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girlygguk · 2 months

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FIRST CLASS | JJK

SUMMARY in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.

𓍯𓂃

PAIRING rich student!jk x (f)rich student!reader

WORDCOUNT 25k+

RATING 18+ MINORS DNI

GENRE smut, fluff, angst. university au, f2l

CONTENT childhood best friends, nepo baby!reader, nepo baby!jk, tae sister!reader, heavy pining, heavy cursing, a bit of crack throughout, (soft?) fuckboy!jk, whipped!jk, simp!jk, kinda emotionally constipated!reader, lack of & miscommunication, the most dramatic fic you’ll ever read, jk has his tats & shorter hair (ref in banner pic), jk is a tits guy and reader has big tiddies, jk & reader are very touchy and lovey friends, reader is kind of a bitch to those she doesn't care about, reader is rich but jk is richer 😩, arguments between mcs, jealousy, bottled up feelings, toxic/unhealthy friendship if u were to really think about it, jk & reader have active sex lives beforehand, reader is in a fwb situation beforehand, there is an explicit scene between reader & a side character (but no sex), punch up/fight scene/blood, potential/near-miss car accident, 2 scenes where characters get badly physically injured, alcohol consumption, use of a few male idol names (mingyu, jaehyun, felix), the rest of bangtan are side characters, the last like 9k(?) is literally just smut helppp, happy ending.

18+ WARNINGS kissing, making out, grinding, dry humping, fingering (f rec.), oral (both rec.), slight exhibition?..you'll see, pet names during sex, dirty talk, use of the word slut in praise, so much praising, biting, jk likes the pain ok, body worship, tiddy sucking, mentions of tiddy fucking, ball play, nipple play, multiple orgasms, bigg dick jk, soft dom!jungkook, subby!reader, unprotected sex, ocs a pro dick riderr 🙂‍↕️, creampie, sweet aftercare

author's note thank you all so much for the love on the teaser! it truly motivated me to finish this quicker than i ever expected. however, proofing such a long piece was a veryyy different experience to what i'm used to, so if u see any inaccuracies or timeline inconsistencies... no u don't <3

first class ; noun /ˌfəːs(t) ˈklɑːs/ a set of people or things grouped together as the best.

The biting cold of the winter evening settles over Yonsei University's lacrosse field, floodlights casting long shadows on the frosted grass. You pull your mink coat tighter around yourself, the chill seeping through despite your layers. Sitting on the bleachers with Park Jimin and his twin sister, Park Minji, you watch the game unfold.

The match is in full swing: Yonsei versus Hanyang, another top South Korean university. The excitement is palpable as the outdoor stadium fills with spectators, creating a sea of blue and green—the colors of the respective teams they are rooting for. Jimin wears a blue puffer jacket in support, while your roommate Minji is swimming in a blue long-sleeve sports jersey that definitely does not belong to her, you think with a smirk.

You initially weren't going to attend tonight due to other plans, which is why you aren't sporting anything blue. But, after a whiny 20-minute call from your insufferable best friend, you canceled on Mingyu last minute and tagged along with the Parks. Not that you would've dressed in all royal blue anyway… you're not fucking crazy. But maybe you would've added a blue ribbon to your hair or something.

Taehyung and Jungkook, co-captains of the Yonsei team, are in their element, dominating the field with effortless skill. You watch as your brother and Jungkook easily clear the opposing team, their movements synchronized and precise.

Jimin nudges you with a gloved hand, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Your brother and Kook are killing it out there," he says, his eyes following the action on the field.

You nod, cheeks flushed from the cold. Giving him a hum in agreement, you glance over at Minji. Her focused gaze keeps drifting back to Number 12, almost subconsciously, before realizing and snapping back to the middle of the field.

You look away in amusement, focusing on the game again and watching as Number 12, Kim Namjoon, swiftly catches the ball flying through the air with his racket before bolting through an opening in Hanyang's layout.

As the game progresses, the Hanyang team rallies, their determination pushing them closer and closer to Yonsei's lead. The crowd tenses as the score tightens, but you remain composed. You've seen this scenario play out countless times before.

There are 20 seconds left in the match, and Yonsei is down by two points. The twins have matching pouts on their lips, beginning to come to terms with your school receiving their first defeat of the season.

You watch as Hanyang makes the pitiful mistake of trying to make a risky pass by Number 1.

In the blink of an eye, Number 1's racket shoots out and intercepts the catch, and with a final burst of speed, Jungkook breaks right through the opposing defense. His eyes lock on the goal, and with a powerful swing, he sends the ball soaring into the net.

The crowd erupts, cheers reverberating across the field as the final buzzer blares, signaling the end of the game. You can't help but smile at Jungkook's skill.

The Yonsei team quickly swarms around Jungkook, their cheers morphing into a sea of bodies that envelop him, eventually toppling him to the ground in a dogpile. As they begin to disperse, Taehyung leans down to his co-captain with a proud grin.

Jungkook takes Taehyung's hand with a chuckle, the elder hoisting him to his feet before draping an arm around his shoulder. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, shaking out his damp curls, which cling stubbornly to his forehead. His eyes then drift towards the bleachers, where he suddenly loses his train of thought.

There you are, in all your glory—wrapped in a long, expensive chocolate mink coat, cheeks flushed pink from the cold air.

Your smooth legs, sheathed in sheer stockings, disappear into boots that likely cost as much as a teenager's first car. He wonders about the color of your skirt hidden beneath your coat—is it brown to match, or black to complement your boots? The color, he isn't certain, but he does know it is either a skirt or a dress. You would never be caught dead in trousers and even avoid jeans if you can. Personally, Jungkook thinks you look spectacular in jeans.

Your hair hangs loose, styled pin-straight but tousled slightly by the breeze, and his fingers itch to tuck the stray strands behind your ear. You are engrossed in conversation with Jimin and Minji as the three of you descend the bleacher seats, now heading towards him and your brother. Your brother, who is now holding his helmet under his right arm, uses his left to tug his best friend out of his trance and towards their friends.

You and the Park siblings weave through the amped-up crowd before finally reaching where the co-captains are peeling off their gloves.

Jimin clasps Taehyung's hand, pulling him into a warm, brotherly hug. "That was a fucking game, Tae!" He exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face before giving the same greeting to Jungkook.

Minji follows suit, hugging Taehyung quickly before turning to Jungkook with a playful smirk. “You had us scared for a second, Kook,” she teases, “thought you weren’t gonna make that last shot.”

Jungkook chuckles, returning Minji's hug before leaning back and chucking his helmet on the ground, waiting for you to finish congratulating your brother.

"All part of the show," he replies to the twin with a wink before you pull away from Tae and float to him like second nature.

Nobody bats an eye as your arms slink around his shoulders, linking behind his neck. His taller frame leans down slightly on instinct, and his arms wrap around your waist. His face buries gently into your neck, pulling you a little closer. Your perfume renders Jungkook dazed, and he knows that he is a sweaty mess and smells like one too, but even if you notice, you don't mention it.

"Hi," he mumbles, his breath tickling your skin, causing you to smile and pull away slightly.

"Hi," you echo sweetly, noticing his eyes flicker down to where your coat has parted and your black Hermès mini-skirt peeks through.

You are about to ask him if he likes it because you just bought it yesterday, but he is quick to draw your coat tighter around you, probably not wanting the cold air to nip at you any longer.

He picks up his helmet and gloves, his tattooed arm slipping comfortably over your shoulder as the five of you head towards the locker rooms.

Your head rests against the side of his chest while you walk, and your friends are still beaming about Yonsei's fourth consecutive win of the season. Jungkook slows his steps slightly, letting the rest of your group pull slightly ahead.

"Glad you came," he says softly, his skin tingling as your nails lightly scratch against his shirt where your hand rests around his waist.

"Yeah, you better be," you hum teasingly, "Mingyu was not happy."

Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat before forcing out a laugh, "Tell him I'll make it up to him. Take him out on a date myself."

Your giggle soothes the ache in his chest before it returns tenfold at your response, "wasn't a date. Was just going to see him."

"Ohhaahah," his attempt at a laugh comes out more strained than he intends, and you snort, amused by his discomfort.

Before he can protest, you interlock his hand with yours and lead him towards the locker room, his steps quickening to match yours. He follows behind you like a puppy dog, as if this was your locker room and you were showing it to him for the first time.

A chaotic mix of celebration and exhaustion echoes throughout the building as you walk through the door that Tae holds open. The smell of sweaty lacrosse players all but hits you in the face, and Jungkook watches in amusement as your nose scrunches slightly. The warm air is welcoming though, and you let out a sigh as it works to defrost your frozen skin.

The changing room is packed to the brim with sweaty college boys high-fiving, recounting the game's highlights, and shedding off their gear. Jungkook lets go of your hand when you and Minji go over to say hi to Namjoon.

Taehyung is caught up in conversation with the coach, who is commending the team's performance and already running through some things they can work on in preparation for next month's match.

"Jaykayyyyyy!!"

"Let's fucking gooo, Jeon!"

"Good shit tonight, JK!"

You release Namjoon from the hug and turn towards the sudden commotion coming from the other side of the locker room.

Your best friend is at the center of the group, his teammates slapping his back and tousling his hair while showering him with praise. You notice his bunny-like teeth peeking out as he grins. No matter how confidently he carries himself throughout the day, he still flushes at compliments, which makes you roll your eyes amusedly.

Jungkook breaks away from the group and heads to his locker to check his phone while you return your attention to Namjoon and Minji, who are now caught in a quiet conversation.

You head over to Jimin, who looks to be passionately explaining something to Hobi and Yoongi, judging by his broad and exaggerated hand movements. He is a drama major though, so you can never be too sure.

A vibrating noise cuts your journey short. You fish your phone from your coat pocket and begrudgingly slip out of the locker room back into the cold air before answering. "Hey, Gyu."

"Hey, Y/N." Mingyu's tone is low and strained, like he’s in pain almost.

You tuck the strands of hair that were getting picked up by the wind behind your ear. "How can I help you?" you ask.

"Y/N," he grunts out a pained laugh, and you click.

You hear shuffling on the other side of the line while he sits up against his headboard.

"Yes? What do you need?" You're not going to do the work for him, and he knew that. He felt pathetic even making the call in the first place.

He goes quiet for a moment, and you pull your phone from your ear to glance at the time. "It's only 8 pm, and you sound like you're already in bed."

Mingyu nods as if you could see him, "I am. I have been for a while," he admits before asking you how the game was. You know he didn't actually give a shit about the game, but you still entertain him and answer

He drags out the conversation for a few minutes, running his hand through his hair at your voice. He doesn't want to hear it through the phone; he wants to hear it in person. He wants you to be in his room right now, like you said you would be.

Mingyu hates how disinterested you sound. Mingyu also hates how that very disinterested tone makes his cock throb in his sweatpants. You couldn't care less about him, whereas all he's been doing since you canceled on him three hours ago is lay in bed and fucking think about you. He sighs before biting the bullet, "Are you still coming over?"

Your brows furrow slightly, "Oh, I thought I told you that I was—"

"Can you still come over?" He rephrases his question, "please?"

Your lips purse as you consider it for a second. You don't have any classes tomorrow, so you guess you could head to his later tonight.

You're about to respond when the sound of the door opening behind you causes you to turn around.

You watch as the wealthiest student in the entire university approaches you, now dressed in a plain black hoodie and a pair of joggers, running a towel through his wet hair. It no longer looks sweaty wet but instead shampooed wet, so you assume he had a quick shower. "Hey, you okay? Why are you out here in the cold?"

"One second," you say into the phone before lowering it and moving closer to Jungkook. He closes your fur coat tightly around you again as it comes open from the strong wind while he waits for your response.

"Came out here to take a call. Too loud in there."

He nods, throwing the towel over his shoulder. "'K. We're going to Hanji's to eat. Did you want to ride with me?"

You're about to agree without even thinking when you remember the boy waiting on the other end of the call.

"Ah," you mutter, lifting the phone back to your ear. "I'll come over at like 11?" you say to Mingyu, not catching the frown that coats Jungkook's lips.

Mingyu almost protests but knows that 11 is better than nothing and stops himself. "Sweet. Just text me if you need me to pick you up."

You thank him before saying your goodbyes and ending the call. You look up at your best friend, his gaze unfocused. "Can I?" you ask.

"Hmm?" he hums, blinking a few times before focusing on your face.

"Ride with you?"

"Yeah," he smiles down at you, letting you link your arm with his as he leads you back into the warm locker room.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Hanji's is loud. The clamor of sizzling grills and busy cooks no match for the chatter of students and customers that fill the room. You sip on an iced tea as your friends laugh and chat, still basking in tonight's victory.

Snug between your brother and Jungkook, you rest your head on the latter's shoulder, sipping your drink through a paper straw. His arm drapes over the back of the booth's chair, allowing you to settle comfortably as he chats with the swim team captain, Jin, who sits on the opposite side of the booth.

Your coat is folded on Jungkook's lap now that you're surrounded by the warm air of the diner, and his tattooed fingers play absentmindedly with the spaghetti strap of your top.

Taehyung leans over and snatches a dumpling from your untouched plate with his chopsticks, causing you to glance at him in faux annoyance. Your brother knows you don't actually care and flashes you a big, toothy grin which you can’t help but return.

You push the plate toward him, wordlessly telling him to have it all and his eyes light up for a split second before his brows furrow. "Why aren't you eating?" he asks concernedly, his words slightly muffled by a mouthful of food.

"Ate just before the game, I'm full," you reply, nodding when he asks if you're sure and watching him grab another dumpling.

Liar. Jungkook thinks as he watches Jin's mouth move but is unfocused on the words he's actually saying.

You don't eat before a link, a habit of yours Jungkook is very aware of, having asked you not to do it countless times before.

It's not that deep, you always tell him; you just don't enjoy sex much with a full stomach, it makes you feel sorta sick. And food always tastes better after sex anyway.

He glances down at you for a second, and you're already looking his way, your pretty eyes boring into his as if daring him to mention anything to your brother. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he turns away, attempting to hide his smile at your attitude.

Jin cracks a joke and glances at you for a reaction, prompting you to roll your eyes and laugh. He pumps his fist in the air triumphantly, earning a playful smack from his girlfriend.

Your friends are always like that—acting as if making you laugh is some monumental achievement. You're not a masochist; you don't avoid laughing on purpose. But you're rich, intelligent, and pretty... It takes a lot to impress you. Jungkook makes you laugh a lot though.

Seated next to Jin is his gorgeous high-school sweetheart, Mia, and next to her is your ever-so pouty housemate, Minji. You quietly observe Minji's gaze as it frequently drifts to the booth adjacent to yours, where Yoongi, his boyfriend Hobi, Jimin, and, most importantly, Namjoon are seated.

Minji sighs softly, snapping out of her daze as she looks down at her cider. Taehyung is laughing at something Jin said, leaning forward in front of you slightly to engage in conversation with the swimmer on the other side of the table. You take this moment to check on your friend.

Your head lifts off Jungkook's shoulder, and he resists the urge to turn and ask why, trying to stay focused on the story his Hyung is telling. You catch Minji's eye, offering her a small, questioning smile. She returns it as best she can before her expression morphs back into a troubled pout, and she shakes her head slightly.

You nod in understanding, tapping Jungkook's thigh as a signal that you'll be right back and ask Taehyung to let you out of the booth. Your brother stands, allowing you to shuffle out, and you grasp Minji's hand, tugging her along to the restroom.

Jungkook glances over, watching you usher Minji away from the table, and from the corner of his eye, he notices Namjoon looking over too.

Fifteen minutes go by, and you're reapplying Minji's mascara, which she cried off during her tearful spiel about her situationship.

"It's like h-he—" she pauses to hiccup, and you move the wand away to let her breathe, "—he just likes to mess with my fucking head! Every time we hook up he's all like 'Minjiiiiyahhh,'" you snicker at her imitation of his voice.

"’I can't get enough of you! I wanna do this forever!' but then when we're with everyone, it's like he's scared to even stand next to me! God, is he like, embarrassed of me or something?" She seethes, shaking her head in frustration.

You lift a tissue to her lash line, dabbing at the fresh tears brewing and scoff. "Embarrassed of you? Don't be ridiculous," you say, capping the mascara and sliding it back into her clutch, giving up on the rescue mission as the tears just keep coming.

"You are gorgeous," you turn your body to lean against the basin with her, linking her arm in yours. "Smart," you continue, resting your head on her shoulder. "Funny... sometimes," you tease, and she lets out a tearful giggle, her trembly hands curling around your arm as she snuggles into you in gratitude.

"God, I'm literally wearing his jersey. How pathetic." She laughs at herself, and your brows furrow slightly.

"How is that pathetic? I'm sure he wanted you to wear it, didn't he?"

"Well yeah... He was actually really cute when he asked if I would. He was all shy and shit. Fuck sakes," she groans in frustration, "it makes everything even more confusing!"

"Maybe he's just shy about showing affection in front of people? I mean, he is literally a computer science major..." You trail off and smile when she whines and wacks the arm of yours that she's leaning on.

"Seriously, though, don't cry over a guy, Min. And especially don't question your worth because of him." The bathroom falls silent except for her soft sniffles at your words.

You hand her the tissue that you're holding before adding, "You need to talk and set things straight with him, or you're just going to continue hurting." You internally scoff at the hypocrisy of your own words, but your roommate is none the wiser, nodding at you in agreement.

After a moment, she speaks quietly, "I wish I could be more like you."

"How so?" you ask, though you already have an inkling.

"You never get attached to the guys you hang with. I wish I could do that. It seems so much more freeing."

You hum half-heartedly in response, watching her dab at her eyes one last time before turning to wash her hands. Her words linger, echoing in your mind longer than they should. No, you don't get attached. Because you already know firsthand just how much it fucking sucks when the feelings aren't mutual.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

It's 11:12 pm. The scent of your Chanel No. 5 lingers in the air, blending with Jungkook's soft hums to his car radio. The warm air from the heater makes your eyes droop slightly.

"You have a nice voice," you murmur, toying with the tattooed fingers resting on your stocking-clad thigh.

He glances at you briefly, a small smile playing on his lips. "You always say that," he replies, eyes returning to the road as he stops at a red light.

"Because it's true," you state simply. "Do you disagree?"

He laughs softly at your bluntness, a familiar flush creeping up his neck. "Maybe."

"Hm," you roll your eyes, lifting one of his fingers and letting it drop before repeating the motion with the others. "Whatever, golden boy."

"Ya," he chuckles, squeezing your thigh gently, "don't call me that."

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "You let everyone else call you that."

His lips purse into a slight pout. "Not you."

You blink at him, the corner of your lips twitching into a smile at his big, boba eyes. He just keeps staring at you, letting you fiddle with his hand. After a few long moments, you giggle at his dazed-out expression. "Light's green, Gukkie."

He snaps out of it instantly, facing back toward the road, and his foot hits the gas pedal a little quicker than intended. That's better, he thinks.

A few minutes later, he turns into the familiar entrance of Yonsei University, steering the car down the path that leads to the Delta Sigma Phi fraternity house. As he pulls into a parking spot in front of the building, you're halfway through sending a text, so he waits for you to finish before cutting off the heater.

You lock your phone and glance up just as he extracts the keys from the ignition. He pats your thigh gently before climbing out of the car. You follow suit, rounding the vehicle to meet him by the driver's side.

Instinctively, he reaches for your hand, fingers entwining, and you rest your head against his arm as you both ascend the front steps to the frat.

The foyer is dark as Jungkook leads you inside. He maneuvers through the hall effortlessly, even without his sight. He guides you up the stairs to the second floor, your hands still locked together, and he turns to face you when you reach the door to his bedroom.

You look up at him with a dumb smile, and he leans down to bury his face in your neck before he says something dumber. His back presses against the door, and as you lean into him, the scent of his clean, linen hoodie fills your senses.

Jungkook's love language is physical touch, and you let him have his moment, keening slightly when he nudges the side of your neck with his pretty nose. YYour phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it, wanting to spend five more minutes with your best friend.

"Do you have class tomorrow?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to be heard by his housemates.

He doesn't say anything, just shakes his head wordlessly, his curls tickling your skin as he does.

"Movie tomorrow then?" you suggest softly, letting him lean back slightly to look at you.

The moment you see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, you know his response before he even forms the words. His pouty lips part, ready to offer an excuse when you squint your eyes and lean away from him.

"Jesus, Jeongguk." You groan, still keeping your voice low, but he can hear the annoyance loud and clear. "Why do you get all pouty and sad when you have other plans? It's okay."

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow. He edges forward, trying to maintain some form of physical contact, but you just shrug him off. "I already agreed to it last night. I'm sorry, Y/N."

You let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes. "Why are you fucking apologizing?" Your words have bite, but he doesn't react, simply leaning closer to you even though you continue to distance yourself.

You know you're overreacting in a sense, but every time he has plans with a girl, he always apologizes with that stupid fucking pout and those stupid fucking puppy dog eyes. And it's only when it's with another girl.

You weren't upset; you were well aware of his active sex life. It's like he expects you to burst into tears whenever he tells you he's seeing someone. Why the fuck would you care?

Jungkook reaches out to you in a last attempt to grab your hand, and you just stare at it, not making any move to accept the gesture. He sighs, letting his hand fall to his side while he looks at your pissed-off expression.

"Why?" You try again.

Jungkook's shoulders slump, and he looks down, avoiding your gaze. "I don't know," he responds softly. He barely catches the annoyance on your face fading, soon replaced with something that tugs at his heart even more—boredom.

"Okay then, Gukkie. Sleep well, we'll talk later," you say, nodding as you step closer to him. Your arms wrap around him in a quick hug, and before he can even react, you're walking down to the other end of the hall.

Jungkook's eyes stay focused on the ground, listening to your footsteps getting further away.

It's not until he hears a soft knock on his frat-mate's bedroom door and a fucked-out, "Shitttt, look at you," come from Mingyu that he scoffs, turning into his room and slamming the door behind him.

Thirty minutes pass, then an hour, then two, as Jungkook lies grumpily on his bed, glaring at his bedroom ceiling.

There was an unmistakable bang of a headboard against the wall down the hall at minute forty-five, followed quickly by your hushed voice telling Mingyu to keep it down. Jungkook hasn't been able to close his eyes since.

"Why are you fucking apologizing?"

Your words ring in his head as he tosses under his blanket uncomfortably, giving up before ripping it off his body a bit too aggressively, causing it to fall to the ground.

"I don't know."

Dirty fucking liar, his subconscious snickers.

Of course he knew. He's always fucking known. It's subconscious; the way he can't stop the apology from spewing from his lips every time.

He wants you to be upset. He wants you to get angry at him for sleeping with other girls. He wants you to ask him not to go.

But you don't. You never do. If anything, you encourage it. And there he is, apologizing like a fucking idiot for something that you don't even care about. Every time he sees that disinterested look in your eyes, it feels like a sour punch to the gut.

Jungkook's mind races as he tries to figure out why he keeps doing this to himself. Why he keeps hoping for a reaction that never comes. He thinks about the way you hugged him earlier, the fleeting moment of closeness before you walked away without a second thought. You're so good at that.

He rolls onto his side, trying for the nth time to close his eyes, the sounds of your muffled laughter and Mingyu's low murmurs mocking him through the thin walls.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, the frustration gnawing at him, a constant reminder of what he can't have. He wants to move on, to stop letting you have this power over him. He laughs at the thought.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Two days later, you're sitting in your afternoon Linguistics class, sandwiched between Jimin and Aerum. Why Jimin didn’t take the spot in the middle if he was going to let her sit near you guys, you’re un-fucking-sure.

Aerum isn't part of your inner circle, but she likes hanging around. You know her type—fake and a gossip. She attempts to make small talk with you throughout the class, but your answers are curt and disinterested.

"—even surprised? As if Jeongguk hasn't slept his way through half the campus already." Aerum giggles, twirling a strand of her hair. That gets your attention.

You don't even look up from your notebook, continuing to jot down what the professor says. "Don't talk about him like that," you say, your tone flat, causing Aerum to falter for a second.

She nervously chuckles, "It's not a secret he gets around, Y/N. You know that..."

Unamused, you finish off your notes, letting her brew for a second, before finally lifting your gaze. You lean in a little, and Aerum shuffles closer as if you were about to let her in on some juicy tea.

"I don't care if he took your mother over the kitchen counter and made you watch." Aerum's lips part at your words, leaning back slightly in shock. "Don't talk about him like that. Matter of fact, don't talk about him at all."

She malfunctions for a second before nodding dazedly, quickly turning to face the front of the class for the first time today. You return to your notebook uninterestedly as Jimin lets out a loud snort, leaning over to hide his face in your shoulder.

The class continues without further interruptions, and when the professor finally wraps it up, you begin putting your things away. Jimin holds your bag for you like he always does as you make your way out of the classroom. Aerum follows behind like a kicked puppy.

With no more classes for the day, you and Jimin had planned to go to the campus café for a study date. Much to your dismay, Jimin had invited Aerum when she overheard you talking about it at the beginning of Linguistics. Jimin is kind to everyone, a trait of his that you somewhat admire, but in this case, it just made you want to slam his laptop shut over his fingers.

Once you reach the café, you find an empty table at the back while Jimin goes to the counter to order your usual drinks, Aerum trailing behind him quietly.

As you set your things down, you notice your phone at the top of your bag. You pick it up, deciding to text Jungkook because you haven't seen him in a couple of days, and you miss him. Maybe he can come study.

It's as if the universe heard your thoughts because suddenly, you feel a pair of sturdy arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. You smile when his familiar cologne reaches your nose and quickly spin around to pull him down into a proper hug.

"I was literally just about to text you," you tell him as he snuggles into your neck.

"You studying?" he murmurs into your skin, his warm breath tickling you slightly.

"Mhm, with Jiminie and Aerum," you reply, leaning back slightly. He scrunches his nose in protest when you pull away but lets you go.

"Cool, I could use a break," he says, his eyes twinkling as he takes a seat next to you, casually slinging his arm over the back of your chair.

"Where were you heading?" you ask as you both settle down, and he helps you spread out your supplies.

"Just dropping some gear off to coach on campus. Saw you through the window," his gaze flickers over your outfit before he smiles softly. "You look pretty."

You smile cutely at the compliment, and his heart skips a beat.

Jungkook suppresses a sigh. You look so sweet in your white cashmere sweater and creamy plaid Burberry skirt, but the way your body fills it out is anything but. Not a single hair out of place, you look sinfully and irrevocably perfect.

Jimin returns with the drinks and almost gets a fright from the lacrosse captain. "Hey, Kook," he says with a grin, handing you your iced coffee.

Aerum, holding her drink, looks slightly flustered but tries to mask it with a smile. "Hi, Jungkook," she says, her voice a little too sweet.

Jungkook nods at her politely before turning his attention back to you. "What subject?" He leans over to grab your textbook, and before you can answer, Aerum takes a seat and chimes in.

"Linguistics," she smiles, and Jungkook nods while flipping through the textbook.

You're logging into Jimin's laptop while he licks the whipped cream from the top of his frappe like a cat. You snort at the blonde before opening the shared doc that he and you have. You're begin to scroll through the pages, trying to find where you left off last time, but the sound of Aerum's continuous pestering distracts you.

"—again tonight or something?" You only catch the end of her sentence, but by the flirty tone she's only just now using, you assume she's speaking to Jungkook.

"Aish, Aerum…" Jungkook laughs awkwardly, flicking through the pages of your textbook as if it would somehow teleport him away from the situation.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you don't do round 2's. Make an exception? For me?" She pouts cutely, and even Jimin can't resist the urge to cringe into his cup.

Jungkook looks over at you for a moment; whether it's for help or a reaction, he doesn't know, but he's not surprised when you don't even look up from the laptop. Just continuing to scroll through your document.

He can't even stop the words from coming out before he says them, "Yeah, okay."

Jimin's brows furrow in surprise. You keep scrolling.

"Yeah?" Aerum can't hide the surprise in her own voice, giddy nonetheless.

"Yeah." He nods at her, looking down at your textbook, wishing it would telepathically lift up and knock him out cold.

An hour flies by, during which you and Jimin make significant progress on the paper, having already completed a quarter of it.

Aerum, however, proves to be an absolute dead weight, giving weak half-assed responses whenever Jimin tries to involve her in the research. Her focus is solely on flirting with Jungkook.

If she even thinks of attempting to slip her greasy little name on this project once you and Jimin are done, you'll take great satisfaction in bringing her back down to reality.

You finish typing a sentence on Jimin's laptop before locking it and giving him a look. He understands immediately and stands up to pack his things wordlessly.

You're beyond irritated—not because Jungkook and Aerum are practically on the verge of fucking right on top of the café table, but because they're doing it while you're trying to work. Frustrated and disgusted, you uncharacteristically bite your tongue and sling your bag over your shoulder.

"You're leaving?" Jungkook's head snaps to you the moment he notices you standing up, and he follows suit, Aerum tagging along behind him.

"Yep," you nod, grabbing Jimin's arm when he extends it to you and heading for the café exit.

"Are you—shit," Jungkook stutters, jogging slightly to catch up to you, Aerum trailing behind him. "Are you guys doing anything tonight?"

You almost roll your fucking eyes, but Jimin responds with a neutral expression, "Yeah, Kook… the DSP gather? We planned it last week?"

"Fuck," Jungkook coughs out, "Yeah, no, I remember."

You continue walking back towards the main campus where Jimin's car is parked, with Jungkook and Aerum not far behind. When you reach Jimin's Audi, you detach from his arm and head for the passenger seat, Jungkook meeting you at the door.

"Did you still want me to pick you up?" he asks softly, watching you adjust your bag strap over your shoulder in boredom while you wait for Jimin to unlock the car.

“No, that’s okay, Guk. I'll come over with Minji. She's on a drinking cleanse after the Feb blackout, so she can drive," you smile, leaning up to give him a quick goodbye hug.

He leans into it, but you don't let him linger, pulling away as soon as you hear the sound of the car unlocking. You go to open the door and climb in, but he gently puts his hand against it to stop you.

"Are you okay? Can you talk to me, please?" he lowers his voice so no one can hear.

Jimin takes the hint and awkwardly gets into the car, telling Aerum to hop in the back and he'll drop her home. She looks at Jungkook for a long moment before reluctantly getting in.

Jungkook's big, worried, boba eyes make you want to both scoff and run your hand over his face until they ease up.

"What do you mean, Gukkie? Just don't want you to go out of your way. You live there, so there's no point in you driving to get me."

Huh? He's picked you up for every single frat party they hold. He doesn't mind. He insists on driving you. He loves driving you! What the fuck?

Jungkook lets his hand fall from the door in resignation, and his heart clenches at the speed in which you pull the handle to open it, like you couldn't wait to get away from him. He somberly takes a step back from the car to let you get in.

You sigh when you glance back at his scrunched eyebrows and pouty lips. You place your bag on the seat and shut the door with a groan before walking back to your sulky best friend.

His response is immediate. His arms link around your waist when you lean into him, his head nestling into your neck where it belongs. Your nails lightly scratch against his polo, and he squeezes you a little tighter.

"I want to pick you up," he says softly. You run your hands down his arms, grabbing them where they link behind your waist. You give them a squeeze as you gently untangle yourself from him.

"I'm riding with Minji. I'll see you tonight, Gukkie." He watches you walk back to Jimin's car and finally get in.

Aerum's eyes are on Jungkook as Jimin pulls out of the campus parking lot. Jungkook's are on you.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

You weren't always as unbothered as you are today at the age of 21.

Maybe it was maturing, maybe it was the pilates sessions you take twice a week, or maybe it was because a particular situation made you vow to yourself you'd never go through that pain again. Well, whatever it was that made you so emotionally detached, you're grateful for it. You're young, gorgeous, and you have a fruitful and prosperous life on the horizon.

Fun is good. Feelings are not.

You shake your head to get yourself out of your thoughts—the thoughts you don't know why are suddenly floating around in your messy little brain—and yell out to your roommate for a favor.

Park Minji and you share a two-bedroom penthouse on the top floor of Kim Marriott, the Seodaemun-gu branch of your parents' luxury 5-star hotel chain.

Taehyung was supposed to move in with you during your first year, but when he was appointed Frat President, he chose to stay on-site at Delta Sigma Phi. What a humble boy… you couldn't think of anything worse.

He dragged Jungkook along with him, and you dragged Minji along with you, so everything worked out great. Minji is a lot tidier than your brother, anyway.

You're rummaging through your closet for the shoes you swore you had stored there after your last shopping trip when Minji waltzes into your room, holding the box you've been hunting for.

"These ones, right? They were on the kitchen counter, among all your other unopened packages..." She rolls her eyes teasingly.

"Oh yes! Fuck, I love you," you cry, walking up to the blonde and pulling the heels from the box she holds open for you.

"They're so pretty," she compliments before closing the box and tossing it in the living room to throw away later. She looks back at you as you head to your full-length mirror, slipping on the shoes.

"Jesus, Y/N." Minji groans, and you hum in question, eyeing her through the mirror.

"You look so good, what the fuck..." she whines, walking closer to you and standing side by side in the mirror to check on her outfit as well.

The white bodycon mini-dress hugs your body nicely, its low neckline no match for your bigger-than-average tits as the fabric clings to them for dear life. The white-gold Cartier necklace Jungkook gifted you rests prettily on your chest, just like it always has ever since the night he clasped it around your neck.

2 years prior—circa. your 19th birthday

"Get fucked, Jeongguk." The words rip from your throat, venomous and sharp as they slap your best friend's face into a furrowed, exasperated expression.

You yank the jacket tighter around your shoulders as the cold night air whips at your skin, storming down the sidewalk. The urge to rip the jacket—his jacket—off your body is strong, but it's so fucking cold. You may be petty and possibly overreacting a little right now... but you're not stupid.

Jungkook's heavy footsteps trail after you, his calls of your name only pushing you to walk faster. He catches up in no time, your hurried steps no match for his long strides. He tries to gently grab your arm, but you shrug off his touch angrily, spinning around to glare at him. You're about to tell him to fuck off again when he speaks first.

"Come back inside. It's like a fucking blizzard out here; you're going to freeze to death," he says evenly, though frustration laces his words.

"Oh, please," you laugh humorlessly, shaking your head in disbelief. "As if you give a shit if I freeze."

"Don't fucking say—"

"I'm going home. You can tell everyone I'm sick and had to leave. Or don't, I don't fucking care." You turn away and start walking again, his footsteps immediately following.

"You're walking home?" You ignore his question, causing him to huff and run a hand through his hair. "Let me drive you home, please."

You ignore him again, knowing that if there's something Jungkook can't stand more than you yelling at him, it's you not speaking to him.

"Stop doing this. It's your birthday; don't let it end like this—"

"Yes, Jeongguk, it's my birthday," you seethe, whipping back around. "And you brought a random chick none of us even know to my birthday dinner. And you didn't even bother to get me a gift. On. My fucking. Birthday."

"Y/N—"

"Limited edition PlayStation, imported Swedish lacrosse stick, custom painted iPad from your favorite local fucking artist," you list the gifts you've gotten him for his birthday over the years angrily. Jungkook shakes his head, trying to step closer to you, but you hold up your hand to keep the distance.

"Do you even know how much effort I put into the things I get and do for you? And for you to sit there with that... that stupid fucking look on your—God, Jeongguk!" Your voice is on the cusp of being a whine, but you don't care. "Oh, but I'm sure you spent a decent chunk of Daddy's money on Winnie tonight, huh?" You don't care that the Daddy's money statement is also very applicable to you… you're pissed.

Jungkook's jaw clenches at your words, and he steps forward, slipping his hand into the pocket of the jacket you're wearing. Before you can snap at him again, he pulls out a small velvet box and holds it out to you.

"What is that?" you demand, your voice still trembling with annoyance.

"Your gift," he says softly, opening the box to reveal a white-gold Cartier diamond necklace. "I was planning to give it to you when we were in private."

You stare at the necklace, your anger momentarily overshadowed by surprise. The diamonds of the pendant sparkle under the streetlights, and you almost let out a moan. Diamonds are your weakness.

"You motherfucker," you groan under your breath, glaring at the necklace in hopes it will dissipate into thin air so you can continue being annoyed at him.

Jungkook steps closer, his voice a whisper. "Everyone was coming with their partners, Y/N. I couldn't come alone."

You sigh, knowing that. Your comment was a cheap shot, considering Jungkook doesn't hang with a girl more than once, so it would be impossible for him to bring someone you already knew. But Winnie was getting on your last nerve, and you saw an opportunity to sneak in a jab, so you took it.

Not only was his date clearing glass after glass of the expensive wine your friends had ordered as if it were water, but she was also not shy about ordering the priciest dishes on the menu. Judging by her tiny red Zara mini-dress, you highly doubt she'll be reaching for her purse at the end of the night.

Your gaze is still locked on the necklace as you take a moment to think. Jungkook hasn't moved either, continuing to hold the box open for you while he scans your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

"It's, um, engraved and shit," he mumbles, his hand not holding the box lifting to run over his jaw nervously. "And I got a chain one… for me too."

Your eyes snap to his, and he swears his heart stops beating. God, you think it's stupid. You hate it. That's okay. He'll just wait until you turn around so he can sprint to the nearest homeless guy and give him the stupid neckl—

"Like matching?" Your eyes soften, and he slowly feels the blood flooding into his heart.

"Yeah, only if you like, want to," he shrugs cutely, and you can't stop the grin from spreading across your lips.

You're close enough to slide your arms around his torso but still not near enough for Jungkook as he tugs you closer, melting into the hug. "Thank you, Gukkie. I love it," you murmur into his chest, and he feels his muscles relax at you finally using his nickname again.

You lift your head from his black fitted Givenchy dress shirt, which smells a little too good, to look up at him. "But why did you say you didn't have anything when everyone gave me their gifts?"

He looks down at the slight pout on your lips, his fingers twitching with the urge to wipe it off your mouth. Instead, he flicks the box closed with a thumb and holds it out to you. "Don't think Jaehyun would've been too thrilled with me giving you this," he chuckles. "The dude hates me."

You frown up at him, about to chime in and say that isn't true, but his lips tug into a smirk as if to say he couldn't care less about what your boyfriend thought of him. And honestly, if he were Jaehyun, he'd hate him too.

Jungkook had the necklaces made a little over two months ago, and you and Jaehyun have only been official for one. So, Jungkook's intentions behind the gift weren't malicious, he swears…

If you just so happen to wear the necklace and your boyfriend notices his matching one, which then causes a rift in your relationship, resulting in the two of you breaking up… well, that would just be a nice little coincidence.

"Jae knows you and I are close," you explain with a crease in your brow that he wants to massage until it goes away. "I made it very clear to him when he wanted to get serious, and he understood."

Jungkook nods along to your words even if he doesn't fully believe them. Either Jaehyun is a really good and secure guy, or he's full of grade-A horse shit. If you were his and another dude tried to come along and buy you an eleven-thousand-dollar necklace? Fuck, he'd knock the guy out cold.

You untangle yourself from your best friend and lift the lid of the velvet box still in his grasp. You coo at the pretty diamonds before turning to face away from Jungkook.

You gather your hair before swiping it over your shoulder and letting his jacket fall slightly to bare your neck. Jungkook reacts immediately, picking up the necklace before shoving the box in his pocket. His cold fingers brush against you as he carefully fastens the jewelry around your neck.

When he pulls away, you let your hair fall back into place and turn around to face him again. Your smile is soft, eyes twinkling as you look down at the necklace. "It's so pretty, Gukkie. I love it."

You're so pretty. I love you, he thinks.

With a sigh, you glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in one of the most casual party outfits you've worn in a while—well, to your standards, at least. For some reason, you just don't feel entirely up for it tonight. Something feels off in your stomach. Or your head. You're not sure. You're probably just getting sick or something.

After slipping into the heels, you stand up straight and smush a kiss on the girl's cheek, smiling at the mark your lip gloss leaves on her face. "Ya, I just did my makeup," she gasps, leaning closer to your mirror to dab off the glossy residue.

You pat her bum gently. "You look gorgeous, Min. Gonna have Joon in tears tonight."

"If he even looks at me," she rolls her eyes, adjusting the strap of her Miu Miu dress in the mirror.

"You haven't talked to him yet?" You ask as you apply your perfume, and she turns to look at you with guilty eyes.

"No," she sighs, "I will tonight."

"Good," you smile, resting the perfume bottle back on your dresser before grabbing your phone and holding your hand out to her.

She interlocks her fingers with yours as you both leave the suite, the sinking feeling in your stomach never fading.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

Welp, there goes your ride home.

You watch in amusement as your roommate throws back her fourth jello shot of the night, washing it down with a gulp of beer.

You don't blame Minji for breaking her sobriety, especially after the first thing you both saw upon walking through the doors of Delta Sigma Phi was Namjoon leaning against the foyer wall with another girl in his arms. While they weren't official official, Minji loves really hard. And you think Namjoon knew that.

Needless to say, Minji instantly grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the kitchen, where mountains of various alcohol bottles covered the counter.

Minji's not an alcoholic by any means, but she, just like her twin brother, are quick to take it down and even quicker to bring it back up.

A few months ago, during the Autumn fraternity vs. sorority fundraiser, she got so drunk that she blacked out going down the soapy slip-and-slide.

You and Jungkook—well, mostly Jungkook—carried her all the way to his car. Since he was a sober monitor for Delta Sigma Phi, he drove you both home. He ended up staying at your place for the rest of the night while you slowly sipped on strawberry soju and watched Netflix, checking on Minji every so often.

She hasn't had a drink since that night, so her tolerance is probably super low. But that doesn't stop her from handing you a raspberry jello shot before grabbing another from the table and sucking it down like someone might take it from her.

You giggle, gently wiping away the pink droplet of liquid trailing down the corner of her lip with your thumb. She offers you a dazed smile, her eyes hooded, the effects of the alcohol clearly weaving through her system.

"You okay, Min?"

She beams back at you, a little spark lighting up her glossy eyes, "Mhm. Just wanna have fun tonight."

"Okay," you respond softly, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

Her head suddenly snaps to the living room. "Oooh, they're playing spin the bottle! Let's go playyy!" Minji gasps, tapping your arm excitedly.

You glance at the game that caught her attention and scan the players. There are a few of your friends, mixed with other people from school whose names you couldn't remember if someone held a gun to your head.

You pat Minji's hand, which was still tapping your arm, telling her to go play and stay close to Yoongi and Hobi. She nods, rushing over to the game with a big smile and plopping down between your friends.

You look down at the jello shot you're still yet to ingest and put it back on the table. Grabbing a solo cup, you pour some cranberry juice into it, glancing at the types of vodkas on display. Your nose scrunches at the cheap brands, your manicured nail tapping the side of the cup in thought before you remember something.

Cup in hand, you make your way to the cupboard below the kitchen sink and pull it open, smiling in triumph as you spot the object of your desire at the back of the cabinet. Bending down, you reach for the bottle quickly before anyone notices you.

"That's off limits."

The familiar smell of his cologne floods your senses before you process his words. You straighten up with a small smile, resting your cup on the counter and turning to face the boy with the pricey bottle of vodka in your hands.

"Even to me?" Your lips pull into a knowing pout, and Jungkook has to force his gaze away from them. Instead, his eyes trail over your outfit, which, in hindsight, was an even dumber idea.

His breath hitches in his fucking throat at the sight of your dress, doing nothing to support your boobs that threaten to spill from the pretty little white fabric. The knot in the noose, though, is the necklace he gifted you on your nineteenth birthday, resting innocently between the valley of your anything-but-innocent tits.

He shakes his head, the corner of his lips tugging upwards slightly as he steps closer to you. You fiddle with the bottle cap while he closes the distance, giving you a moment to drink in how effortlessly his arms fill out his white box-tee.

"No," he says softly, almost laughing at the thought of ever denying you something. "Not you." He takes his bottle of Belvedere from your grasp and unscrews the cap.

You rest against the kitchen sink as your best friend, now less than an inch from your body, reaches around you to grab your cup from the counter. He doesn't say anything as he pours the vodka into the cup, using his familiarity with your favorite drink to know when to stop. Your finger lightly traces over the tattoos spilling from his right sleeve absentmindedly, and he should tell you to stop, or he might drop the cup. But he doesn't.

Once he deems there's enough alcohol in the mix, he lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip. You wait patiently, letting him do his little lip purse before splashing a bit more vodka into the cup and holding it out to you. You take it with a grateful smile, bringing the drink to your lips to taste it as he leans over to get a solo cup of his own. You almost groan when the vodka cranberry hits your tongue. Obviously, it's perfect. He’s annoying like that.

Once Jungkook finishes mixing his drink, he takes a mouthful before returning to you. He catches the way your gaze is fixed on the ground, distraction clouding your eyes, cup resting against your lips as you get lost in your head.

You snap out of it almost instantly when he gets closer to you, putting the cup down next to you so you can slink your arms around his neck when he leans down. But before he allows the feeling of you against his body to make him forget every thought inside his brain, he speaks.

"What's wrong?" he murmurs into the skin of your neck, blindly putting his cup on the counter behind you so he can slip his hands around your waist.

You're quiet for a moment, and if it wasn't for the slight stutter in your fingers playing with the clasp of his Cartier chain, he would think you didn't hear him. He doesn't repeat his question, though, knowing you will answer him in your own time. And even if you don't, that's okay too. But he just won't leave your side the entire night if you're feeling vulnerable.

Yeah, nice excuse for not wanting to leave her alone; his subconscious laughs viciously at him. Jungkook ignores it by burying his face into your neck further.

Your fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck while you take a deep breath, the calming scent of him grounding you. "I don't know," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tightens his hold on you, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. "Are you getting sick?"

"Yeah, probably. I've just had this weird feel—"

"Kookie, there you are! I thought you got lost getting my drink—oh, hi, Y/N!"

Jungkook stiffens before he lifts himself from you slightly at the sound of Aerum's voice.

You untangle your hand from his hair, poking your head around the side of his large frame to look at the girl strutting into the kitchen. She's pretty, you think as you give her outfit a once-over. If only she wasn't such an insufferable phony, maybe you'd be a little warmer towards her. Maybe.

"Hey, Aerum," you greet uninterestedly, leaning away from Jungkook and ignoring the way he tries to keep you near him.

Lost in his own house? You internally roll your eyes. Why even bother saying something so stupid—

"Is it this one?" she smiles once she reaches you both, grabbing your cup from the counter and taking a sip. "Oh wow, Kookie, it's so good! Is it vodka? Shit, what brand is this?" Aerum squeaks as she takes another sip of your drink.

Jungkook's lips part as he's about to say something about the drink, but you reply with a bored expression, "Belvedere."

Aerum lets out a confused hum as you name the $300 bottle of alcohol. "Huh. I've never heard of it."

You nod, grabbing a bottle of cheap beer as you brush past her to leave the kitchen. "Exactly."

Jungkook and Aerum's hushed conversation fades into the background as you move further away. You reach the living room, where Minji is giggling between Hobi and Yoongi. She grins widely when she sees you enter the room. "Jagi! Come and play!"

You laugh at your roommate, who now has two more empty Jello shot cups and a bottle of cider beside her, which explains the affectionate nickname.

Once you reach the circle, Yoongi and Hobi lean up to give you a hug in greeting before you smush a kiss on Minji's forehead. "Maybe later, jagi. Have you seen our brothers?”

“Mhm! They went outside for a smoke!” She replies distractedly as she’s staring intently at the bottle spinning in the middle of the circle.

You run a hand gently over her hair before turning to Yoongi. Since he’s sober D for his boyfriend tonight, you ask if he can keep an eye on her while they finish their game and if she needs to go home or gets too much to handle, to come and tell you.

Yoongi nods at you with a smile, and you return it before spotting a familiar head of black hair peeking over the back of the couch on the other side of the room.

Approaching the couch quietly, you softly put your beer on the ground before leaning over and covering his eyes with your hands. Mingyu flinches at the unexpected contact, his phone falling from his hands to his lap, but then relaxes as if something clicks.

His warm hands come up to yours, removing them from his eyes before he turns to you with a stunned smile. He takes you in for a second before shaking his head and leaning up on the couch.

You're about to give him a hug but he suddenly wraps his arms around your body, easily pulling you over the couch and laying you down beneath him. You squeal loudly in surprise before it's replaced by soft giggles as Mingyu attacks your neck with kisses, peppering them over every inch of skin he can find.

You draw a breath when there's a slight break in his assault and gesture to your heels digging uncomfortably into the couch. He leans back immediately and pulls them off your feet, placing them on the coffee table with haste that makes you laugh.

Turning back, he lowers his frame to you, your legs subconsciously separating to let him press closer, and he resumes his work on your neck. His kisses move lower, and you let out a sigh at the feeling before he reaches the exposed skin of side-boob peeking from your dress. You let out a quick gasp, grabbing his face with your hands and pulling him up to your face.

He grins at you cheekily, knowing he wouldn't get far but can't find it in himself to regret the action. "Was wondering when you'd get here," he says softly, his voice filled with affection. Your pouty fucking lips covered in that pretty fucking lip gloss distracts him for a moment, and he breathes a dazed sigh, leaning down to rest his face on your chest.

You blame it on the alcohol when the sick feeling in your stomach suddenly returns at the touch of Mingyu's skin on yours.

You blame it on the alcohol when all you can think about as you run your fingers through Mingyu's hair is how it's not as soft as Jungkook's.

You blame it on the alcohol when you let Mingyu snuggle closer into your neck in hopes that you'll feel the same warm sensation as when Jungkook does it.

The nausea, the thoughts of your best friend while you have a gorgeous man on top of you, the pounding in your head as his lips get closer and closer to your necklace. You blame all of it on the alcohol.

The one single sip of fucking alcohol you've consumed tonight.

"Can you pass me my beer, please?" You choke out as his lips are a millimeter away from reaching the skin where your necklace sits.

Mingyu pulls back with a smile, and you almost want to frown at the sweet boy. He deserves so much better. "It's just on the ground over there," you point to the back of the couch, and he nods, leaning over and grabbing your drink.

You release a heavy breath while you play with the hem of his dress shirt when something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric.

There, leaning with his back against the living room wall, is your best friend with Aerum's lips attached to his neck like a blowfish. Jungkook's brows are furrowed, most likely in pleasure, and his eyes are squeezed shut.

Another wave of the sick feeling washes over you, and you almost let out a frustrated grunt. What the actual fuck is going on with you?

Mingyu leans back on the couch, now with your beer in his hand. Before he can open the cap for you, you snatch it from his hand and toss it to the carpet carelessly. He looks at you curiously, about to ask you what's wrong, but you sit up and swing your leg over his thigh, effectively lodging the words in his throat.

His brows shoot up in surprise before he catches on, his hands finding your waist when you don't waste time pressing your lips to his. Mingyu groans into your mouth when you suckle on his tongue lightly, starting to move against him. Your dress begins to ride up with your movements and deepen the kiss while simultaneously grinding harder into his lap. You can feel him getting harder through the fabric of his jeans, and you zone in on it.

Squeezing your eyes closed tighter to focus, you drag yourself over his covered cock, letting the zipper of his pants graze against your panties. Mingyu detaches from your lips at the sensation, his head throwing back onto the couch as his breathing picks up.

Your hands rest against his chest as you swivel your hips quicker, trying everything you can to spark something in you. Mingyu chokes out a strained fuck when you find the outline of his shaft and let the lips of your covered pussy drag along it.

Nothing. You feel nothing. What the fucking fuck.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is losing himself. His head is still thrown back in pleasure, and you take the opportunity to lean forward and latch your lips to his neck. Your teeth nibble at the skin below his jaw, and he shivers at the action, his hands losing grip on your waist and falling to the swell of your ass. Your movements still haven't relented, grinding against him like you're the only two in the room, and Mingyu doesn't want to admit just how fucking close he is.

He's about to suggest that you guys take it to his room when he feels one of your hands trail down from his chest. His head lifts up to see what you're going to do next, and god, he wishes he didn't, because when you cover the hand of his that's loosely resting on your left asscheek and squeeze? He almost cums in his fucking pants like a teenage boy that just discovered the wonders of third base.

Mingyu does as you wish, grabbing a greedy handful of the flesh with his left hand and uses his right to slide up the back of your neck, returning your mouth to his. You fall into the kiss willingly, letting him lick into your mouth. Letting him take whatever he wants. Mingyu has always been a good kisser. Not even a week ago, he had you dripping from a 10-minute make-out session on his bed. But right now, something inside you tells you that even if you went at it for an hour, it still wouldn't be enough.

You push the sadistic thoughts from your brain and tangle your hands in his hair, nodding against his lips when his hand on your neck drops to your other asscheek and squeezes tightly.

Yes, you think. Touch me. Anywhere. Everywhere. Something is bound to—

"What the fuck?"

Your lips immediately detach from Mingyu's at the sound of the familiar voice booming behind you. You adjust the front of your clothes, which have twisted out of place, and quickly climb off Mingyu's lap. Pulling down the hem of the dress that also rode up a few minutes ago, you blink guiltily at the man staring at you with a disturbed look.

"On my couch? That's disgusting. Take it upstairs or take it to your place, Y/N." Taehyung grits, shaking his head as if it would somehow rid the image of you mounting his frat-mate from his memory.

"Sorry, Tae," you reply to your brother with a purse of your lips before getting over it and looking around for your phone that fell from the pocket of your cover-up.

Mingyu is speechless, gawking at his frat president in horror, not knowing what to say or do. He watches as you finally find the phone wedged between the couch cushions before you lean back onto his chest and scroll through your notifications, un-fucking-concerned.

Mingyu chokes on air, gently lifting you off him and sitting you back up on the seat properly. You give him a confused look, and he returns your gaze with a panicked expression, glancing between you and your brother, who is still standing there glaring at him.

You roll your eyes, lifting Mingyu's arm and throwing it over your shoulder, returning to your previous position. "Don't take him seriously, Gyu. I can't even recall how many times I've accidentally walked in on him and my own friends from high school. And they were doing a lot more than dry humping."

The fact that you aren't bothered helps Mingyu to calm down a bit, but he's still on edge with your brother staring him down.

You glance up at Mingyu when his chest remains stiff beneath your head, and you sigh before turning to your brother. "Tae, you're scaring him. We won't do anything else on your couch, okay? Now shoo, please." You wave him off with your hand.

Your brother just rolls his eyes, looking a little too much like you for your liking, before he nods and says he'll return to patrol the room in 30 minutes.

You watch Taehyung disappear behind the door frame as he heads into another room, and you turn to Mingyu with a teasing grin. "30 minutes? We could be done twice in that time…"

His eyes widen, and he gives another pathetic attempt at suggesting you go upstairs, but when you press your lips to his, the words fizzle out on his tongue as you entwine it with your own.

Jungkook is fucking fuming.

He's absolutely clocked out of the make-out session with Aerum, and she can probably tell that his mind is elsewhere, but he can't bring himself to care, and she makes no move to pull away either.

He feels her getting angsty, desperately wanting to escalate the situation from the way she's pressing harder against him, but Jungkook keeps the pace steady.

He needs to stay in the living room to keep an eye on you because you're obviously not in the right state of mind right now. You're not drunk; he knows what you look like when you've been drinking, and you're basically stone-cold fucking sober. But yet, there you are, one layer away from riding his housemate's cock on his very own fucking couch.

Jungkook would have intervened a long time ago, had he not seen with his own eyes that you were the one initiating every part of the act.

With every swivel of your hips, Jungkook’s heart pounded furiously against his chest. It clenched with every firm squeeze Mingyu placed on your ass, and it shattered completely as you nuzzled into Mingyu’s neck, kissing and nipping at it, just like you did to him in his dreams most nights.

He can’t tear his gaze away. He’s tried—oh, how he’s fucking tried.

He attempted to focus on the pretty girl currently whimpering into his mouth, begging him to touch her, to take her right there in the middle of the room if he so desired. But he couldn’t. His eyes were uncontrollably drawn back to you, to the way Mingyu’s hips lifted to meet yours, each movement a sharp twist to the knife lodged in his pathetic heart.

"Shit," Mingyu groans when the curve of his cock straining against his jeans meets your covered core. "We needa go upstairs, or I'm gonna take you right here on the couch, Y/N."

Your laugh comes out breathy from the frantic movements of your hips as you ignore him, and you lean up so his face can nuzzle between your tits. Your boobs are very sensitive, and that usually does the trick to turn you on.

Why. Isn't. It. Turning. You. On.

You let out a frustrated groan that Mingyu mistakes as a moan of pleasure as he leaves wet kisses against the exposed skin of your tits before he reaches the necklace that's wedged between them. "Fuck, I love this. It's so pretty but looks so dirty on you."

Your skin suddenly fires up at his words, and you feel your hips stutter slightly. "Yeah?" you question in a rush, grinding harder against him to chase the feeling.

"Mhm," he nods, brushing his nose over the pendant.

"Bite it."

He looks up at you, his gaze locking with yours filled with a hunger that hadn't been present all night.

"Bite it?" he repeats, his voice a mix of confusion and intrigue, hips meeting yours halfway as your movements become sloppier, more desperate.

Your head tilts as you nod desperately, "Please bite it."

Mingyu's eyes flicker down to your chest, and he leans in, his lips grazing the skin near your necklace. Your breath catches as he nears the pendant with its two little conjoined rings. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, suppressing the whine that threatens to escape.

He plants a lingering kiss on the surrounding flesh before finally catching the pendant between his teeth. You can't hold back the loud moan that escapes your lips—

It happens in the blink of an eye.

You tumble onto the couch cushions as Mingyu is abruptly yanked away and thrown to the living room floor.

You watch in shock as Jungkook pounces on him instantly, Mingyu barely having a moment to react before Jungkook's fist comes crashing down. It connects with Mingyu's jaw with a sickening crunch that reverberates through the room, drawing the attention of a few partygoers.

Mingyu attempts a recovery, throwing a jab that snaps Jungkook's head to the side, but Jungkook quickly regains his focus. He reels his fist back and hammers another brutal punch into Mingyu's face, then another, then another, then another.

Jungkook doesn't know how many punches he's thrown, or how long he's been on top of his housemate, or whose arms grab him from behind to pull him off Mingyu.

His breathing comes in ragged gasps, his knuckles sting with a throbbing pain, and a fierce rage burns through his veins, consuming him entirely. Adrenaline surges through him as he watches Yoongi and Hobi lift a bloodied, struggling Mingyu off the ground.

"What the fuck, Kook?" Taehyung's voice snaps him out of his daze as he and Jimin drag him to his feet.

You remain frozen on the couch, not shifting an inch. Your gaze is fixed on Mingyu as a cluster of people surround him. One person carefully presses a damp rag against his bloodied face while he leans heavily against the wall, another extends a bottle of water towards his shaking hands.

From the grasp of your brother, Jungkook's eyes follow you as you rise and weave through the crowd around Mingyu.

His heart clenches as he watches the pained expression on your face, the saddest he's ever seen. He watches as you whisper something to Mingyu, who shakes his head weakly and reaches out to pull you closer. Instead, you gently grasp his hand, stroking his knuckles with your thumb as tears start to pool in your eyes.

He sees the moment you utter one final word to Mingyu before you let his hand drop softly to his side and walk away

You return to the coffee table, grabbing your shoes and phone before immediately heading for the exit. You spot Minji, who has tears flowing down her cheeks, and she breaks from Yoongi's hold before pulling you into the tightest hug she can muster.

"Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay? What the fuck was that?!" she cries into your shoulder. You almost smile, knowing her emotions always spill over when she's been drinking, but you couldn't muster one even if you tried. Gently pulling away, you dab at the tears under her eyes before turning your attention to Yoongi.

"Can you take her home, please? I'm going to catch an Uber and I feel like being alone for a bit," you half-lie. You're going to walk home, but he doesn't need to know that. He wouldn't let you walk alone at this time.

"Y/N," Yoongi sighs. He didn't miss the way you dodged her question. He wants to urge you to let him drive you home as well, but the resolve in your eyes tells him you won't budge. "Yeah, I'll make sure she gets home safe."

"Thank you," your voice cracks slightly at the end as you squeeze his hand and leave the room before he can stop you.

You can hear footsteps trailing behind you as you reach the door, and you abandon the mission of slipping into your heels, quickly slipping out the door and slamming it behind you.

The cold concrete bites at your bare feet as you hurry down the steps of the frat house, but you barely notice. The sound of the door swinging open behind you only quickens your pace.

"Please, Y/N. Wait. Please."

The tears you've held back since the moment he climbed on top of Mingyu suddenly fall without your permission, and you scoff, wiping them away furiously.

You don't say anything as you reach the path out of the university and continue your trek to your penthouse. It's dark, the sparse lights of the school providing little guidance, but you don't care. You just keep walking.

When Jungkook catches up to you and tries to take your hand, something inside you explodes. You snatch your arm away furiously, your heels and phone dropping from your hands as you turn to face him. Before you know what you're doing, you push against his chest, shoving him away from you. He barely moves and that makes you even angrier. “Fuck you, Jeongguk!” You shove him again, "Fuck you," again, "Fuck you," again, "Fuck you."

Your voice trembles on the last words, and you can't stop the sob from wracking your body. He reacts instantly, stepping forward to pull you into his arms as you break down.

His hands cradle the back of your head as you shake against his chest, his heart clenching at the sound of your cries. "I'm so sorr—"

You pull away from him, running your sleeve over your face to wipe at the tears. "What about your future, Jeongguk? What if he presses charges? If this gets back to your parents? Affects your student record?" You shake your head in utter disbelief, your hands running through your hair in an attempt to ground yourself. "Mingyu is such a good guy, how could you even—fuck." Mingyu.

Your heart clenches at the memory of him trying to keep you close even after he had the shit beaten out of him. You brought him into this mess. That was all fucking you.

"You can't do shit like that, Jeongguk! You c-can't," you stammer, batting his hand away as your voice cracks again, "You had no right to do that."

"I know, Y/N!" His voice rises, and you see tears welling in his own eyes. "I fucking know! I know I didn't have any right to do that. And I fucking hate it!"

You're speechless, but Jungkook isn't finished, "I had no right to punch Lee Seo-jun when he gave you your first kiss, so I didn't. I had no right to punch Kang Doyun when you told me he felt you up for the first time, so I didn't. I had no right to punch Jeong Jaehyun every time I watched him have you like I wanted to have you, so I fucking didn't!"

Tears stream down your face unchecked as Jungkook's hands gently cup your face, his thumbs trembling as they try to wipe your tears away. "I had no right to punch Mingyu because he has everything I want. But I did. And I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't fucking regret—"

"I hate you."

Jungkook doesn't know what to do when he hears you say those words. He stumbles back slightly, his throat tightening, and his heart slams against his chest so hard he thinks it's about to crack through his skin.

A trembly shake of his head, "No—"

Your tears stop as abruptly as they came, your gaze hollow and resigned. "We need some space. This is unhealth—"

"No, please," the tips of his ears turn red as he chokes back a sob, "I fucked up, baby, I know. I'm gonna fix it. Let me fix it. I don't want space, I-I can't have space," his words tumble out desperately, completely unaware of the nickname that slips out. But it doesn't matter; nothing does, if you leave him.

You pull your face from his grasp and take a small step backward. The weak light posts give you just enough vision to see his bloodshot eyes and broken expression. Your hand twitches, yearning to brush his hair away from his face and wipe his tears—the tears he's crying for you.

Don’t be fucking stupid, your subconscious snarls.

Those tears aren't for you. They're for the idea of you.

If he doesn't have you, who's he going to cuddle up to at night when he's bored and doesn't have a pussy appointment to get to?

Who will pass on his Instagram handle to their classmates when they rave about his insane dick game and want to try it for themselves?

Who will drag him to mandatory family gatherings, knowing his dad would slash his trust fund for missing yet another one?

Not Kim Bora, his first kiss, a week before your own with Lee Seo-jun.

Not Park Soojin, the first girl he felt up under the shirt, three days before you let Kang Doyun do the same to you.

Not Cho Eunji, the only girl he ever took on a second date, the night that you made things official with Jeong Jaehyun.

You spent countless nights crying over a boy who saw you merely as a friend. The little sister that tagged along to playdates because her brother wasn’t allowed to have fun without her. The spoiled daughter of his father’s closest friend, who he was obligated to protect at school because she never hesitated to voice her blunt opinions, especially to those she thought sucked.

The same girl who saved the most sacred part of herself for her best friend. The girl who, without hesitation, turned down every single guy who promised they'd cherish such a precious gift. The girl who prayed to a God she didn't even believe in, hoping Jungkook would realize that the person who loved and cared for him most was right before his eyes all along.

All for that very boy to carelessly give his innocence to some random chick at a high school party, not even bothering to call her the next day.

That was the moment your perception of love shifted. That was the moment you stopped looking for what his words and touches could mean, and started seeing them for what they were. Friendly. Insincere. Meaningless.

You thought the day Jungkook confessed his feelings would be the happiest of your life. You imagined it would erase all the pain, all the tears, as if they were nothing more than a pathetic nightmare.

But you don't feel happy. You feel angry. Angry that the words you've longed to hear don't make you want to fall into his arms and never leave. Instead, they make you want to run and never come back.

So you do exactly that.

You ignore your phone and shoes lying on the pavement. You ignore your best friend's croaky shout of your name. You ignore that the stony road leading away from the University grounds only grows darker and darker the further you go. You ignore the sharp ache in your feet from the rocks beneath your bare soles. And you run.

You run faster than you ever have in your entire life. You run until your legs burn, unused to anything but your two weekly low-impact fucking pilate sessions. You run until Jungkook's yelling fades into the distance behind you.

You run until you can almost see the lights of the main street. You run until you hear his footsteps gaining on you, the stupid lacrosse captain clearing the distance twice as fast as you ever could. You run until the thumping of your heart drowns out the pain of the sticks and rubble digging into your feet.

You run until the light gets brighter. You run until the light gets closer. You run until you realize they aren't streetlights. You run until you realize it's the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. You run until you can't stop yourself quickly enough. You run until you hear the scream of your best friend behind you. You run until you don't feel the impact of the hit. You run until the world around you fades to black.

Your head hits the pavement hard, bouncing slightly.

Jungkook's arms are around you in an instant, cradling you close as he sobs, "No, no, no, baby, please."

The driver of the car, a college kid who looks just as shaken, gets out to check on you, his face pale and stricken.

"Go to the frat house and get Taehyung. Now." Jungkook barks at the boy, though his eyes never leave your face.

The kid nods frantically, dashing back towards campus, stumbling in his haste. Jungkook pays him no attention, his tears falling onto your face as he holds you tighter.

"Hold on, baby. It's okay. It's okay," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over his sobs. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay."

You lay limp in his embrace, your breathing shallow. His tears mix with the dirt and blood on your face as he presses his forehead against yours, his entire body shaking with sobs. He holds you tighter, rocking back and forth as he brushes the hair away from your face.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he sat there in the dark, the cold night air wrapping around you both. What was realistically no more than two minutes felt like two hours. The distant sounds of the campus were muffled, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. Jungkook's tears didn't stop, his heart breaking more and more with each passing second of your silence.

"Ow, fuck." You groan weakly.

Jungkook's grip tightens as he lifts his head. "Y/N," he chokes softly, his hand supporting your head as you try to sit up. "D-Don't try to move too much. We're gonna—we're gonna get you to the hospital, okay?"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with confusion and pain. "Did I really just get hit by a fucking car?"

He shook his head with a teary laugh, his fingers gently caressing your hair. "No," he sniffled. "I managed to tackle you b-before... But you hit your head when we fell. I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, your hand resting on his head when he rested it on your chest, and you couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry."

His breathing stops, and he looks at you with the most saddened expression you've ever seen. "W-why the fuck would you say that? Don't apologize. None of this is your fault," Jungkook shook his head, his tears falling anew.

"I'm sorry for saying I hate you," you said softly, your hand resting on the side of his neck as he trembled. "If anything’s going to teach me of all people a lesson, it’s a near-death experience...” You let out a pained laugh, “Would hate if that was the last thing I ever said to you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. "Y/N, you don't know how much I l—"

The sound of frantic footsteps interrupts him. Taehyung's voice calls out in panic, and within moments, he’s kneeling beside you, his face a mix of fear and relief.

"Oh fuck, Y/N," he said, his voice shaking as he quickly assesses your condition. "C'mon, we need to get you to a hospital," he says through teary eyes.

With Jungkook's help, you managed to get to your feet, leaning heavily on him for support. Taehyung saw you struggling to keep your balance and quickly scooped you into his arms, jogging over to his car he left running. He gently placed you in the backseat, and Jungkook was on the other side in an instant, getting you comfortable while your brother rushed to the driver's seat.

As you drove to the hospital, Jungkook didn’t let go of your hand.

Not as he forced you to drink from the water bottle Taehyung passed back to you. Not as he leaned your head on his chest, gently inspecting your scalp for any severe cuts or bleeding. Not as you grunted at him when he jiggled you slightly every time you closed your eyes for a second too long, worried that you were losing consciousness.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

"You've got a mild concussion," Dr. Choi said with a reassuring smile, her voice calm and professional. "You were fortunate. Your head hit the ground hard, but thankfully, there are no signs of severe trauma or bleeding."

Beside you, Jungkook's grip on your hand tightened. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his gaze fixed anxiously on the doctor. "So, she's going to be okay?"

In the cushioned armchair next to your hospital bed, your brother shifted slightly in his sleep. You reached over to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, careful not to wake him.

Lately, his roles as frat president, lacrosse captain, and his involvement in the family business had worn him thin. The exhaustion had overwhelmed him, and he had fallen asleep almost as soon as he settled into the chair. This really is the last thing he needs to be doing, and so with a final look of guilt, you let your brother rest and turned back to Dr. Choi.

Dr. Choi responded to Jungkook with a nod. "Yes, she'll be fine," she assured him. "Concussions can cause symptoms like dizziness, headache, nausea, and fatigue. She might feel drowsy and out of sorts for a few days, but with rest and avoiding any strenuous activities, she should recover fully within a week."

You blinked, your head still throbbing but feeling a bit more relieved. "So, I can go home?"

"Yes," the doctor confirmed, writing some notes on your chart. "I'm going to release you shortly. Make sure you rest, avoid any physical exertion, and stay hydrated. If you experience any worsening symptoms—like severe headache, vomiting, or confusion—come back immediately, okay?"

Jungkook gave the doctor a firm nod. "We will."

Dr. Choi smiled at him, a soft expression on her face. "Good. And make sure she avoids screens for a bit—no phones, no computers, no TV. Just rest."

You groan while Jungkook just signals his understanding.

As the doctor turned to leave the room and finalize your discharge papers, she glanced back with a knowing smile. "And maybe a break from the drama for a little while too?"

Jungkook's head hung low as he continued to gently caress the back of your hand with his thumb.

"No more boys and no more running into traffic, got it. Thanks, doc." You nodded at the middle-aged woman, who gave you one last amused look before leaving the room.

That was six days ago.

The throbbing ache and, more importantly, the big ugly bump that was once on your forehead have now almost completely faded. If it hadn't, and you were stuck with a permanent scar on your face, you would've hunted down the kid who nearly hit you with his car and told him to finish the job.

Speaking of that kid, he tried to reach out to you quite a few times since you've been absent from classes. He couldn't get in direct contact with you since Jungkook had confiscated all of your devices, but he was persistent. He bugged almost every person he knew to be a close friend of yours until finally, on the second to last day of your 'quarantine', being the chronic people-pleaser that he is, Jimin cracked and brought him to your penthouse.

You were lounging on the sofa, your head resting in Jungkook’s lap as he read aloud to you, when Jimin ushered him in. You felt Jungkook stiffen instantly, and it took your sitting up and pressing down on his thigh to keep him from lunging at the poor boy.

His name is Lee Yongbok, an exchange student from Australia. He's a freshman, 19 years old, and his Korean dialect is fucking adorable.

Yongbok’s eyes were brimming with tears when he saw you, apologies tumbling from his lips for what felt like an eternity before you gently cut him off.

You first asked him if he was crying at your appearance and he just shook his head with a wobbly lip and said he’s just really happy to see you. Thank god. You were worried there was another bump somewhere that Jungkook hadn’t told you about.

You told him it was okay, that it wasn't his fault. That you were the crazy lady who ran in front of his car. That he did nothing wrong.

He dropped to his knees at your kindness, something nobody had ever done before. In fact, "kind" was probably the last word anyone would ever use to describe you.

He offered to pay for any medical bills, any necessities, anything you might need or couldn't afford. You giggled at the thought.

You thanked him for coming to see you. You told him not to lose any sleep over it, that you're okay and he's okay. You gave him your number and told him that when your grouchy caregiver returns your phone, you'd send him a text.

When he was about to depart, he asked if he could give you a hug. You nodded, telling him to come closer because Jungkook's hand was not letting go of your waist.

Yongbok happily pulled you and Jungkook into a joint hug since he refused to move. Jungkook reluctantly participated, giving the kid a pat on the back while he snuggled you both and you couldn't stop the loud laugh that escaped your lips.

Yongbok thanked you one last time before he left with Jimin and Minji, telling you to please let him know if you think of anything you may need. What a sweet boy.

Aside from making amends with Yongbok, and your close friends visiting your penthouse throughout the week to bring your schoolwork and random gifts, you haven’t had much interaction with the outside world.

You haven’t seen Mingyu since that night.

In person, at least. You've been texting frequently and even FaceTimed a few times. His eye was healing well, for which you’re very grateful.

The night Jungkook brought you home after the hospital, you found several missed calls from Mingyu on your phone that Yoongi delivered when he saw it on the ground outside whilst taking Minji home.

Your device ban hadn’t started yet, so you called him back immediately and spent over two hours talking and crying. You apologized for everything you had dragged him into, and he insisted you had nothing to be sorry for.

Mingyu truly is the kindest and most gentle soul, and you’ll always regret hurting him the way you did.

During that conversation, he told you he loved you.

Even though it took a messed-up situation to realize it, you knew you had love for Mingyu too. He had always been there for you whenever you needed someone, whether the nights you spent together were fueled by lust and sexual frustration or not, they were meaningful and amazing. He made it so easy to love him, even if your feelings couldn’t match the depth of his.

Mingyu had undoubtedly gotten the short end of the stick in your relationship, always giving more than he received. In your newfound friendship, you are determined to make it up to him. And you will.

Jungkook, too, had been deeply affected by the night’s events. After you finished up with Mingyu, Jungkook took your phone when you handed it to him and disappeared for an hour.

As far as you know, Jungkook apologized and they talked it out. Neither of them like going into much detail with you about it, which is a little frustrating, but you respect their privacy and don’t push further.

Jungkook did come back into your room with red puffy eyes though, and you softly teased him about crying before you snuggled up together and watched a movie.

Jungkook had taken a week off classes to look after you. You rolled your eyes when he first told you, not taking him seriously. But when you woke up the next day, cuddled against his chest while he scrolled through his TikTok feed, you started to believe him.

And when you tried to lean up and see what he was watching, only for him to immediately turn the device away, adhering to the doctor's orders of no screens, you realized just how serious he was.

Over the past six days, you've fallen into a stupid little domestic routine. Now, as you're almost fully recovered and preparing to return to classes tomorrow, a grey cloud looms over you both. The topic you haven't dared to address since that night is getting closer, heavier. You can both feel it.

That's why, as Jungkook slowly packs his clothes into his overnight bag in preparation for tomorrow and you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your nails, the room is enveloped in a heavy silence.

You knew it was a bad idea to let him stay. To ignore everything that should've been sorted the first morning after the incident. But instead you chose to live in blissful ignorance for six days while you play fucking house.

But come on. Having Jungkook dote on you and care for you for an entire week? Please, that's every female student at Yonsei's wet dream. Quite a few guys, too.

You look up from your nails as he zips up his bag, kicking it to the corner of the room before resting the clothes he'll wear tomorrow on your dresser. He looks over at you, walking to the edge of the bed. For the first time in all the years you’ve consciously known him, he hesitates to touch you.

You blink at him, not moving, not saying anything.

Finally, Jungkook breaks the silence, his voice quiet and raspy, "Should we talk?"

You swallowed, nodding slightly. "Okay."

He sits down beside you, close but not touching. "I meant it, you know. Everything I said."

You hesitate, your gaze fixed down on your painted toes. "And what did you say?"

You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up. He brushes some hair—that's growing out nicely as you put it—behind his ear before taking a deep breath. He can't fuck this up.

"I've been in love with you since I learned what love was."

The room goes silent. Neither of you dare to even breathe.

"Wha-huh?"

"I've been in love with you ever since I learned what love was," You repeat.

You finally look at him, and he can't decipher the expression on your face. His eyes flicker between yours, searching for any sign that this is a prank, that Minji is about to burst in with a camera and tell him he's on live television.

"Maybe even before that," you continue, "but I just didn't know what it meant."

Jungkook’s heart races, each beat erratic and intense. He feels like he's about to pass the fuck out.

"No," he croaks.

You blink, "No?"

"No," he shakes his head, "you can't. Y-you can't be. That's not—you're n—what—what the fuck?"

You watch, silent, as he struggles with your revelation, the weight of your words clearly unsettling him.

Oh, you think. You've freaked him out by dropping the L word.

Well, you definitely misread the room there.

It’s not like you haven’t said "I love you" before. You tell each other that often enough—when he drops you off somewhere, at the end of your phone calls, when you give each other random gifts that remind you of the other.

But "I'm in love with you"? Yeah, that one’s a bit new…

Your stomach tightens, but you stay quiet, watching as his hand moves desperately through his hair, as if he doesn’t know what to do.

After a few minutes, he stops and turns to you. He didn't plan for it to go this way. He doesn't know what to fucking do.

You sigh, “I know this changes shit. Ruins everything. I thought I had it under control, but I really don't. And I'm not strong enough to keep pretending. So, if you're okay with still being in each other's lives, we need to set some clear boundari—"

"I fucking love you, Y/N." He kneels in front of you, taking one of your hands into both of his larger ones. "I've been obsessed with you since your mom brought you over to my house when we were five, and you told me my eyes looked like boba pearls."

You look into his eyes as he says that. They really do remind you of tapioca pearls…

"I can't remember a single day of my entire life where I haven't been in love with you. There is no me without you. You are all I can see when I think of my past and all I can see when I think of my future. No matter what you are to me, you're there. In every plan I make. In every dream I have. It's you. It's always been you."

You bite the inside of your bottom lip, fighting back tears. You’ve cried more in the last week than you have in your entire adult life.

"We are so fucking stupid." You sniffle, tipping your head back slightly to try and blink the tear up into your duct.

"We are," he agrees, gently tilting your head down and running his thumb under your lash line to catch the tear.

Once your face is dry, Jungkook's thumb travels down and brushes lightly over your bottom lip. He smiles when it feels exactly as he had imagined, another item mentally ticked off his bucket list.

You're about to ask if he's high when he suddenly springs into action, tackling you back onto the bed. You bounce slightly against the mattress as he holds himself up, careful not to squash you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck as you try, and fail, to suppress a smile at the idiot above you.

"It fucking sucked seeing you with other guys," he confesses, the words he’s been holding back for years finally breaking free.

Your fingers dance across his back, tracing idle patterns on the fabric of his shirt as you respond, “It fucking sucked seeing you with other girls.”

He pulls back slightly to look at you, a pout on his lips. "You should've told me, and I would've—"

“You should've told me!” you interject, giving him a playful smack on the chest. His frown deepens for a moment before breaking into a wide, uncontrollable grin.

He buries his head back into your neck, and you can feel him smiling against you. "You're such a loser," you giggle as you feel his teeth on your neck, not in a sexy biting way but because he's literally fucking grinning against you.

Time slips by quietly as your fingers sketch invisible designs across his back. Eventually, he breaks the comfortable silence. “Do you think we knew?” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin.

“Hmm?” you hum, your hand pausing in its motion to thread through his hair.

He shivers slightly under your touch before elaborating, “Do you think we knew that we were in love with each other?”

Your movements resume, alternating between letting his hair slip through your fingers and gentle scalp scratches. “Yeah, I think so."

He nestles closer, the sensation of your nails against his scalp coaxing a suppressed groan from him. "Why do you think we didn't say anything?"

"I don't know," you reply honestly. "Maybe we were too comfortable. Or maybe we were scared of what it would actually mean."

Jungkook lifts his gaze to meet yours, searching your eyes for answers. “What does it mean?” he asks quietly.

You smile, continuing to play with his hair. “You have a lot of questions,” you tease gently.

His nose scrunches at your evasive reply, and you run your finger down the bridge of it. "Such a pretty nose," you hum.

His eyes flutter shut at the touch, then snap open again. “You’re distracting me.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards. "Am I?"

He nods, making no move to stop the traces of your digit along his face. When your finger brushes the edge of his lip, he turns his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of your finger, his actions drawing a gentle smile from you.

"You don't—do you not want to," he starts, hesitating mid-sentence before pushing himself to continue, “be with me?”

You bite your lip thoughtfully, finishing your gentle explorations of his face, your hand settling back onto his back. “I want to be with you more than anything else in the world, Gukkie.”

He lets out a breath of relief at your words, but his face falls slightly when he senses your hesitation. "But?"

"But," you say softly, "I'm scared. I'd rather have you in my life as my best friend than not have you at all if things don't work out."

He shakes his head, his hand cupping your face gently. “I told you. No matter what you are to me, I want you in my life. Isn’t that the same for you?”

"Of course it is, but you can't guarantee we'll feel this way in—"

“You’re such a beautiful,” he interrupts, planting a soft kiss on your jaw, “intelligent,” another on your neck, “incredible,” he continues down to your collarbone, “pessimist.” He finishes with a kiss just above your heart.

He gazes up at you with a mischievous grin as you narrow your eyes at him. "I will always want you in my life, no matter what shit ends up happening. Even if you tell me you hate me, or you like, fuck my dad or something…" He looks at you seriously, and you roll your eyes, unable to stifle your snicker.

"Well, your dad is kind of a DILF—"

“I’ll never willingly leave your life. And I’ll never do anything to make you want me to leave. And I promise you, on everything that is holy,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to a tender spot below your ear, “I’ll want you in mine for the rest of my fucking days.”

“You better,” you tease, his smile pressing into your skin before you grow serious, “because I can’t lose you.”

Jungkook’s sigh warms your skin, his nose nudging your head back as he murmurs, “You really don’t understand just how obsessed I am with you, do you, baby?”

His gaze lingers on your exposed throat, tracing every swallow, every breath. Unable to resist, he leans in, his lips finding the base of your throat, humming in contentment at the little noise you make.

Slowly, he makes his way to the side of your supple neck, his lips never detaching from your skin on his journey. You feel his breath as he hovers over the area for a second in pausing, and you wonder if it's because he can hear your heart slamming against your ribcage.

No strenuous activities.

His lips finally latch onto the skin of your neck and you feel the tiniest flick of his tongue as he suckles at the flesh.

Avoid physical exertion.

You let out the softest, breathiest fucking moan he's ever heard, and he pulls off your neck with a wet pop. His bunny teeth poke out to nibble at the now moist skin as he slowly moves to your collarbone.

Make sure you rest.

His kisses get lower, hotter, wetter, until finally, his face hovers over your thin little sleep shirt that he's considered throwing down the garbage disposal since you put it on. Bra, nowhere in sight, your hardened nipples taunt him through the pathetic excuse of a t-shirt. He glances up at you with eyes darkened with desire.

Fuck it, you've had enough rest.

You slide your hands up the back of his neck and dra him down to you, your lips meeting his with urgency. You swallow the surprised groan that escapes him, his arms framing your face as he looms over you.

Jungkook feels the tension in his muscles melt away as he surrenders to you. When you part your lips slightly, inviting him closer, he doesn't hesitate.

Your body ignites when his tongue slips into your mouth, lapping against yours and exploring as if it had always belonged there. As your back arches towards him instinctively, he slips large hand behind it, pressing you flush against him.

The countless times he's imagined this exact scenario could easily label him a certified stalker, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. He was absolutely fucked.

You're lost in the sensation, the warm air of your bedroom enveloping you blissfully. Nothing but the sounds of your mouths moving against each other's, tongues melting into one. Jungkook swallows the breathy whimper that escapes your lips with pride, his hips shifting forward at the fact that he's the one drawing such a noise from you. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down, urging him to erase any space left between you.

"Fuck, Y/N," he chokes out, parting from your lips to suck in a deep breath as he feels the warmth between your thighs through his sweatpants.

"I know," you nod dumbly, mind foggy as you grind your hips into his desperately.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "It's never fucking felt like this," he confesses, each word punctuated with a thrust that draws a deeper moan from your lips.

"I know," you whine in agreement, your left arm linking around the back of his neck as you meet his movements, your entire body responding to his every move.

It hasn't felt like this. Ever. You've thought that you've had some pretty good sex in your life, but this is… different. All you’ve done is kiss and grind a little, and yet you can feel those tingles in your fucking toes that people always sing about.

It would be easy to say that it's because it's been eight long days since your last orgasm, but you know that's not the case. It's because it's him.

You've never wanted a cock in you so badly. Especially not after just three measly minutes of dry humping. But god, you're so turned on right now you're pretty sure if he pulled your panties to the side, it would spray at him like a fucking fire hydrant. As you said, it's been eight days; you're a little feral right now…

You feel him stiffening through his sweats, your back arching a little more as you shift and wiggle to try and usher his covered cock through the folds of your covered pussy.

Jungkook's hips stutter when he feels you trying to line him up, and his head jerks up to look at you. He drinks in your blissed-out features; lip between your teeth, head tilted slightly, eyes closed. So pretty.

Your eyes flutter open at the long pause in his movements, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

Cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen, eyes hooded.

You almost let a giggle slip when you see the similarities between his horny face and his drunk face.

"Do you want to take a nap?"

You blink at him.

"I'm sorry?"

The pink tinge that coats his cheeks creeps down his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt. "I just thought—"

"What?" you ask, maaaybe a little offended, "you don't wanna fuck me?"

His brows furrow as he sits up, his heels resting under his butt as he stares at you like you've just kicked a puppy before his very eyes. "First of all, I want to fuck you. I've wanted to fuck you since you made me pop my first boner at your dumb little pool party—"

"Jeongguk," you cringe, "we were like twe—"

"I've never wanted to fuck someone more than I. want. to. fuck. you." You almost laugh at the serious expression on his face but bite it back when you notice the undertone of worry in his gaze.

"I just want it to be perfect," he sighs, his tattooed hand lifting to brush through his hair, one of his nervous tics. "There's so much I want to do... and I want it all to be, like, perfect... god, Y/N, I'm being such a little bitch—"

"No," you cut him off simply, "you're being really fucking hot."

He looks at you with a slight pout as you shoot him a small smile before sitting up and mirroring his position. Your bare knees touch his that are covered by the gray Celine sweatpants you bought him last Christmas as a stocking stuffer. You're a good deal shorter than him, so your head is tilted up slightly, blinking at him slowly through your lashes.

You watch his gaze soften and you internally smirk. There we go.

You've waited far too long for the man sitting in front of you on your queen-sized bed—staring at you with more lust than you know what to do with—to prolong this any longer.

You can have your perfect night when you're not a week into an unplanned celibacy course, and your clit doesn't feel like it's going to shrivel up and snap off if left unattended any longer.

"If you want to wait, we'll wait." You shrug as you look from his left eye to his right, then down to his swollen lips. "But I haven't touched myself in eight days... And it hurts, Gukkie."

Your head hits the pillow as his mouth is back on yours in an instant. You moan in satisfaction, your lips parting eagerly to let him in further. Your legs wrap back around his waist happily, and your foot trails down to rub soft patterns against his hamstring while his tongue plays with yours.

"This is just a practice run," he grunts as he separates from you, kissing his way down your chest before he gets to the valley of your breasts.

"Yeah, yeah, grace period, whatever you want, baby, just keep going," you blurt in a huff, eyes closed in anticipation as his mouth is about to finally do some damage.

You almost scream when he stops.

You snap your eyes open and look down at the son of a bitch breathing hot air onto your already hot skin while he just smiles at you.

"Say that again."

"Say wha—"

"Baby. You called me baby, say it again."

You stare at him for a moment, your idea to tease him diminishing with the last of your patience.

"Baby," you add a shy pout to really sell it and fiddle with the hem of your shirt, "can you suck on them for a little?"

You watch as Jungkook's smile fades and his eyes unfocus, like he just transported into a different state. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he nods once, almost to himself, before he takes the bottom of your shirt that's ridden up to your belly button and lifts it to rest under your chin. Your tits bounce slightly as they spill from the fabric, and he lets out a soft "fuck" before diving in.

His hot mouth latches to your left nipple, groaning when he feels the bud pebble against his tongue. His lips pucker around the nub, sucking it into his mouth desperately, and he lets out a loud moan. This is it. This is heaven, he thinks.

Your legs shakily unlatch from around his waist, and you rest your feet on the mattress, your knees bent and pressing against his sides while he makes out with your tits.

His teeth graze gently over your nipple before he gives it a little nibble, which causes your back to arch. Doing so forces more of your boob into his mouth and he lets out a low muffled groan through a mouthful of your flesh.

"Mmmf've wanted these in my mouth for a long fucking time..." He slurs when he pulls back. His big hands cup your big tits, his gaze concentrated and focused as he jiggles and plays with them, like he can't believe what he's seeing.

"Do you wanna fuck them?"

Jungkook lets out a loud groan at your filthy words, spoken with such an innocent tone his cock is almost confused as it swells like a fucking water balloon in his pants.

His left hand continues to rub soothingly at one of your tender nipples while the other slips down between you. He looks up at the blurry need in your eyes, and his traveling hand almost misses the waistband of his sweats.

"I always knew you were dirty," he breathes out, the words muffled as he plants soft, wet kisses on each of your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. With a strained groan, he frees his painfully hard erection from the confines of his briefs. "But fuck, baby, this is gonna kill me."

God, the way he says baby. Straight to the fucking core.

You tap his bum with your foot and a pretty smile, sitting up on the bed when he lifts his frame to let you slide out. His angry red cock is flush against his stomach, only the top few inches visible from the briefs that rose back up to cover him.

He lets you usher him to sit at the edge of your bed, his feet digging into your fluffy rug as he tries to ground himself while you settle. Your shirt is still being held up on its own because your tits won't let it fucking fall and Jungkook shakes his head in awe at the sight. Fucking unbelievable.

The moment you kneel on the ground, the tops of your feet flat against the carpet as you lean up slightly, your eyes fixate on his throbbing cock like it's a priceless painting. Jungkook loses his mind.

Your eyes slowly lift to his when you hear his heaved, choky breathing. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you fight the urge to smile. "You're so pretty, Gukkie."

"You're prettier, baby," he replies without missing a beat, one hand supporting his weight on the bed while the other gently caresses your face.

A radiant smile spreads across your lips as you turn your face to place a fleeting kiss on his palm. His lips tug upwards at the action before the air is suddenly ripped from his lungs.

Leaning forward, you pull his briefs fully down, unsheathing his entire shaft. You tug the boxers and sweatpants so they rest under his balls, cooing at the way the elastic slightly pushes up his length, making it even angrier as a dribble of liquid gathers at the tip. You lift his shirt absentmindedly to get it out of the way, and he understands, lifting a hand to the back of the neckline and pulling it off his torso.

You barely have a chance to appreciate his tight abs, tiny waist, sinful ink that coats his skin, or the sparkling Cartier chain that dangles from his neck, a mirror of your own.

Your head tilts as you admire the prettiest dick you've ever had in front of you, each vein and ridge perfectly imperfect, complementing each other in a way that would look strange if a single one were to go missing. "Needa..." you hum, entranced, "get it wet first."

"Fuckkkkk," Jungkook moans as you lean down and lick a fat strip from the base of his balls all the way up his shaft, sucking the tip into your mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed on their own, the feeling of his heavy cock weighing your tongue down, making you drowsy and floaty. The scent of your body wash wafts from his skin, igniting a possessive fire in your gut you didn't even know you had as you suckle at the head. The moment he twitches against your tongue, any thought of titty-fucking flies right out your penthouse window. You're not letting him out of your mouth.

"Ohhh-hhh," he stammers as your tongue focuses on the ridge of his tip, lapping at his frenulum like it's your favorite blueberry flavored lollipop.

His hand, which had dropped back to the bed when you took him in your mouth, lifts to run through your hair, brushing it out of your face when it threatens to get in the way of your masterwork. Your eyes blink open in thanks, looking up at him dazedly, and when you catch his own, he throws his head back with a groan.

"Fuck!" He curses as you hum around his shaft, letting your lips part slightly so saliva can drip from your mouth and trail down his cock. His head snaps up to watch as you keep pushing more spit until you deem there enough before your right-hand lifts to clasp around the member.

Jungkook's eyes roll back, the grunts falling from his lips not even registering in his brain as they spew. "Fuck, baby," he huffs out. You wiggle your fingers until you have a good hold on his cock before giving it a few lazy squeezes to get the blood pumping.

"Fucking fuck!" He's absolutely done for, his entire vocabulary vanishing from his mind as you play with his dick like a joystick. Your tongue gives a final flick to lap up the precum spilling from his glan before you inhale deeply through your nose and start to feed the shaft down your throat.

The walls of your throat contract slightly as his thick girth tests your boundaries, but you push through the resistance and force it further until your lips reach your hand gripping the base of his cock.

"Oh my fucking god," Jungkook almost falls backward, but the hand that's not holding your hair out of the way steadies his balance, shaking as it works to keep him upright.

His hips jerk unconsciously when you move your hand from the base, resting it gently against his balls as you inhale through your nose again and finish him off. "Baby! B-fuck!" Jungkook would like to say that it was a manly groan, but it was a pure and outright whine.

His vocality goes straight to your cunt, your clit aching and throbbing against your underwear, screaming at you to let it breathe. You resist the urge to trail a hand down and relieve the pain, instead using it to cup Jungkook's full ballsack and roll it between your fingers. His whines get louder at that, and you almost smile around his cock.

You wait until you feel the familiar sensation of the cockhead tickling the back of your throat, the automatic gag rising through your entire body, making you swallow harshly against his shaft.

When you swallow, you rid the excess saliva that was in your mouth, so you lift off for a second to gather more. As you do, you look up to your best friend and see him staring down at you like you hung the stars, and the smile finally breaks its way to your lips.

You lean up to give him a kiss, and he meets you halfway, his hand falling from your hair to cup your face as he melts into your mouth. It's short, sweet, and soft, yet it makes your entire body flush with goosebumps.

"I love you so much," Jungkook breathes when you pull away, and you coo at the softy, pressing a gentle kiss against his pretty nose.

"I love you more, my Gukkie," you reply sweetly before returning to the task at hand.

"Not possi—" his words are cut off when you let a stream of saliva drip from your mouth before taking him down in one swift motion.

"Oh," he moans, both hands gathering your hair into a loose ponytail, following the rise and fall of your head as you deepthroat his cock. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, fucking shittt."

You quicken your pace, your right hand like a magnet below your lips, gliding up and down his length as you squeeze it intermittently, picking up on the subtle jerks of his hips. The spit coating his cock squelches with every stroke, the filthy noise echoing in your bedroom, making your hips shift against the heels of your feet. You're so turned on. Why is his dick so fucking pretty?

Your mouth is lethal, dragging all the way until the only thing left in your cave is the tip before gulping all the way back to the base. "Yesss, baby," he chokes, "taking it so well, my baby. So fucking well."

His praise loosens the final screw in your hazy brain, your hand on the base moving to grip his thigh as you gurgle as deep as you can, the tip brushing against your uvula. You gag, hard and loud, spit spilling from your lips as your teary eyes squeeze shut. Your nails dig into his skin, and he lets out the loudest moan of the night, his hips jerking forward roughly, forcing another gag from your throat.

"Mmmmmfh," you moan desperately, squeezing his thigh tightly and running your free hand back to his balls. You roll the sack in your hand, lifting your head up and down his cock with no mercy, sloppily choking on his throbbing length.

His hands tangled in your hair are shaking, his abdomen tensing as he's overwhelmed with pleasure. "God, look at you just taking it all babyy, hhffuckk,” he praises through a grunt, watching the saliva spill out from the corners of your mouth, dripping down to his balls while you fondle them. “Best fucking girl, you know that? Making me feel so fucking good. Just want me to come down your tight little throat, don’t you, my baby?"

Your eyes roll back behind your closed lids as you nod pathetically with a mouthful of his cock. You lift off with a wet pop, your eyes blinking open as you guide your hand from cupping his balls up to his shaft. You jerk him tight and sloppily before leaning down and taking his sac into your mouth. It's big, barely fitting in your mouth, but you force your jaw wider, using your tongue to usher his balls inside.

"Ahhhhffuck," Jungkook whines, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Your tongue laps around his balls ruthlessly as you quicken your tugs on his shaft. When you moan greedily, wiggling your head as the sac pulses and rolls against your tongue, Jungkook feels the familiar sensation flooding his body. It's faster and harder than ever before. He tries to gesture you off him, afraid if he speaks he will lose control, but you don't relent.

"Baby, y-you gotta hop off," he heaves, his ass cheeks clenching together to try and hold off the urge to cum.

"Mm-mm." You hum a no through a mouthful of ballsack, eyes fluttering open to look up at the gorgeous man trying to take away your meal. Your hand, running amok on his cock twists and squeezes, never halting as you blink up at Jungkook through your lashes.

"Ah," he whines with a shake of his head, his hips thrusting into the air, your mouth jolting with the movement as it's attached to his balls. You hum happily, tongue flicking against them. You can't wait to see his cum dripping down his abs—

Your mouth is ripped from his balls, hand unwillingly releasing his cock as he throws you back onto your bed with purpose. "Hey—"

Jungkook swallows your whine with his mouth, cutting off your thoughts at the source when his tongue delves through your lips, lapping at the taste of him lingering on your tongue. He successfully makes you forget what unimportant thing you were going to say as he devours you, your mouths moving together, sloppy and wet.

He pulls your tongue into his mouth and suckles on the muscle while his hand runs gently over your still-exposed nipple before trailing down to your shorts. Jungkook groans around your tongue when he brushes lightly over your heat, feeling the fabric coating your pussy-lips wet to the touch.

With a final suck on your tongue, he lets it slide back into your mouth before parting from your lips. He looks down at the area he's tracing light strokes on, and his cock twitches at the sight.

"Oh, baby..." He coos, his thumb running over the wet patch in awe before looking to you. Your lip is drawn between your teeth as you nibble lightly on the flesh, eyes clouded as you stare at him with a mellow haze. "So wet, pretty... Gukkie didn't give her any attention, and she's all achy now, hmm?"

"Mmhm," you nod softly, the pout on your face still visible even with your lip tugged between your teeth. Jungkook pulls his gaze from his thumb and looks at you, all soft and sweet, just for him.

"Need the ache to go away, don't you, pretty?" He mumbles against your mouth, not applying pressure but just letting your lips rest against each other.

"Yes, please, Gukkie." You respond, voice soft as you stare at his lips patiently, waiting for him to give them to you.

"Good manners, baby," he praises delicately before leaning forward and giving you a slow, gentle kiss. You melt into him, the sound of his pleased sigh making your muscles all mushy.

Jungkook pulls back and then presses three quick, rapid kisses against your lips, making you giggle. That seemed to be his goal when the side of his mouth curved upwards at your laugh as he lifted himself off your frame.

He kicks off his sweatpants the rest of the way, and they fall to the floor next to your bed, but he tucks his still painfully hard cock back into his black briefs to hold it for the time being.

Jungkook looks down at his effortlessly beautiful best friend, lying prettily on her bed, hair sprawled out against the pillow while she waits for him to take her any way he desires. Teenage him would be freaking the fuck out if he could see him right now.

His gaze drags slowly up your body, a lingering moment spent on the meat of your thighs, and he swallows before finally locking onto the space between.

You try to will yourself to be patient despite the aching throb coming from your heat, but your leg betrays you and twitches slightly. Jungkook catches the movement instantly.

"Gonna flip you on your tummy, okay baby?" he says distractedly, eyes never straying from the wet patch on your shorts.

"Oka—"

You don't get to finish your sentence before his hands are on your hips and he flips you as gently as a horny lacrosse captain can. A surprised squeak slips out when your face hits the mattress, and you both giggle, Jungkook leaning down to kiss your shoulder with a soft, sorry pretty.

Jungkook has always been a tits guy. Tried and true. It may have stemmed from growing up with a best friend that he was hopelessly in love with who happened to develop the greatest rack he'd ever seen in his life... But right now, as Jungkook stares at your soft, round asscheeks stuffed into those little cotton sleep shorts, he's beginning to rethink his entire life choices.

He kneels at the edge of the bed, using your ankle to gently pull you further toward him. You slide down the bed without any complaints, trying not to arch your back so you can be even closer to him.

Jungkook continues his ministrations on your curves before trailing up to the waistband of your shorts. He pulls them done, your panties coming with them, and he groans at the way the flesh ripples when released from the fabric. He grabs a greedy handful of each cheek with his big hands and gives them a rough squeeze, relishing in the way you push back into his grip.

"So pretty, my baby," he hums, continuing to knead the flesh as he dips to pepper kisses all over the flushed skin.

You whine, your hips grinding into the bed in an attempt to put some pressure on your ignored clit. He notices your movements and presses one last kiss to your right asscheek before sitting back and pulling your bottoms off fully. They fall into a pile next to his discarded sweatpants, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the freedom from the confines.

When one of Jungkook's hands slips between your belly and the mattress, you can't stop the noise of satisfaction that leaves you when he gently ushers you to your hands and knees. You quickly tug your top the rest of the way off, slinking it over your head and handing it back blindly to Jungkook. He takes it from you instantly, chucking it at the growing pile of clothes next to him.

On instinct, you fall to your forearms, nipples rubbing against your duvet as you arch your back, biting your lip when even the warm air of your bedroom feels cool against your burning cunt.

"Fucking hell..." Jungkook chokes out, the sight of your soaked pussy spread and bearing for him, making his mouth water.

"Ah-fuck!" A high-pitched squeal rips from your throat when he leans down and delivers a long, broad lick up your slit.

He lets out a loud moan into your pussy when you jerk back into him at the feeling. You're so fucking wet from being so worked up, and his cock throbs against his briefs at the taste of your juices leaking onto his tongue. Jungkook's hands slide to the front of your thighs to steady you as he loses himself, his tongue wrapping your clit, sucking the hardening nub messily into his mouth. "Mmmmfh," he sighs contently like he was taking a sip of a well-made café latte instead of feasting on your cunt like a madman.

When he releases your clit, dragging the flat of his tongue from the button all the way to your opening, your knees buckle. "Yes, Gukkie, fuckk yes!" You cry, writhing against his sinful tongue.

Jungkook almost purrs in delight, lapping up the slick between your folds, trying to get every last drop. His tongue finds its way to the entrance of your core, teasingly dipping in and out once, twice, before he loses control and thrusts it as far as it can go. "Uhhh-shhhittt," your head falls forward with a shuddery gasp, your walls clenching around his tongue, pulling a low groan from him.

Jungkook's hands slide up from your thighs to rest on your asscheeks, and before you can process the realization that he hasn't used his fingers on you yet, he's gripping the flesh and pulling you harshly into his face. "Uh!" You moan, your ass flush against his face as he buries himself, nose and tongue, right into your cunt.

"Hhhhhhhhhh," you're not even saying words anymore, just useless, incoherent noises spluttering from your lips as you quiver, grinding your pussy back into his face.

He tries not to focus on your other hole, the tight little puckered fucking one that's basically blinking at him. Taunting him. He closes his eyes as he focuses on losing himself in your pussy. Another day, he thinks.

Jungkook's mouth is covered in your juice, his head shaking from side to side as he drags his tongue furiously around your cunt. The filthy sound of your sopping pussy getting devoured by his tongue resounds around your bedroom, Jungkook's hips rutting into the edge of your bed needily.

"Yes, Gukkie, yes!!! So good babyyyy--ohhh fuckkkk!" You scream, your nails digging into the mattress as you grind your pussy back into his face.

Jungkook's eyes roll back, his moans getting swallowed by your slick folds. Fuck oxygen, he hopes he passes out.

He takes one of the hands resting on your ass and brings a finger to your leaky entrance. He pulls away for a millisecond to suck in a breath before dropping down instantly and enveloping your clit with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth. And with that, he finally pushes his middle finger into your hole.

You try to moan, but with the pressure on your clit and the sensation of finally being filled, the only sound that escapes is a strangled gasp. He lets your clit slip out of his mouth before his tongue quickly darts out to flick against it vigorously, his finger delving deeper into your hole with every jab of his tongue.

Your body shudders as he expertly works his tongue and finger in tandem, each movement driving you closer to the edge. "G-Gukkie, I'm so fucking close," you whimper, your thighs trembling around his head.

Jungkook's free hand tightens on your ass, pulling you even closer as he tries to add a second finger, his eyebrows furrowing at the resistance. "Relax baby, gotta let Gukkie in." He gives a particularly hard tongue of your clit, a pleased hum declared into your pussy when he feels your walls loosen to let his other slip in.

His tongue flicks faster, more determined, as he feels your walls flutter around his digits. He pulls back a hair to mumble against your clit, "You can let go now, my baby. I've got you."

With a harsh flick of his tongue and a curl of his fingers, you tense up. "Oh my fuck, Gukkie, yes!" You cry out, your body convulsing as he pounds against your g-spot with his thick fingers. Your eyes roll back, a final scream ripping from your throat as you shatter, your orgasm ripping you apart from the inside out.

Jungkook doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers relentless as they pull every last drop of pleasure from your shaky core. The hand of his that is still gripping your ass slips up to gently rub against your back when you collapse into the mattress.

Tears well in your eyes as Jungkook delivers a final drag of his tongue from your bud to your hole, swallowing every last drop of juice leaking from your cunt. He withdraws his fingers carefully, replacing them with soft, soothing strokes along your inner thighs.

It takes you a solid minute to come down from your high, your limbs still tingling from the hardest orgasm you've had in, well, ever. Jungkook continues his soft strokes against your thighs while you catch your breath, his head spinning and mouth still coated in your remnants.

"I get it now." Your voice is muffled by the comforter you face planted into, and you currently don't have the strength to get up.

"Hm?" Jungkook hums amusedly, his hand still tracing gently over your skin.

"Why girls always want your dick so bad. I get it now. If your tongue is that good, fucking hell..."

Jungkook snorts, leaning down to press a kiss on your lower back before flopping down to lay next to you. You finally lift your head from the blanket to look at your best friend, who's already smiling down at you, his tattooed arm tucked behind his head while he rests against the headboard.

His brow raises when you giggle suddenly and sit up. He doesn't have time to admire your bare tits almost in his face when your hand lifts up to his mouth. You're still giggling as you wipe at the shiny substance that coats his lips. A shocked gasp leaves Jungkook's lips, and he grabs your hand in a flash, his eyes holding clouds of pure betrayal.

"Why would you do that?" He's genuinely upset!

It's your turn to snort this time, lifting a leg over his lap so you're straddling him. "I'm sorry, Gukkie." You entertain him with an amused eye roll, leaning in to plant a sweet kiss against his lips.

Jungkook dissolves into the kiss, about to deepen it when you pull away. His eyes snap open, ready to protest, when suddenly your tongue flicks out, dragging flat across his lips to gather your slick that coats his mouth.

"Mm," you hum, making sure to get every bit around the corner of his lips and even the speck of gloss you see on the tip of his nose.

Jungkook is frozen. His cock thrashes against his briefs as he stares at you in complete awe, your tongue sliding back into your mouth to swallow the juices—your juices—that you just lapped up from his fucking lips.

Your lip darts between your teeth as you try not to laugh at his darkened expression. Looking down at the source of the throbbing against your bare pussy, you let out a teasing coo. "That looks really sore, Gukkie..."

Jungkook swallows. He needs to calm down or he's going to pin you into the mattress and fuck you open, raw.

"It is." He manages to choke out.

You pout, lifting your gaze back to him. "Don't want you to be sore."

"You don't?" He returns softly, dragging his hand over your bare thigh.

You shake your head so cutely that he almost shivers. You lean closer, gaze flickering from his pretty nose and then back to his eyes. "I could make the pain go away if you want..."

"Yeah? You wanna make Gukkie feel better, pretty?"

You nod, the hazy feeling taking over again as he runs his hands gently up your hips, resting gently on the swell of your ass.

You lift off him slightly, his hands moving with you as they're glued to your bum. Jungkook bites his lip at the wet patch you left on his boxers, and he thanks God he did because it muffles the pitchy groan that escapes him when your hand slithers beneath his waistband.

His eyes flutter shut when you give his painfully red cock a few gentle strokes, his head dropping back to hit the headboard.

"Baby," you giggle, "you're so fucking hard."

He lifts his head to give you a deadpanned fucking obviously look, and you just snicker, leaning forward to kiss his pouty lips.

"Oh no. Fuck."

He jerks forward slightly at your serious tone, his hands moving from your butt to cup the one of yours that froze around his dick worriedly. "Huh? What's wrong?"

Your eyes soften as you don't respond verbally, a devastated look clouding your gaze. He sits up seriously now. "Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I don't have any condoms." Your brows are pulled together so tightly, which Jungkook still doesn't like, but he releases a breath at your words.

"Fuck, Y/N. Don't do that. You scared me, I thought you were hurt or something." His head falls back to rest against your headboard in relief instead of pleasure this time.

You frown. "Why aren't you upset? Oh, did you bring some?" Jungkook almost laughs at the thought, lifting his head to watch as you release his dick to glance behind you at his overnight bag.

"What-no, baby. Of course I didn't bring condoms. This is probably the last thing I ever expected to happen."

Your pout is in full swing now, turning back to Jungkook with a very unhappy look. He just shakes his head at your pretty face, planting his hands on the mattress beside him and pushing up to press your lips to his.

When you pull away, Jungkook is about to ask if you want to grind on him over his briefs because he would be finished in approximately thirty seconds—

"I'm on the pill." You say softly.

He swallows. "I know."

"Do you-are you clean?"

"Yeah," he chokes out, "haven't ever not used a condom. And tested after that scare the other week with...uh..."

"Did you really forget her name?" You squint, shaking your head incredulously at his genuine look of confusion.

"I-uh, yeah I don't know... All I remember is that it kinda burned when I peed—"

You roll your eyes. "Her name," you press a quick kiss to his lips, "was Yejin."

"Ohh, yeah—"

"You also did that stupid 10-packet spicy ramen challenge that day." Another quick kiss to his lips.

"Hey, that was for a fundraiser—"

"And I'm clean... Tested with Mingyu."

"Oh." Jungkook's heartbeat picks up. Not at the Mingyu part, okay maybe a little, but mostly at the fact that you're hinting at him taking you fucking raw right now.

Your lips purse, his response suddenly making you feel stupid for asking. Jungkook picks up on the look instantly, his hands cradling your face when you try to look away.

"Baby," you're about to apologize when he continues, "it's your choice. I'd fuck you wrapped in a garbage bag if you asked me to."

Your lips wiggle as you try not to smile, looking back at him with a glint in your eyes. "You're really cute, Gukkie."

"Oh?" He hums, "I thought I was a pussy eating God... but cute works too I guess."

You snicker, falling into his lips and he swallows your soft giggles with his tongue. "So humble," you whisper against his lips when you break away.

Jungkook's about to tease further, but you don't give him the chance, your hand slipping back down to wrap around his shaft. A soft shudder leaves him, his hands falling from your face to grip your ass again, squeezing it firmly.

You're still a bit sensitive, but nothing you can't handle, and you shift forward a little so the lips of your pussy press against his length.

"Oh-fuck." He moans at the feeling of a bare pussy on his cock. And it's your pussy. Holy fuck.

You place both your hands on his thick thighs, leaning back to get the right angle before you slide your hips up and down, dragging his length through your wet slit. Jungkook's hands sprawl over your back when you lean back, cradling you almost, and he keens at the sloppy, squishy sounds that fill the room.

Your clit is alive again, thumping against his cock every time it drags through your lips, and you heave out a strained moan at the fresh wave of arousal that washes over you.

Your hand pushes against Jungkook's chest gently as you sit up, determined. He lets himself fall back against the headboard, face flushed, neck vein visible, while he watches intently. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of his thighs as you lean forward, your hand reaching behind you blindly to grip his shaft before you line it up with your entrance.

Your brows furrow, and you bite your bottom lip hard as you try to press the bulbous head in. Your opening does its best to stretch around the intruder and you let out a relieved whine when it finally gets sucked in.

"Fuck." Jungkook whimpers, his head slamming back hard against the headboard. Your walls burn as you struggle to accommodate his huge length, and he can fucking feel it.

You let the tingles flooding up your spine settle for a second. Then, you take a big breath, and drop.

"Mother fuckkkkk." Jungkook groans, his hands squeezing your ass tightly in shock as you take his entire length in one go.

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back in pleasure as you bask in the feeling for a moment. Every inch of you is filled with his thick girth. You've never felt so full and so fucking good.

You're so wet. So warm. So tight. Jungkook is grateful for the pause in your movements because he thinks he actually would've fucking come if you—

Your hips lift up until all that's remaining in you is his fat cockhead before you sink back down and take it all in one swoop.

Lewd noises spew from his lips as he forces his eyes to stay open, watching you swallow his cock over and over and over.

"So fucking good at that, baby, shit..." Jungkook grunts.

Your nails dig into his thighs at the praise, your head lifting back up to look at him as you increase your pace.

You begin to move faster, riding him with an increasing intensity that makes the bed creak beneath you. The friction and fullness send waves of pleasure through your body, making you gasp and moan. Your hands find his shoulders, using them as leverage as you bounce on his length harder.

"Godssooo fucking good," you pant, your voice a breathless slur. "So deep, Gukkie. C-can feel it in my tummy."

Jungkook's hands slide up your back with a growl, pulling you closer until your chests are pressed together. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongues tangling as the rhythm of your hips grows more frantic. The slick sounds of your bodies slamming together fills the room, enveloping you both in desire.

Breaking the kiss, Jungkook's lips trail down your neck, sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin. "Taking it so good, my baby," he worships against your collarbone. "So fucking perfect."

The praise spurs you on, your movements becoming pathetically desperate as you chase your release. You can feel the burning tension coiling in your core, ready to snap, when suddenly his feet move to plant themselves into your mattress and he begins to thrust up into you.

"Oh fuck yes, fuck!" You gasp, your knees trembling as he plows relentlessly into you from below.

"Shittttt," he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you up and down on his cock, balls slapping against your ass as he pistons furiously into your pussy. "So good at riding cock, baby, taking it all like a proper fucking slut."

You cry loudly at his words, your nails digging into his shoulder slightly as you writhe against his thrusts. "It's the pilates," you choke out, "developed good core strength. Great for riding dick."

Jungkook lets out a loud laugh, leaning forward to bury his face in your neck while his thrusts get even deeper. He feels your walls tighten around him sorely, and he heaves a shaky breath before slipping a tattoed hand between you two, thumb attaching to your clit. Your fucked-out uh-uh-uh’s echoes in his ears with every plunge of his cock, fueling him to go harder.

The sloppy bud twitches under his touch, his thumb slipping from how soaked you are, but he doesn't back down. He chases the hard nub and flicks it in time with his thrusts, cock jittering as you let out your loudest moan of the night.

"I'm gonna come, Gukkie. I-I'm gonna fucking come! Oh my goddddd!" you're bouncing on him wildly, your walls clenching furiously with no pattern, completely run with pleasure that you can't control it.

"Come on, baby," he whines through a thrust, his balls squeezing as you get impossibly tighter, begging to let them release their fluids, "Ohh-h-ffuck, can I come too, baby? Can I come in you? Oh fuck, fuck."

You don't even get to answer as you completely shatter, your orgasm taking control over your whole body that you swear you see the light. You cry out his name as best you can, your body convulsing, shaking around his length.

You can't possibly speak as you collapse against his chest but as you fall, you see the pained look in his eyes as he tries not to come. You want it so bad. More than you've ever wanted anything in your life. Before you know what you're doing, your thighs tighten around his legs, your mouth moves to the nape of his neck, and you bite. Hard.

Jungkook spasms, the deepest growl of a moan rips through his throat as he throws his head back and cums, deep and hot, right into your cunt. You whimper around the chunk of flesh captured between your teeth, his thick load tickling your walls as it fills your hole.

You feel complete.

Jungkook's hands gently stroke your back, grounding you as you come down from your high. Nothing but the sound of both your heavy breathing fills your ears before Jungkook breaks the silence. "You did so well, baby."

Your tongue laps and licks softly at the skin of his neck to soothe the subtle teeth marks you left, and he lets out a pleased noise through a shiver. Your head lifts to look into his eyes, a hazy smile spreading across your face when you take in his blissed-out features. "I didn't know sex could feel like that."

Jungkook's eyes flutter open at your words, his stomach clenching in pure joy that his softening cock still tucked up inside of you even lets out a shudder. "Yeah?" He asks softly, a hand lifting to tuck some of your messy hair behind your ear.

"Yeah," you nod with a flutter of your eyes at his gentle touches, "the fact it was you was probably the main factor," you mumble dreamily against his neck when you rest your head on his shoulder, "but that was still the best dick I've ever had."

His heart swells infinitely. You were by far the best pussy he's ever had, but he didn’t think you would share such a thought. He should've known by now that if you are many things, predictable is not one of them.

You wrap your legs around his waist, nuzzling into his neck happily as his cock stays plugged inside of you, keeping his load intact and secure.

Jungkook's arms slink under your arms gently so he can pull you even closer, wrapping you around his chest (and his length) like a koala.

"This has been the greatest night of my entire life, Y/N." He whispers honestly against your cheek before pressing a soft kiss into the skin. "Thank you."

You hum contently, tilting your head up slightly to look at him with a pretty smile. "I love you, Gukkie."

"I love you, pretty." He replies, peppering your lips with another three quick kisses, smiling in satisfaction when another you give him another giggle.

You let the comfortable silence wrap you for a moment before breaking it. "Do we have any pasta left from dinner?"

The mention of dinner makes him think for a moment. He cooked pasta for the two of you, which you ate not long before coming into your room. You ate before sex. And you don’t look like you feel sick.

He gazes down at you, his smile broadening, heart fluttering. "'Course, I made heaps. Are you hungry?"

"Mhm."

"C'mon then," he says, giving your bum a gentle pat, ready to lift you off him and clean you up before feeding you.

"'nna minute..." You mumble sleepily against his neck, and he stops his movements, hands settling back to rub soothing strokes on your bum.

"You want me to carry you, don’t you?" he teases, suppressing a smirk as he feels you clench around him absentmindedly at him reading your thoughts.

"Noo...." your voice trails off, not even trying to conceal your lie. Jungkook chuckles softly, feeling your smile against his skin.

He makes sure he has a tight grip on you, and you him, before he carefully lifts both of you from the bed. He leads you into your ensuite, his long arm reaching out to snatch some toilet paper and a clean hand towel from your shelf as he gently places you on the sink counter.

Jungkook captures the liquid that seeps from your core with the paper as he slowly withdraws. He gives you a chuckly sorry when you wince a little, the thick head of his cock tugging at your walls as he retreats. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips to distract you and slips out with a final tug.

After discarding the used toilet paper, he dampens the towel with warm water and tenderly runs it over your core gently, pulling a pleased sigh from your lips.

Watching your best friend in awe through half-lidded eyes, he makes sure to thoroughly clean up the mess on and in your pussy before he half-heartedly uses the towel to wipe at his wet length.

He chucks the rag into the laundry hamper on the other side of the large bathroom. It lands directly in the basket from his athletic skills, and he turns to you with a cocky smirk.

You shake your head in amusement, "you're a loser."

"Don't talk to me like that, gonna get me hard again."

Your eyes widen in mock shock, before you giggle into his chest. "Knew you'd be into shit like degradation... Just had this feeling."

"Only with you though." It's cliché, but he means it.

You lift your head from his chest. "Only for me, huh?"

Jungkook nods, still standing between your legs as you look up at him from your bathroom counter. His gaze turns a little more serious. "Only yours."

Your head tilts as you blink up at the most gorgeous boy you've ever seen in your life. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jungkook responds instantly and certainly. His thumbs tremble nervously against your thighs while he waits for your response, and they pull to a halt when you lean up to rest your mouth against his.

"Good," you murmur softly against his pouty lips, "because I'm all fucking yours."

END.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

thank you so much for reading. let me know what you think? love you <3

4K notes · View notes

planetsano · 10 months

Text

synopsis ⌒ ⭑⭒ (name)! (name)! what’s it like being a water girl for blue lock 11? being the sweetest little mascot the whole team wants to put their cock in?

warnings ⌒ ⭑⭒ female reader, gang bang, orgy, group sex, double penetration (same hole, vaginal sex), anal sex, spit, oral sex (giving and receiving), squirting, mlm sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, love triangle, pining, very girly hyperfeminine reader, aged up characters, pro au, mdni.

pairing(s) ⌒ ⭑⭒ rin itoshi x reader x isagi yoichi (main), blue lock 11 x reader pairings, various x pairings.

word count ⌒ ⭑⭒ 11.2k.

Being Blue Lock 11’s water girl was honest work.

How (Name) got the job honestly wasn’t because of any credentials or any kind of degree to further her chances, but instead, she had a pretty face and the personality of a golden retriever puppy which made it very easy for her to become sort of a “personality hire.” Ego knew it was a position that had to be filled but he didn’t want to do it himself. The trivial and petty details needed to be taken care of and that’s exactly what she handles. Water Girl is the official title but these days you’ve almost become more like a personal assistant to the team in various ways.

(Name) has come a very long way since her very first day. It’s not that she was bad at her job per se— but she’s clumsy and a little.. airheaded. (Name) would often do things like trip over her own feet and send the things she was holding flying into the air. The sweet thing couldn’t help it too much. How could she? She was nervous and wasn’t the athletic type, never was, and never will be.

Now it’s been about a year since then and she’s a bonafide professional! Or so she likes to say.

Her morning started the same as any other, with the soft chimes of her pastel-colored alarm clock gently pulling her from dreamland. Stretching like a content kitten, she hopped out of bed, excited to start her extensive morning routine. The first stop was her vanity table, adorned with all sorts of makeup and skincare products. She giddily picked up her favorite rose-scented cleanser and began washing her face, humming a cheerful tune to herself.

After the refreshing cleanse, she moved on to the rest of her skincare routine, carefully applying toner, serum, and moisturizer, all infused with the latest beauty trends— she’s been on his K-beauty kick recently. With a smile, she looked at her glowing reflection in the mirror, already feeling ready for the day. Next came the fun part— makeup. She typically liked experimenting with different looks, and today’s theme was soft and flirty, with a touch of shimmer.

(Name) meticulously applied foundation, blush, eyeshadow, and a winged eyeliner. As the finishing touch, she added a glossy, bubblegum-pink lipstick to complete her signature look. She already had what she was wearing planned— her favorite pair of high-waisted, blush pink leggings that hugged her curves just right and a matching sports bra completed with a white, knitted cropped sweater. Simple, comfortable, and cute. There wasn’t much else to it.

(Name) was soon grabbing her car keys, the cutest keychain from her collection dangling from the D-ring. Her tote bag was slung over one shoulder, filled with her daily essentials like lip gloss, a compact mirror, a cute notebook, and her iPad. She held a large basket in her arms filled with goodies for the team. (Name) practically spent all night preparing everything! She worked hard on these cupcakes too.. they better enjoy them!

She headed out the door, hauling everything to her vehicle. As she approached her car, she couldn’t help but smile at the glossy black paint and the adorable heart-shaped air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. It looked significantly better after the repair— but it wasn’t her fault! That pothole was in her way.

Despite all that, she loved her car! Even though she wasn’t much of a car girl to begin with— decorating made her feel like she was driving in her little wonderland. However, she still needed to call her dad when the mechanic was speaking in literal tongues every time she went in for an oil change.

After loading everything into her car, she made sure to bring a tumbler of her favorite homemade French vanilla iced coffee, a protein bar in case she got hungry, and a playlist of her favorite songs ready to accompany her on the ride. As she buckled up and turned on the engine, she couldn’t resist taking a moment to check herself in the rearview mirror. Lip gloss tended to make its way on other parts of her face— so cute but messy at times.

Upon getting there, she types in the code to gain access to the training facility. The electronic lock emits a soft beep, and the heavy metal door slowly hisses open. Stepping inside, the air is noticeably cooler and filled with a faint hum of machinery. Fluorescent lights line the corridor, casting a sterile glow on the metallic walls. She made her way down the halls to her “office.” It was just a locker somewhere tucked away near the staff’s office.

Ego used to be able to tolerate her in his office but he ended up getting her area because he just couldn’t handle the chatterbox she was and the playful antics that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. She was trouble and Ego was well aware. Her presence had a way of brightening up the most serious of situations and while some appreciated her for it, Ego found it a constant distraction. No matter how attractive she was.

Her locker was decorated with a collection of cute stickers, fairy lights, and a small potted plant. Fake, of course. She placed all her things in the space before heading to the team’s locker room. The automated light system turns on revealing rows of neatly arranged lockers, each placard with the team members’ names.

The hum of ventilation filled the air as she walked further in, her footsteps echoing off the polished tiles. The scent of fresh laundry and a hint of antiseptic cleaner lingered, creating a familiar and almost comforting atmosphere. She knew that within these walls, victories were celebrated and defeats were dissected. As she glanced around, memories of past games and silly stories flooded her mind, a small smile gracing her lips.

(Name) made her way through the rows of lockers, the soft, ambient light from the overhead fixtures casting gentle shadows. All boys got their small gift bag with items that were tailored to their personal preferences plus a cupcake she spent all night baking herself.

After that was all done, she grabbed the clipboard ornate with all sorts of cute stickers courtesy of her and notes scribbled on by the team with Blue Lock’s logo etched into the back. She went over the checklist for the day, as she stepped out of the locker room. It only took a few strides down the hallway to get to the equipment room, where a manicured finger grazed over assignment number one.

The first item on the list was to prepare the team’s water bottles. It usually consisted of making sure to fill their bottles with fresh, ice-cold water and lemon and then arrange them neatly in a cooler outside. Also filling up a “refill station” cooler that the team could use throughout practice.

It wouldn’t have been so much of a pain if it didn’t have been carried to the training field.

“Oh great.” She pouted softly. She had to do this all by herself? She can lift it but did she want to? No, her nails don’t have insurance. She looked at her Apple watch with furrowed brows, one of the early birds should be arriving soon...

“You need to stop leavin’ us this sugary shit all the time, princess,” Raichi says. He’s leaning up against the wide door frame, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the pink frosted cupcake up to his lips. Half of it is gone, clearly signaling he started devouring it on his way to the equipment room where she was.

“Jingo,” (Name) breathes out his name in a sugary and needy cadence— relief. Her voice is sweet like honey to Raichi’s ears but he’ll never say it to her face. There’s just something about the way she says his name that scratches a certain part spot in his brain and in return he finds himself feeling a particular way. He’s prickly because he’s 50/50 in his thoughts about her. On one hand, he’s almost certain that she knows exactly what she’s doing, and he can’t stand that her charms have this much of an effect on him. On the other hand, he’s not sure. There’s this doubt that she knows her effect and it pisses him off to no end that he can’t fully read her intent.

Usually, he can easily deem someone an “asshole” or not but when he looks at her, all Raichi is met with are these pretty eyes and he doesn’t see any hidden intent. It’s quite the opposite and in return, it evokes feelings of wanting to protect her. Raichi is quite the.. character though, everything must be difficult with him. It’s just in his chaos-inducing nature. His mental process is: she can’t not know how hot she is but there’s also this… air about her that makes people compelled to feel endeared by her. Simply making the notion of her using her visuals to essentially influence people to get what she wants goes against why the guys can’t help but dote on (Name).

He watches her stance as she dusts her hands together before aimlessly wiping her palms on the material of her pale pink Spanx. The look on her face screams damsel in distress— pretty pout on her glossy lips and her brows pinched in a furrow. (Name) didn’t catch what he said to her previously, clearly wrapped in her little conundrum of how she was going to get this to the field by herself before practice started.

“Can you help me, pretty please? It’s too heavy to lift on my own.” She says. He chooses to stay silent, merely looking at her with slightly raised brows as he finishes the last of the pink velvet dessert in his hand.

“Please? I made you cupcakes!” (Name) stomps her foot a bit, finding herself a little frustrated because her time was ticking and practice was starting in less than thirty minutes at this point. Ego liked to give her a hard time about her time management, even going as far as to mention a replacement if she “couldn’t get her act together.” It was an obvious scare tactic, he was just annoyed with her performance as it was not up to his standards. Everything under Ego’s ship had to be executed to his liking and he wouldn't settle for less.

“You made everyone cupcakes.” He deadpans as he balls the wrapper up and tosses it into a nearby can. His eyes trail back to hers after the fact.

“But that one was special because it had your name on it and I made it specially for you.” He can’t lie, she’s adorable. The way her demeanor is in the moment, slowly becoming more and more frustrated with his lack of cooperation. Not to mention the way she misuses the word— something she’s been saying for a while in the way she uses it so confidently.

“Specially?” He questions, pushing off the door frame so he can enter the room in its entirety. “It’s especially, you ditz.” He closes the gap between them, only leaving a couple of centimeters between their respective frames, and (Name) feels like she can feel his body heat radiating from him, she was always convinced that his blood ran hot just like his temperament. She doesn’t budge though, only continuing to stand her ground with the cutest little scrunched-nose smile. She was attempting to hold it back which made Raichi offer her the smallest bit of a smirk.

(Name) was a flirt and she was good at it.

“Move out of the way.” He mumbles surprisingly softly, his head tilted downward as he looks at her. He does so until he tears his eyes from hers to finally get his hands on the water cooler. Now that he has it, he sees that it may have been too heavy for her to carry by herself. Raichi lifts it with ease though, his biceps contracting as he does so. “Come on, I’m not hauling this shit outside for you by myself.”

As they walk side by side with each other down the empty hallway, Raichi’s eyes begin to drift to her more than he’d like. In the brief moments that it happens, his golden-yellow irises study his favorite parts of her face. The long lashes that seemed to flutter upon her upper cheeks with every blink she took, the cutest nose that she liked to put the tiniest bit of blush on, her pouty lips that were tinted with a light cherry shade— it made Raichi sick the way she so effortlessly made him feel. Despite her looks, there had been something irritating him; something that had been on his mind for a while he just couldn’t shake. Raichi was never the type to beat around the bush and become passive in his feelings. He would address this eventually when they’re met with the field.

The blond places the water cooler down in its designated spot at the end of the benches where the paper cups had been already placed.

“Hey,” Raichi calls for her, his expression unreadable as he looks at her.

“Hm?” (Name) looks at him with curiosity, her hands shading her eyes from the sun and her lips parted slightly.

“Is it true you’re fuckin’ Isagi?” He has no shame in the question but it really shouldn’t have been much of a shock from his lack of general etiquette to begin with.

“You! Are such a guy, Jingo!” She says incredulously, giving him a playful shove to his shoulder.

“What? It’s a question.” His brows are low, not finding an ounce of humor in his query.

“Isagi is sweet.” She responds.

“That ain’t what I asked you.” Raichi raises a brow.

“Why does it matter, huh?” (Name) lets out a little laugh, tilting her head a bit.

“It matters because I’m askin’ you.”

By this point, it was no real secret that quite a few of the guys harbored feelings for (Name) over time. She was just too good at what she did. Her bubbly personality and genuine kindness leave an endless trail of admirers in her wake.

The way she interacted with each member of the team made them feel special as if they were the only ones in the room. Her charisma was magnetic and drew people in effortlessly. Her “innocent” flirtations, the playful twinkle in her eyes, her infectious laughter— it had a way of making the guys’ hearts race.

“Oi, oi, oi. Less talking, more working.” Tabito whistles at the two as he approaches them, a few more boys trickling in behind him.

“Shut up, dickwad.” Raichi quips.

“No fighting, please.” (Name) sighs as she lifts a sheet on her clipboard.

“Hey.” Tabito’s voice rang out as he sauntered over to where (Name) stood not too far from Raichi.

She glanced up, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Hi, Tabito.”

He stretched his arms outward casually, his arms folded across his chest. “What’re you doing tonight?”

“Mmm, nothin’—” (Name) replied with an innocent shrug, her eyes sparkling upward at him as she grinned down at her.

Raichi rolls his eyes at the interaction, choosing to lace up his cleats. His nasty expression contradicted the light-hearted banter in the room. He watched as (Name) and Tabito exchanged playful words, his gaze flickering between them and the task at hand.

As the banter continued, Raichi’s mind wandered back to the countless moments he had witnessed between (Name) and the other guys on the team. He couldn’t deny the twinge of jealousy that gnawed at him, though he did a good job at keeping his emotions hidden behind his rough exterior. It seemed as though it were the Hunger Games when it came to (Name), and she was the prized gem whether she realized it or not. Raichi had a hunch that he wasn’t the only one who’d been smitten with this broad— for a while.

The boys continued to trail in one by one, sometimes in pairs like Reo and Nagi. But (Name) continued to do her daily checklist without issue as they all became settled— doing warm-ups until Ego showed up.

Practices were usually easier to handle than official games. It’s understandable; there’s high pressure and strain put on the players which essentially makes (Name)’s job, a real job. Tending to their personal needs was all that mattered as far as she was concerned. She had witnessed the team’s transition from practices to official games countless times, each time realizing just how much pressure and strain the players were under. Her role extended beyond just providing physical support; she was there to offer emotional support as well, ease pre-game nerves, and make sure that each player was mentally prepared to give their best on the field. Men are typically.. less in tune with their emotions than women are. It helps.

(Name) had taken on the role of the Blue Lock’s unofficial mascot because of this, particularly in Bachira’s eyes. However, there was a not-so-subtle undercurrent of aggression amongst some of the guys and Bachira. he had a way of hugging and showering her with affection that seemed innocent and endearing, but those who knew him well were aware that he knew exactly what he was doing. He expertly played the role of an adorable puppy causing a bit of mischief— something everyone adored, yet his intentions were akin to a mischievous younger sibling sticking their tongue out at their older sibling behind their mom’s back, knowing full well the game he was playing.

“(Nickname)!” Bachira says in a sing-song tone as he approaches from behind, covering her eyes with his hands. He gives her a cute smile as he looks at her from over her shoulder. “Guess who?”

“Bachi?” Her little name for him makes his heart skip a beat, an excitable giggle leaving his lips as he uncovers her eyes. She turned to face him and couldn’t help but smile as Bachira enveloped her in a warm embrace, their cheeks pressed together in a hug. His personality was contagious, and his affectionate demeanor always managed to tickle her spirits.

“Pretty, pretty girl~♡” Bachira’s playful tone made her smile softly, the endearing nickname earning a sweet laugh from her. She takes his face into her hands, smiling as she squishes his cheeks together.

“Weren’t you supposed to tone your hair a couple of days ago?” (Name) teased, an amused glint in her eyes as she ran a hand through his bangs— the color still a brassy yellow shade.

Bachira’s expression turned sheepish, and he scratched the back of his head with a bashful grin. “Ah, yeah, about that… I kind of forgot about it~ I need your help. I’m not good at this stuff like you. Come over and help me.” Before she could answer, she’d been cut off by a familiar voice.

“Come over without me too, Meguru? Cheating on me right in front of my face?” (Name) and Bachira both turned to find Isagi, walking over with a small smile on his face.

“Yoichi! Hi,” (Name) said, her voice sounding almost dreamlike as she greeted him. Her heart raced in her chest as she looked at him, but she couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement wash over her— good and tingly feelings all over.

No doubt about it, Isagi held a special place in her heart. Raichi's intuition was spot on, their bond was undeniable. They enjoyed their time together; both.. inside and outside the bedroom. However, it wasn't an official relationship per se. They danced on the fine line between friendship and something more, both enjoying the freedom that came with it.

Honestly, it was a connection built on physical attraction initially, and over time a genuine care for one another formed, making it all the more sticky especially for (Name) for.. various reasons. Isagi was the kind of person who could effortlessly bring a smile to her face and warmth to her heart, she felt like she was a little girl in school again. Something exciting to keep her anticipating what’s to happen next. It also helped that Isagi was cute as a button.

It happened at an after-party of a press conference nearly half a year ago— the drinks had been going and the two had gotten very close as the night progressed. All it took was a single look at him through her lashes and one too many flirty touches left on his arms and chest. He asked if she wanted to leave early and she agreed without a second thought. Of course, they played it off nicely, leaving not at once but one by one about ten minutes apart. Isagi fucked all her sorrows away, leaving both of them tangled into the sheets breathless. It’s been like this ever since but, Yoichi does have plans.

“Don’t hog (Name) all to yourself!” Bachira punched his shoulder, his tone had a teasing lilt to it.

“I don’t hog her, you little..-” Isagi reached over to put him in a light headlock, the both of them giggling and playing like they were still kids at recess. She smiled as she looked on at the two, feeling grateful that they found each other when they did.

(Name) looked over her shoulder and happened to lock eyes with the ever-so-brooding captain of the team: Rin Itoshi. Her smile falters a bit, brows pinched in a displeased furrow as a heavy feeling settles in her chest, leaving her feeling a bit helpless. She didn’t like the feeling— she didn’t like it at all. She was a relatively happy girl who didn’t like being taken out of character, she prided herself in that.

“So, (Name), are we helping Bachira with his hair today?” Isagi asked, his curiosity piqued. His voice held a hint of playfulness, but underneath, there was a trace of vulnerability. He’d been testing the waters—wanting to see whether or not he could crash this little “private party.”

As he spoke, Isagi’s eyes flickered between (Name) and Bachira, trying to gauge their reactions. His grin, although friendly, was subtly tinged with an edge. It wasn’t just curiosity driving him; it was jealousy that simmered just beneath the surface. In the moments that followed, Isagi’s body language revealed more than just his words. He subtly moved closer to (Name), not wanting to be left out of the conversation or, more importantly, her attention.

“Huh..?” She turns her head back to Isagi and Bachira, shaking her head as if she’d been trying to snap out of something. But Isagi had already noticed that she seemed off like she was bothered by something or rather someone.

“Oh, sure— if Bachi doesn’t mind.” There’s a smile on her lips that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. By this point, Bachi managed to wriggle free of Isagi and made his way over to talk to Nagi and Reo who weren’t too far from where they stood.

“Hey,” Yoichi calls for her gently. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course! I’m okay.” She answers as she nods her head. Her smile seems more genuine this time, not like before a few seconds ago. Maybe she’s managed to suppress whatever she had been feeling— a fleeting wave of emotion only elicited by a trigger.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks, his voice lowering an octave or two. He just barely takes a step closer, pretty blue eyes filled with worry.

“No, Isagi,” she answered delicately, her fingers nervously twirling a strand of her hair. “Why would I be upset with you?”

Isagi's concern deepened as he noticed her anxious gesture. He reached out, gently touching her arm. “Just making sure..”

(Name) glanced down at his hand on her arm, a fleeting moment of comfort in his touch. She sighed and looked away, her gaze fixating on a nearby bench.

“Is it about him?” Isagi asked.

“What?” Her brows furrowed and she followed his gaze to the distant figure of Rin. He nodded almost imperceptibly. “Is it about him?”

“I'm not talking about this right now, Isagi,” (Name) replied, her eyes returning to Isagi's, a mixture of emotions swirling within them. They were narrowed, threatening him silently. It had been an almost incredulous expression as if she couldn’t believe that he was choosing to carelessly bring this up right now of all times. Isagi was a smart boy, he knew to leave it. (Name) kept a leash on him in a way, despite the sweetness of her demeanor and face— she was capable of having a mean streak.

As the team was immersed in their practice drills, the words hung in the air like an unspoken echo.

“Isagi!” Reo calls him over, both her and Isagi looking over to where the trio stood.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Isagi says, his lips pressed together in a tight line as he gives her a final glance before jogging away.

(_ _ ) . . z Z

The training facility buzzed with energy as the team went through their practice drills, Blue Lock’s technology seamlessly integrated into every aspect of their training. The walls of the facility were adorned with holographic screens that displayed real-time data and strategy simulations. The air was filled with a familiar sense of intensity only they understood as the team, focused on honing their skills for the upcoming game.

As the practice session neared its end, (Name) caught sight of Ego observing from a distance. He stood by a large holographic display, analyzing the players’ performance metrics. They managed to exchange eye contact which is when Ego signaled to (Name) to come where he stood. She nodded in acknowledgment and made her way past the field. She’ll never get over just how tall he is in comparison to her as she practically cranes her neck to look up at him.

“See me in my office in five minutes.” He requested, adjusting his glasses further onto his face with his middle finger. Ah, he was so intimidating sometimes— especially when his glasses had a glare. Ego was nice enough to her though, even if he was a little scary.

“Okay!” She nods quickly as he dismisses himself, barely giving her enough time to acknowledge his request.

Reo had been watching the exchange from a distance and couldn't resist the opportunity to tease her— he walked over a piece of minty gum being chewed by his pearly whites. With a grin, he asked, “In trouble?”

(Name) giggled at his words. “I hope not,” she replied.

He leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well, if you need someone to come to your rescue, you know where to find me,” he said, popping his gum. “You know how intense Ego can be.”

She matched Reo’s gaze, tilting her head, and offered a gentle pat on his cheek. It was how seemingly ignorant she was about little things like eye contact; a historically intimate, sometimes even taboo action. Reo recognized that he was flirting quite openly, fully aware of it. However, her natural charm had him feeling somewhat.. disoriented one could say. He’s almost certain that she wasn’t picking up on his advances but rather, she was just being herself. Reo felt like he was out of his league, realizing he needed to step up his game to get his point across.

“I'll remember that,” she replied, a hint of playfulness in her tone. As Reo pondered how to navigate her, (Name) continued the conversation with a hint of innocence that seemed to come naturally to her.

“So, Mr. Shining Armor,” she began, a playful twinkle in her eye, “If I ever need, like, an alibi or something, you’d totally have my back, right?”

Reo grinned. “Yeah,” he replied. “I’d hire you a lawyer if you really needed it, but you’re a good girl, no? You wouldn’t even need an alibi to begin with.”

A playful pout formed on (Name)’s lips as she huffed out her cheeks and stomped her foot in playful protest. “Says who! I can hang with the best of them!”

“Oh yeah? Well, you’ve got about two minutes to get to Ego’s office.” He says matter of factly.

“What! You’re lying!” Her demeanor shifted to one of mild panic as she glanced at the time on her wristband. With a swift and almost comical spin, she hurriedly dashed off, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. “I’ll talk to you soon!”

She made her way to Ego’s office, knocking briskly before letting herself in. His office was a blend of sleek design and advanced functionality. The walls had the same interactive screen she had seen earlier. The AI was amazing, she had never seen anything like it until she landed this job. It was capable of anything it seemed, projecting game footage, tactical analysis, and real-time player stats that all just scratched the surface of it. Ego pulled up her “profile” one day, it had information that she didn’t even give consent to give out. Weird? Yes, but she’s seen worse since she started here.

As she entered, the screens adjusted to her presence, dimming slightly as if they were on standby mode. Ego stood at his desk, which was more like a command center with all of the digital interfaces and gesture controls. He motioned for her to take a seat, and she obliged, settling into a chair near to his own. Ego’s gaze met hers, his usually stern expression softened slightly by the bluish hues of the various screens.

“I wanted to talk to you about something important, (Name).” She listened attentively as Ego spoke to her.

“A very important game is near, so I need you on your A-game, (Name),” Ego said, making her furrow her brows just a bit in curiosity. “Yes, you’re the appointed water girl; however, you’ll also have other duties such as acting as an.. on-call personal assistant of sorts. I need you to keep them happy and stress-free no matter how ridiculous their requests are.”

“Requests?” She blinks at him and tilts her head.

“Yes.” He didn’t seem as though he was willing to explain. Ah, of course. Ego never liked to be questioned anyway.

She let out a sigh but her usual warm smile appeared once again as she reassured him, “You can count on me, Ego! ” A cute smile grew on her lips, and she saluted him playfully. Ego’s eyes rolled at the gesture, though a hint of amusement danced in his gaze.

“Alright, enough theatrics,” he said, his stern exterior softening just a touch as he adjusted his frames. “I trust you, (Name).”

(_ _ ) . . z Z

The final whistle blew on the starry-lit soccer field, the tension of the intense match at an all-time high as Blue Lock emerged victorious. The crowd roared with excitement and the stadium lights illuminated the scene like a grand stage. The team had just delivered a performance for the ages. The players had gathered in the center of the field, their eyes still shining with the intensity of the match— the pure satisfaction and euphoria coursing through their veins. It felt as though the energy surrounding them had been visible, deep blue. Signifying power, confidence, and authority. All things that they had been representing in that very moment as they went home with the win, the opposing team had long since exited the field leaving Blue Lock to celebrate amongst themselves.

They all exchanged sloppy hugs and high-fives, congratulating each other on a game well played— jumping on each other and dog piling on top of one another.

Isagi couldn't tear his gaze away from (Name) who had been working just as tirelessly throughout the game— an essential presence on the sidelines throughout the night. Her eyes sparkled with pride and admiration as she watched them all celebrate their triumph. Her hands had been interlocked with Anri’s own as they cutely jumped with each other. Both were so excited as Ego stood not too far next to them looking as pleased as he possibly could look for him, his hands had been placed in his pockets with an odd posture. It’s not long before he’s exiting himself amongst all the chaos.

Amid the post-game frenzy, Isagi felt an overpowering surge of emotion. Ignoring the paparazzi cameras and the cheering crowd, he made his way to (Name) on the sidelines. He had no clue what he was doing, his feet seemingly moving on their own as he grew closer and closer to where she stood.

With the world as their witness, he gently took her by the hand and pulled her close, their hearts beating in sync but her reasoning with the excitement of the victory and Isagi’s because he was about to put everything on the line.

“Isa..?” (Name)’s voice has always been sweet but he thought it sounded more sugary when she said his name.

With the stadium lights casting a halo around them, Isagi looked deeply into (Name)’s eyes and was swept away by the heat of the moment: he kissed her. Time seemed to stand still as they locked lips.

As Isagi closed the gap between them, his breath hitched, and he could feel the warmth of (Name)’s breath on his lips. Their faces drew nearer, eyes closing in unison, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. His hand, trembling ever so slightly, cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly brushing her skin as he tilted her head gently.

(Name)’s lips were soft and inviting, meeting his with a tender, tentative touch. It was a gentle exploration, like two puzzle pieces finding their perfect fit. Isagi’s heart raced as he felt the electric spark of their connection. He could taste the sweet excitement of the victory on her lips, mixed with the saltiness of the sweat on his lips from the intense game.

Their mouths moved in perfect harmony, a dance of love and longing. Isagi’s other hand found its place on the small of (Name)’s back, pulling her even closer, their bodies pressed together, fitting like two halves of a whole.

The kiss deepened, and their tongues met— a gentle and passionate duel as if they were pouring every ounce of their emotions into this single, stolen moment.

As their lips moved in sync with one another, a hush seemed to fall over the stadium, even amidst the continued celebrations. The two were lost in the intensity of their kiss, the world fading away until it was just the two of them, wrapped up in the heat of the moment.

The paparazzi were momentarily stunned by this unexpected display of affection but they quickly recovered, cameras capturing the raw, unfiltered emotion that flowed between one of the star players and the sweet little water girl. The team began to realize what was happening soon after, confused looks on some, angry expressions on others, and a few who just seemed to be happy for Isagi. The stadium had long since erupted in a new wave of cheers and applause.

Isagi eventually pulled away from her lips, breathless and flushed but wearing a smile that spoke volumes.

“Yoichi..?” She blinks up at him, finding it hard to process what had just happened and more importantly, what it all means. “What was that?”

“I want everyone to know that I want you.” He confessed.

The aftermath of Isagi and (Name)’s intimate moment hung in the air, a delicate whisper during the fading cheers in the stadium. However, the serene atmosphere shattered abruptly as (Name)’s desperate cries pierced through the celebratory echoes. The transition from the warmth of the kiss to the chilling urgency in (Name)’s voice unfolded like a sudden storm.

“Rin—! Rin you’re hurting me! Rin Itoshi! Let me go!” The harsh urgency in (Name)'s voice resonated through the narrow hallway, her plea filled with both physical pain and emotional distress. She struggled to keep her footing, her feet almost stumbling as she tried to keep up with Rin's determined strides. The locker room loomed ahead, its cold, metallic door reflecting the dim light from a flickering overhead bulb.

Rin’s face was a tumultuous sea of emotions. Anger and frustration bubbling at the surface that almost always remained cool and collected, made him deaf to the celebration’s distant echoes. His fingers clamped around (Name)’s upper arm like an unyielding vice, pulling her along a path she desperately wished to escape from. The last thing she wanted was to fight but it was clear that not only had the festivities been forgotten in Rin's mind, but any chance of him enjoying them had been cruelly dashed. Not like he was the celebration type anyway.

The tension crackled like static electricity in the space between them. Despite the lingering thrill of the victory, the atmosphere inside the locker room weighed heavily upon them, contrasting sharply with the post-game excitement. Amidst the disarray of his teammates’ gear, Rin’s voice dripped with frustration as he confronted (Name).

“You, should really fucking know better, (Name).” Rin’s penetrating gaze remained fixed upon her, the tension palpable between them. (Name) looked upset and disheveled as looked up at him, never once backing away from his gaze. She shot back with a voice trembling with exasperation and frustration, “What do you want me to do, Rin? You don't want to be my boyfriend, but you get angry with me when I get attention from someone who actually wants to be with me! In public!”

Rin's jaw clenched and his brows furrowed in response to her words— clearly, she’s been talking about Isagi. Rin wasn’t stupid, not that they had been trying to hide it well to begin with. “Isagi of all people.”

(Name) couldn't contain her anger any longer, her voice raising as she spoke. She made sure to point a mean finger at him, poking his chest as she did so. “Don't talk about him like that. As if you treat me better than him. You’re crazy!”

Just as the tension reached its height, the locker room door swung open, revealing bewildered-looking teammates as they all trickled into the room. They heard a commotion coming from inside and decided to investigate. Although they had all been listening piled on top of each other seconds before Isagi finally pushed through.

“Did we walk in on somethin'?” Raichi asked. (Name) and Rin exchanged conflicted glances, gazes torn between the intensity of the game and the unresolved issues in their relationship. Rin looked particularly unbothered by the exchange though, it should be a talent with how he can keep his demeanor a thorough constant even in the most stressful situations. Most of the time.

“Yes!” (Name) exclaimed, but Rin quickly retorted. “No,”

“What’s going on?” Isagi asked, closing the gap between him and her. He had a worried look on his face as he looked down at her.

“Nothing, we just had a discussion is all.” She answered.

“No. Let them know what’s mine is mine.” Rin stated, causing her heart to skip a beat. She hated that— her heart often betrayed her brain so often, especially when it came to Rin. She was mad at him!

“Excuse me?” Isagi tilted his head, brows furrowed as he took a step closer in Rin’s direction.

“Please, not right now. We just won a big game..” (Name) said, her voice carrying a heavy solemnity as though she were deeply concerned. She absolutely couldn’t stand when they fought. When any of them fought, really. Rin’s jaw clenched again, but he refrained from saying more for the moment, his gaze locked onto Isagi. It’s at that moment when Rin takes his hand and grabs a hold of her face, turning her head towards him and planting a sloppy kiss right on her mouth— an act that shows his possession of her.

The locker room fell silent as they watched this display of affection, leaving everyone, including Isagi, momentarily stunned.

(Name) blinked in astonishment, her cheeks hot, and her heart raced. She didn’t expect such a public display of affection from Rin, especially during their argument. His actions spoke volumes, and despite the tension that had filled the room, there was a sense of raw passion in that kiss.

Rin finally pulled away from the kiss, his intense gaze still locked onto (Name), as if daring anyone to challenge his claim. It was a bold move, one that left no doubt about his feelings, even if it had created an even more complicated situation.

(Name), her voice shaky but filled with a mix of emotions, whispered to Rin, “You didn’t have to do that..”

In a bold move of Isagi’s own, he closed the distance between himself and (Name), taking her face gently in his hands, and he leaned in to kiss her. The locker room seemed to hold its breath as Isagi’s lips met (Name)’s in a tender kiss.

Isagi felt his body respond immediately to her kiss, his cock hardening against his leg. He could feel her soft lips pressing against him, and he could hear her whine softly into the kiss. Maybe it’d been the heat of the moment, but being watched— having all eyes on him as he essentially marked his territory had him reeling. It felt similar to being on the field.. having someone feel threatened by his very sense of self only for him to claim the goal as his. This felt no different.

“I—” (Name) stood in the center of the room at a loss for words, her heart torn between the two men who both held a special place in her life. She could feel the intensity of the emotions radiating from Rin and Isagi, their heated argument having morphed into something far more complex. The situation had already taken an unexpected turn, and the tensions between Rin and Isagi were undeniable. Rin reached out for (Name) but Isagi acted on the same instinct— both of the men simultaneously closed the distance between themselves and (Name), their lips meeting hers in a kiss that’d been rather rough and unpoetic.

The room descended into a breathless hush as the trio partook in an impassioned, electrifying kiss. It was a tempest of emotions and longings, where Rin and Isagi’s competitive spirits transcended the realm of sport, now manifested in the fervor of their lips upon (Name)’s. Each kiss was an assertion of ownership, a silent declaration of their claim on her heart.

Unspoken desires smoldered beneath the surface, like coiled embers ready to ignite. Both Isagi and Rin may have carried a secret yearning for one another, one that was concealed beneath the shadow of their shared affection and feelings for (Name) and their ongoing rivalry. Perhaps it was a whirlwind of emotions, a silent tug-of-war between jealousy and attraction. Neither dared utter the truth if there were any, and yet deep down there existed an unspoken curiosity about what it would be like to bridge the divide that separated them.

Past the competition, their emotions churned frequently with high ups and low lows. With frustration intertwined, it blurred the fine lines that separated friendship and rivalry. Hours spent together on and off the soccer field had woven a tapestry of connection, a bond that transcended the boundaries of just being teammates but friends. The bond, though sometimes frayed by the throes of their shared affection for (Name), added another intricate layer of complexity to their relationship. It was as if they constantly teetered on the precipice of something more. But truthfully? Neither of them wanted to even entertain the thought. Or so they tell themselves.

The remaining teammates were initially taken aback, exchanging enigmatic glances among themselves. Some wore the cloak of astonishment, while others concealed their intrigue behind veils of confusion. A few remained adrift in the sea of uncertainty, unsure of how to navigate the tempestuous waters of this unexpected turn.

The locker room that was once heavy with tension and discord, had metamorphosed into a simmering crucible of passion and desire. The air itself seemed to shimmer with the intensity of their emotions, like molten steel in a crucible, forging something new from the raw elements of longing and affection.

The taste of desire and longing hung heavy in the air, and what had begun as a spontaneous act was now evolving into something far more passionate and consuming. As the trio’s kiss deepened, the locker room seemed to pulse with an almost palpable energy. The boundaries between all of them blurred, and for that suspended moment in time, it seemed as though everyone knew where this was heading.

Rin’s hands moved to cup her breasts upward, pushing them together before harshly pulling down the babydoll pink top to expose her bra.

“R—! Rin!” It was similar to a chirp, the way (Name) said his name. She looked breathless with her lips glossy with a mix of both Rin and Isagi’s DNA— oh, shedding flustered. Like a sweet little rabbit who got her cottontail pulled by a big bad wolf.

“Shut up.” Is the only thing he muttered into her neck as his large hands continued to grope her.

“Is this really okay, Captain?” Isagi asked, blue irises narrowed deliberately trying to evoke an emotion out of Rin by using his title.

Rin pulled away from her, his chest heaving as he met Isagi’s intense gaze. “It’s not like they haven’t been thirsting after her like mutts.” Rin retorted his voice low and possessive, a defiant challenge in his words.

Rin’s next response was a sly, almost wicked statement. “Give them a show,” he whispered, his words laced with provocation as he locked onto Isagi's gaze, fully aware of the effect his words would have on their audience.

The next moments for (Name) seemed to blur into a haze. Time lost its meaning as she found herself caught between Rin and Isagi— Isagi’s hand found its way to her throat from where he stood behind her. Slender fingers wrapped around her delicate and sensitive neck while Rin’s hands roamed.

“Look at what you did..” Isagi presses his erection into her, his thick shaft snug against the pillowy softness of her ass.

“Yoichi..” She gasped softly, brows furrowed as she was directed to look upward.

“Yoichi..” Isagi mocks her softly, his own voice going up an octave. “Shh. You’re real quiet..” Isagi whispers directly into her ear, his breath hot and shaky as he speaks to her in a lower tone— his words sending a shiver down her spine. His tone, honeyed in arousal and heat, carried a note of urgency that left her heart pounding. “This is how you act with him?” His question held a weight of not only a weight desire but possessiveness; and jealousy.

“She knows her place and her limits,” Rin answered for her as his fingertips skillfully unclasped the heart clip that held her bra together. (Name)’s tits had a delicious drop under their weight, her buds hardened rather quickly not only because of Rin’s stimulation but the temperature in the locker room had been chilly.

Bachira virtually had no qualms about palming himself through his shorts, his cock stiff with a perverted little expression on his face as he watched the scene unfold. Truth be told, this isn’t the first time he’s done something depraved like this. See, Bachira had a bit of a fixation on voyeurism and exhibitionism. It was almost as if he was in the room by himself, enjoying his sight before of him like he were at home watching the perverse bookmarks on his burner account on Twitter. This to him was even more of a treat— not only does he get to watch but he gets the luxury of having others watch him.

“See what your effect is on all of these perverts?” Rin asks, his voice low against her ear. “And yet you still walk around clueless, these little skirts and small tops.”

Isagi makes the next move with hands sliding down behind her waist where fingertips unzip the back of her skirt. His thumbs hook into the material of both her mini and the panties she wore, pulling both garments down in haste.

“Fuck me.” Raichi groaned, he put up a desperate attempt to hold onto whatever sanity he did have but he hasn’t gotten laid in weeks and this is probably as close to (Name)’s pussy as he was going to get. So help him god if any of this gets out to the press he’s going to fucking lose it. He starts palming himself through his shorts too, only gaining the courage to actually pull himself out when he catches a glimpse of Bachira who had been holding his cock at its base, rubbing his frenulum with the pad of his fingertip. Its head was leaky— comically so as it dripped slowly onto the floor below him where he stood. Raichi spits into his hand before he wraps it around him, giving it a firm squeeze before stroking himself slowly. His balls are heavy, it's embarrassing to say that he has to be careful. He doesn’t want to be the first guy to cum, especially in this kind of situation.

The room had been filled with breathy moans and explicit sounds and statements as they all became meshed together in, let’s not mince words: an orgy.

Reo and Nagi seemed to have fallen into their solace between each other, lips locked in a fervent kiss as their clothed clothes rubbed against each other, it wasn’t very long before they’d been frotting bare against each other. Yukimiya follows in both Raichi and Bachira’s footsteps by pulling out his cock and jerking himself off, imagining that (Name) was the one who was touching him, kissing him, making him cum anywhere he wanted to.

Isagi’s mouth is hot on (Name)’s cunt as she sits on the bench, her legs propped up on either side of her to keep her legs open and spread. His pointer finger and middle spread her lips apart as his tongue delves into the heart of her sweet pussy, causing rivulets of her sticky essence to drip down his chin. Isagi was always a messy eater— he was one of those types who liked to eat pussy for his pleasure. He could be between her legs for hours if she let him but she gets a little restless because she ends up wanting to get fucked after her second orgasm on his tongue. Isagi and Rin were different in that regard. It’s not because Rin didn’t want to or like foreplay: he just preferred to fuck because he could do it for hours when time permits.

Rin looks down at her while she holds his hard cock in her hand. Her tongue feels warm, slippery, and wet as she circles it around his cockhead. He watches her build up her momentum as she starts to suck on it instead— she always did this and that alone would make him cum if she tried but she makes it a point to prove she can swallow him whole without gagging. (Name) says it feels more rewarding when he can cum down her throat too— it’s probably what she was working towards right now, slowly taking him inch by inch. She knows her limits though it seems because she’s using her hands with what she can’t get down to.

Rin thinks he likes this position: he’s standing over Isagi in both a literary and metaphorical sense. He’s on his knees serving his girlfriend while she focuses all her attention on him— doing her best to make him feel good. Rin’s compliance to all of this carries a certain weight of unresolved tensions, it feels more like a means of control than the genuine connection between Isagi or any other teammate in this locker room. In Rin’s head, he’s doing them a favor. He tosses a mere glance at the rest, eyes focused on the depraved displays of lust in front of him.

“..Shit. That feels good.” Tabito’s eyes are closed shut as Chigiri’s mouth wraps around the head of his cock and Hiori licks up and down his shaft. The redhead’s looking up at Tabito through lash lines that seem a little too feminine— he’s holding a piece of his hair tucked behind his ear as he slowly envelops Tabito’s growing cock. Hiori’s hands are both wrapped around his shaft and Chigiri’s as they work along Tabito’s cock, often meeting at the top of his cock to share a wet tongue kiss.

Tabito didn’t think he could get any harder but here he is now, trying not to blow his load prematurely all in their pretty mouths. There’s a part of Tabito that feels a small amount of shame— or perhaps something akin to embarrassment as he gets his cock sucked. Maybe it’s the overall absurdity of the situation: the entire team getting essentially cucked by the water girl everyone wants to be balls deep in and the two dickheads who have had a one-up on them all the entire time. Another reason is probably because he’s one of those men who prides himself in being an Alpha male of sorts— bragging about how many women he can pull but once again, here he is getting his cock sucked on by two pretty boys.

Isagi’s lips encircle her clit, applying gentle suction as he slips his pointer and middle into her slit. Warm walls encompass his digits as he rocks them a certain way he knows she likes. (Name) is already finding it difficult to focus on sucking Rin off with Isagi between her legs like this. Her free hand finds its way into Isagi’s hair, giving him a gentle grip as she tries to ground herself. As he continues to suck on her sensitive bud, his actions become more fervent— sloppier and more urgent. Isagi could feel her insides twitching along his fingers, that’s why. She’s close and he wants to be the first one to make her cum in front of everyone. (Name) can’t help but tear her lips away from Rin’s cock, her hand continuing to jerk him off as she looks down at Isagi.

“I’m—!” She nearly chokes on her cry as she feels the initial push over the edge— then the dips come and she’s shaking. “—cumming, I’m cumming..!” (Name) repeats over and over again as she basks in the complete and total absence of control she has over her body in that very moment. It’s pretty— it's so pretty. She almost looks helpless but the sounds she’s making are making them spin. Isagi’s mouth is still attached to her core, following her body as she moves around. She rides out her high like this and Isagi only pulls away when he’s satisfied.

“Hah.. dammit..” Baro has been keeping to himself this whole time. The interesting thing about him is that he’s really a gentleman. He’s never been in a situation like this before but he’s also never been this turned on in his life. Baro also just learned that he likes to watch, his cock has been twitching in his thigh for almost thirty minutes. He’s making a mess in his boxer briefs because he can feel himself getting wet. The way his cock is jumping is enough friction to cause stimulation, when (Name) cums, he has to grab himself at his base to keep him from cumming. Baro looks down at himself, pulling up the inseam of his shorts and underwear to let the tip of his cock peek out. It jumps again, the cool air hitting its shiny and glistening tip as it drools. Precum leaking onto the floor.

The trio shifts their positions so that Rin is lying on the bench while (Name) straddles him, sheathing his cock at its hilt— Rin’s hands on her ass as she adjusts to him. It’s been a while since she’s had him because of a little disagreement they had. Well, in actuality it was everything but little. They hadn’t been “seeing” each other for the past couple of weeks as they usually do because of Rin’s.. approach to how he handles certain things. Specifically when it comes down to having conversations involving emotions and how to deal with them in healthy and effective ways. The “what are we” conversation didn’t go as she’d planned for it to be. He gave her a vague response that resolved nothing which in turn made her spiral, but it’s not like she‘s some sort of loose canon. She had her moments, yes.. but when it came to Rin he brought something nasty out in her that only he could.

“Don’t look at me,” (Name) says softly, her voice carrying a tone of resentment that holds no real weight as she grabs his face to make him look in another direction. Isagi is behind her as he prods his cock between her supple ass cheeks, ever so gently pressing the tip onto her puckered hole. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips when he saw how she jolted upwards, reaching behind her to shoo him away from that part of her.

“Hng— Isagi, not there. It’s been too long..” (Name) looks at him from over her shoulder. Isagi thinks she looks cute like that: brows pinched in a furrow with a pout on her lips she doesn’t even know she’s sporting. That’s alright. Her pussy seemed more appealing anyway, even if Rin’s cock had already been working its way into her. It was going to be nearly impossible to try to squeeze himself into her, Rin was already big admittedly— the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. But Isagi the issue here was that he didn’t like sharing. He leans over, lips connecting to her neck in a sweet kiss.

“Then can you take both in here..?” Isagi’s fingers gently brush against the same pussy that was currently stuffed with Rin’s cock. Isagi almost wanted to scoff— it was big and she was tight enough to make her grip around his shaft. He hated how much his cock was drooling, it was almost a little embarrassing.

“No, Yoichi.. I don’t think I can fit both.” She says. “I’m not prepped at all, pervert..” Her eyes are closed in a hum, as she reaches to hold the back of his neck into place while Rin plays with her clit. His eyes are low and lidded as they hone in on the precious little flower between her legs. He’s starting to move now, slowly, but he’s gotten a bit impatient. The fluttering around his dick isn’t helping either— he’s almost entirely tuned out everyone else.

“Then you’re going to try, right? For me?” Isagi pressed another kiss into her skin and his eyes flickered upward and over to Bachira who had seemingly inched his way over to the three, a bright-eyed look in his eye as he looked at (Name) like she was a pretty prize, adorned with the wrapping paper and bow. Rin gives him a skeptical look from the corner of his eye but doesn’t say anything. Rin tolerated Bachira more than other players for whatever reason. Unfortunately, he thinks that Bachira may have grown on him over time. Rin would never admit that but he’s sure if it had been anyone else, he’d be beside himself but Bachira isn’t touching her so it’s acceptable.

“Meguru,” Isagi hums. He reaches around to grab a hold of her face to make her look at Bachira, placing another kiss on her cheek. “She’s so pretty, right? Prettier than the last time, you think?” Isagi looks over at him again with a knowing grin.

Last time.. that was supposed to be a secret between the three of them. Now she’s feeling embarrassed and a little bit like a slut. But it was a one-time thing! That night they were supposed to be toning Bachi’s hair, they had a little bit of wine— too much wine. One thing led to another and she ended up getting spit roasted with Isagi in her pussy and Bachira taking her mouth. If she wasn’t so out of her mind she’d say something— or maybe she wouldn’t, it was the truth after all. But they are going to get in trouble afterward, they made a promise and totally broke it.

“Mhm~! ♡” Bachira nods. “She’s a tough girl, she can take it.”

“We didn’t get to try last time but you think (Name) can fit two inside, right? She's doubting herself like a ..silly girl? Is that what you call her when she’s being clumsy?” Isagi flashes another smile, yet Bachira succumbs to his impulses, bridging the distance to share a kiss with (Name) before tenderly transitioning to Isagi, his lips moving in a gentle but firm kiss.

Rin doesn’t say much. It's odd but he’s soon pulling himself out of her so that they could shift into another position— one that could accommodate her more comfortably than the one she was in currently. (Name) assumes a reverse cowgirl position, while Rin supports one of her legs from behind the knee to establish a stable anchor. Isagi mirrors the action, both positioning their cocks at her pussy— one that seems too tight to fit both. Bachira’s been hovering, leaning over to spit right onto her pussy.

“You can do it! ♡” Bachira chirps, a chuckle adjacent to a giggle leaves his lips when she reaches out for him— he lets her with no question. She held onto the nape of his neck, fingers intertwined in the soft brassy hairs. The shuffle of footsteps echoed as the onlookers encircled the four, creating an impromptu audience. It’s almost like a.. circle jerk but with a view. All of their dicks are in hand, stroking themselves to the sight. The attention is getting (Name) off, she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t. Her cunt was visibly pulsating around nothing, her need to be absolutely filled to the brim was growing and the task of taking two cocks into the same hole seemed less daunting and more like a necessity.

“Holy shit..” An involuntary hiccup escapes her, accompanied by a restrained moan. It's the sensation of something notably large making its initial attempt to enter. They both push into her inch by inch and the grasp on Bachira’s hair is far less friendly. He doesn’t mind though, it feels good for him. “Oh my god—!”

It's a stretch that initiates with a subtle and controlled tension.. gradually intensifying until it teeters on the edge of discomfort. As she reaches the peak— both of their lengths halfway, a satisfying ache ensues, accompanied by a paradoxical sensation of relief as the apex passes. It’s a blend of pain and pleasure, as the muscles protest against the stretch while simultaneously yielding to the therapeutic pull of her walls, leaving her with a lingering sense of being full beyond imagination and gratification.

“Christ..” Rin says under his breath, letting out an almost shaky breath. It’s tight— it’s probably the tightest thing he’s had since he fucked her ass the first time. It’s an enveloping pressure that molds around him, both hard and soft. It seems as though his cock and Isagi’s are battling for room within her but there just simply wasn’t any.

“Look at you..” Isagi on the other hand can’t get over the view— none of them can. He’s only ever seen things like this in hardcore porn, never in real life. She’d stretched beyond belief, both cocks inside of her completely to the hilt. He doesn’t know what to do with himself other than stare and wait for her to permit them to move. Bachira’s making good use of himself by playing with her clit, lips locked onto her own as she reached to play with his cock.

She breaks away from his lips momentarily to look at Isagi with a darkened gaze before uttering the words, “Fuck me.” Rin misses not a single beat as he reaches upward, grabbing a handful of her hair at the base to yank her head back. Both men start fucking into her at a worrisome pace, one would think they’d be a tad more generous but it was clear there had been no more patience left. They wanted to cum in a hot and willing cunt. Their cocks both push and pull at alternating times, hitting different targets deep inside of her. She’s not catching a break between the two of them and it’s making her vision hazy.

Chasing after a high becomes the focal point of everyone’s agenda. Every touch seemed to be heightened amongst everyone, sending waves of euphoria through each of their bodies— there a sense of urgency surged through the air as something inched closer and closer. Her vision had been completely obscured by the overwhelming euphoria building in her core, the harsh lighting of the locker room becoming almost soft and blurred. Her tits jump at every impact of a pump, hardened buds getting licked and sucked on by Bachira. Some images she can make out when she comes to like: Baro, Yukimiya, and Raichi stroking themselves, Reo bent over on all fours while Nagi fucks him from behind, Chigiri and Hiori in a 69 position while Tabito alternates between Hiori’s ass and Chigiri’s mouth.

Unfortunately, she can’t hold it together anymore. It's the peak of pleasure, sensations converging into an intense climax—a symphony of ecstasy where every touch, breath, and heartbeat harmonize in sublime rhythm. Her mouth hangs open into a sweet little ‘O’ and she starts to shake uncontrollably, her cunt becomes a geyser as she squirts on Isagi’s lower half in short bursts. It’s a chain reaction: guttural moans breaking out as the onlookers begin to cum, multiple cumshots had and soiling the floor where they stood.

“Ah— fuck.. fuck.. fuckfuck—” Isagi’s hips start to falter terribly as he sputters out curses. Both he and Rin cum at the same time, filling her abused and beaten hole with their seed. Isagi doesn’t know it, but he’s overstimulating both (Name) and Rin because he’s the type to fuck through his orgasms until he absolutely can’t move anymore. Their cum sloshes inside of her and it’s enough to start oozing out of her, down her ass, and dripping onto Rin’s balls.

“Stop fucking moving.” Rin barks at Isagi before he eventually tires himself out, he slips out of her first then Rin carefully follows suit. The rest oozes out of her slowly and onto the bench, shallow breaths making her chest rise and fall.

As the echoes of pleasure subside, a serene aftermath settles in, wrapping the room in a cocoon of shared intimacy. In the dim glow of the aftermath, bodies rest, breaths sync, and the hazy ambiance settles.

She deserves a promotion.

#blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #isagi yoichi x reader #rin itoshi x reader

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genderkoolaid · 3 months

Note

I feel like very few pro-trans people are talking about how the current moral panic about teens transitioning is explicitly centred on transmasc teens.

I’ve seen a lot of TERFs very explicitly cite the reason that they got involved in anti-trans campaigning was because more “girls” started transitioning in the 2010s (when before it had been more “boys.”) The initial survey on “Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria” by Lisa Littman surveyed parents of teens over 80% of whom were “female sex at birth.” The Cass Report is explicitly about “the reasons for the increase in referrals [to the NHS for youth transition] and why this increase has disproportionately been seen in birth registered females presenting in adolescence.” Probably the single most popular anti-trans book about youth transition is Abigail Shrier’s Irreversible Damage, which is about transmasc teens.

Not to say that transfem teens aren’t targeted, especially when it comes to sports & bathroom bans, and being painted as predators from a very young age — although there’s definitely also been a lot of hysteria about transmasc teens “seducing” other teens into transitioning, as well as being aggressive, and it’s not like transmasc teens don’t also get beat up in bathrooms.

But just! I don’t see most pro-trans people acknowledging that this whole anti-trans-teen movement was fuelled in a huge way by transandrophobia (or whatever you want to call it), and that one of its primary goals is stopping transmascs from having any agency over our own bodies. At its core, it’s about transmascs not being properly submissive baby-makers who are attractive to straight men and the property of their parents.

It’s not just about transphobia, it’s about transandrophobia specifically and the fact that people can’t even name that makes me doubt what I’ve seen with my own eyes.

(Follow up to my last ask about the trans teen moral panic) I don't think it would bother me so much except that I've so often seen people try to silence transmasc voices on this topic, or say that transmascs are just collateral damage, as if we're not one of the primary reasons it exists and one of its primary targets. I feel like "nothing about us without us" should apply here, you know?

All of this, absolutely.

I've seen people claim that actually, ROGD and its associated panic attacks are actually secretly about transfems at their core, because transfems are the (only) one's blamed for young girls transitioning! Which is fucking wild!!! Like not only is it not true (parents tend to blame social media, specifically transmasc creators who talk about transitioning) but like why do you have this impulse where even things that are blatantly targeting transmascs can't actually be about transmascs. Why are we always the insignificant side characters in our own experiences.

This is how erasure functions: if you can't deny that anti-transmasc violence is happening, deny that its happening to transmascs. Obscure the victims and how the violence is motivated by their transmasculinity.

& then there's also the way that people act like infantilizing misogyny is 1) the only thing any transmasc ever experiences 2) is Oppression Lite and is more annoying than anything. Like sure let's just forget all of feminism and the well documented ways in which being infantilized kills and ruins lives. Because when it's a transmasc it doesn't really count.

Ik somewhere out there there's a video of ContraPoints where she actually corrects another person on their erasure of radfem anti-transmasc rhetoric. Let's see more of that please.

#m.#ask box

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lovinpelova · 4 months

Text

courtside | n. mühl

summary; when nika makes a promise she fulfils it. [SMUT]

🎵 everyday hustle - future

nika had already found her footing on american soil by the time you met, the only indicators she wasn't born in the states was her last name and accent if she spoke for long enough. you'd been assigned as part of the media team to enhance your work experience in sports during your time at uconn, the fans and your lecturers loved the content you provided and always came crawling back for more, so you decided to have a one on one interview to satiate their hunger a little longer.

you'd chosen a player at random, landing on number ten after a moment of contemplation regarding which player number to pick and immediately had nika beckoning at your call. her coach informed her of what you planned on doing, waiting for her to catch her breath as she stood with a heaving chest and hands on hips, licking her lips with hooded eyes focused solely on you. she nodded her head in understanding and introduced herself, shaking your hand formally before making a mental note of your name so she could stalk your instagram later on- that plan was executed perfectly when she asked for your number after the interview and gained your username after a couple hours of texting.

fans could tell that nika was flirting with you from the moment it started, going crazy in comments and posting all over tiktok about the way she looked at you or subtly complimented something referring to you. no matter what, nika was finding a way to steer the interview towards you, wanting to find out everything possible and not being sneaky about it in the slightest. time flew by and before you knew it you'd been together four years with nika playing her last college game, getting ready to be drafted into the wnba with you by her side.

the tough opponent was iowa in the final four, nika rearing to go and jumping in her spot since the moment she woke up for multiple reasons. she wanted to prove herself, she was one step closer to the championship game and had just been informed that the wnba were going to draft her. you couldn't be happier for your girlfriend, she'd been going on and on for years about how when she goes pro all her sacrifices were going to be worth it and she'd be able to spoil everyone she loved with the new opportunities she'd have for them.

right now, you were sitting courtside with a camera in your hand to take an occasional flick of the game. iowa truly were a tough team - you'd never seen uconn struggle like this before - but the championship game was still in sight for you all.

then the fourth quarter came along.

nothing was working anymore, iowa was clicking like puzzle pieces and caitlin clark was on the move. nika bagged assist after assist and rebounded as much as she possibly could with a gorgeous three-pointer but the buzzer had to come at some point; and it ended with iowa up by two.

of course she was upset, you were the first person she came to with tears on the verge of spilling down her cheeks and her fingers clutching the uconn '10' jersey you wore, your arms tight around her in every way she needed. either way she'd made it to the final four and played immaculately, you reminded her of that before she congratulated iowa and on the way home whenever she spoke bad about herself.

"i'mma win everything for you."

the croatian mumbled as she inhaled your scent, pulling you further into her with her head on your chest. she breathed out deeply in comfort when your fingers found their way to her hair and scratched lightly, egging her to continue.

"you're not gonna see me lose ever again. gonna go pro and everything's gonna change,"

"i don't doubt that for a second moja djevojka."

nika smiled and chuckled into your chest at the sound of croatian rolling off your tongue, knowing her odd tutoring lessons were paying off with the way you perfectly pronounced one of her favourite nicknames.

"and before you know it, you're gonna be moja žena. watching every game, getting anything you want- stuck with me whether you like it or not."

"you know i wouldn't want it any other way, moja žena. go to sleep niks, i'll be here when you wake up."

--------

a year after uconn lost to iowa, nika had stayed true to her word. she was going pro either way, but now you were basically on the verge of engagement with the way she was hinting towards marriage recently and she'd remained consistent in her career. she'd lost a few games here and there but had made up for it by winning the league already with seattle, earning a spot in the all-wnba team and being named defensive player of the year with the odd sponsorship deal coming her way.

nika truly was living up to her words, she made you feel loved every day and reminded you of that before she left for training until the moment she fell asleep with you in her arms. she'd talk nonsense about how badly she wanted you to be her wife, the pout on her lips being kissed away when you shut her down to remind her that she was too busy for such a big commitment right now, because she knew you were right. still, she had the ring hidden in her sock drawer for safekeeping.

she'd had the odd day off and always decided to spend it with you, loving your company more than any other option she had thrown her way. right now she was laying comfortably on your chest, large figure draped over yours to supply warmth no blanket could ever match as you binged your latest shared obsession on television. you'd just finished editing some shots for seattle storm not long ago, your studies paying off and gaining you an excessive interest in job prospects when you sent your folder out- but of course you had to go for seattle, it was perfect.

"i can't wait to marry you."

a murmur vibrated your chest from none other than the woman melting into your hold, your arms tightening around her as you laughed lightly in response.

"we've still got plenty of time for that."

"i keep gettin' asked about you though, makes me think about it more."

your hands tangled into her hair and gently scratched at her scalp, feeling her fingers tighten around your waist and pull you towards her as she sighed into you.

"n' what do you say?"

nika smiled as she lifted her head up, watching your hands fall to her shoulders before she gently lifted your left ring finger to her lips and kissed it with her eyes locked on yours. you grinned at the intimate action and saw her smile lightly in return, other hand caressing her face lovingly.

"i tell them you're gonna be my wife before they know it."

"every time?"

nika nodded her head enthusiastically, both of you grinning madly as she leaned in to kiss you gently.

"every time."

she mumbles against your lips, vibrations making you smile into the kiss before you wrapped your arms around her neck to pull her closer and deepen it.

"you're gonna have to show me some of these interviews."

"i'd rather show you how well i plan on treating my wife for the rest of our lives together."

nika mumbled into your neck as she kissed down it fondly, hands crawling up your shirt and tugging on it with your nails scratching her back lightly. you threw your head back to allow her more access and felt her smile into you, pulling away to slowly peel the fabric off your body as your hands pawed at her shirt to do the same, eyes immediately scanning her body as she leaned up and took it off above you. she noticed your gaze and smirked, grabbing your hands and guiding them along her toned stomach with a cocky smile whilst letting your hands wander on their own.

you quickly sat up and trailed your lips along her abs, dipping your fingers into the curve of her spine so she arched into you with a soft gasp. nika let her hands tangle into your hair gently as she stared down in admiration, mouth open to let out heavy breaths that left her stomach heaving against your lips.

"baby,"

the croatian breathed out before licking her lips, jaw hanging low with how you were mouthing at her skin.

"tonight's gonna be about you, not me."

you heard her withhold a groan when your tongue sloppily licked its way up from her hips to the bra she wore, the point guard grasping your shoulders and weakly attempting to push you down. your mouth was doing wonders on her skin and it drove her wild, the strength she always bore withering away as she leaned back onto her heels and adjusted herself to be sitting upright against the back of the couch. your lips forcefully detached from her skin and both of you let out a matching whine, thighs going either side of her waist to let her hands guide you closer whilst she initiated a heavy kiss.

nika soon grew impatient, beginning to push and pull your hips in a rocking motion and moaning once you got the hint. your body moved against hers as she trailed her lips down your neck, hand slapping her muscular back as you felt her start to suck before she squeezed your hip apologetically and went back to simple kisses trailing down your pulse point with a soft grin. as much as you loved your girlfriend, covering up hickeys from her endeavours was a nightmare.

"why can't it be about the pro baller?"

you quietly breathed out, hands pushing her further into your collarbone by the back of her head. the brunette moaned into you at the mention of her occupation and pulled away to look up at you with swollen lips, chest heaving for air whilst she wore a cocky smirk.

"'cus it's about the pro ballers wife."

nika trailed sloppy kisses down the space between your breasts before you could respond, pulling at the strap of your bra and letting it snap against your skin to signal she wanted it off. you reached behind yourself and unclipped the bra as quickly as possible, nika trailing her fingertips under the straps to slowly peel them down your arms before tossing the material elsewhere in your shared apartment. hearing her breath out heavily as she stared shamelessly at your chest, your face grew red whilst she licked her lips hungrily and began to let her hands wander.

the croatian looked into your eyes for a moment of consent and gladly received what she was looking for, ducking her head down to connect her mouth with one of your nipples whilst her hand gently massaged your other breast. she teased her teeth against your skin and urged you to arch further into her, free hand dipping into the curve of your back as she kissed along your chest to pay the other side attention.

"niks, baby..."

the mention of her favourite nickname pulled her head from your chest, inquisitive puppy eyes staring up at you. heaving breaths left her swollen lips and she continued to let her hands trail around your back, gently massaging your hips whilst tugging at the back of your shorts in a needy manner.

"please baby,"

she murmured, head moving towards your neck once more to trail kisses down your pulse point and along your collarbone, internally grinning when you pushed her closer at the feeling of her lips sucking marks into your skin.

"molim- trebam te. želim te osjetiti, moja cura, da?"

nika began rambling in croatian whilst she nuzzled her nose into your upper chest, placing kisses between every other word and pulling you closer to show her desperation.

"da, mala- da."

your immediate response in her mother tongue made nika swell with pride at how good of a language tutor she was proving to be, quick kisses being placed down your torso before she effortlessly flipped you onto your back and positioned her body between your legs.

"nika,"

you whined as she continued to trail her hands aimlessly, her head popping up from your stomach in concern.

"shorts off and stay up here. želim te poljubiti."

your dirty talk transitioning into croatian made her groan audibly, hands pawing at your shorts and underwear after she seeked one last look of approval before tearing them off and throwing them behind her carelessly. breathing laboured as she leaned in to kiss you passionately, your hands tangled into her hair and she pushed her hips down, cursing against your mouth as she felt you throb against her.

"jebi bebu. needing me, huh?"

her croatian accent making a strong appearance when she switched back to english made your hips buck into her as you eagerly nodded your head with a whine, eyes boring into hers whilst she wore a smirk. nika grinned and leaned in to kiss you softly, digits tracing the outline of your body as she trailed them along your hipbone and towards your centre, gasping into your mouth once she felt how wet you were.

"god, it's been so long since i've had you like this."

you almost whimpered in response to her voice mumbling against your lips, all thoughts of everything and anything else being cut off when nika dipped a finger into your arousal and pulled it out to rub circles over your clit. your eyes closed in pleasure as the croatian rested her forehead against yours, watching your facial expressions intently with pride bubbling up through her at the soft moans you were beginning to let out.

"niks,"

you murmured whilst reaching up for a kiss, nika gladly reciprocating passionately as she hummed in response for you to continue. her fingers didn't let up, placing more pressure by the second before dipping into your arousal to tease.

"i need you inside me baby."

the brunette groaned with her eyes shutting in pleasure, the buck of your hips pushing her back into the moment as she pressed a finger into you. nika slowly thrusted in a steady rhythm as she prepared you for a second finger (knowing you wouldn't be able to finish no matter how deep her singular long digit was able to reach) whilst she continued to rub her thumb over your sensitive clit and kiss along your neck.

she revelled in the soft moans of her name you were letting fall from your lips, hands clutching her bare back and feeling the way her shoulder would move or flex as she thrusted as you groaned in response. you took the opportunity to feel her toned body once more, hands travelling all over the chiselled muscles she'd earned from hours in the gym and shamelessly squeezing where you felt them flex as she slowly sunk a second finger into you.

"that's it ljubav. takin' me so well- that's it, good fuckin' girl."

"nika, god..."

you trailed off into a breathless moan as your girlfriend perked her head up to level yours at the mention of her name, smiling proudly as you returned the grin and moved a hand to pull her into a sweet kiss. the croatian gradually picked up her pace and swallowed your moans with ease, watching the way your body responded to every twitch of her fingers as she slowly began rubbing them against your g-spot with every thrust.

"baby!"

you yelled out in surprise, hips bucking into hers as she continued to abuse your cunt. your nails raked down her back to feel the muscles flexing as she fucked you, eyes momentarily closing in pleasure whilst her back arched into you at the feeling of your fingertips trailing down her spine, both of you now chest to chest with your hand pulling her forehead to your own to maintain the intimacy and keep her close.

"so beautiful, sound so pretty for me. good girl."

you whined in response to her praise with your nails digging into her shoulderblades, relishing in the quiet moans she let out as her fingers continued to pleasure you skillfully.

"god you feel so good princess,"

with your heads pressed together, nika nudged your shoulder to prompt you into opening your eyes and keeping them locked on her own, knowing how much you loved eye contact. the croatian continued her deep strokes as you saw her shoulder moving rapidly in the corner of your eye, your body jolting up and down with the force she was using to drive you into an orgasm. matching smiles grew on your faces as your moans picked up in frequency and volume, nika watching in awe and bringing her other hand down to stimulate your clit.

"gonna be my wife, watching every one of my games courtside. gonna give you everything you've ever wanted, win trophies for you, take you to award ceremonies, walk fuckin' red carpets with you. all that shit- i'm doin' it with you."

"yeah niks- as long as it's with you, that's all that matters."

the point guard pulled you into a passionate kiss as she felt you tighten around her fingers, gently coaxing you through your high and continuing her thrusts to help you ride it out with soft praises whispered into your ear, lips scattering kisses all over your body. your hands dug into her muscular back and eventually relaxed, still keeping a grip as you calmed down to have one final feel of her muscles that she sadly never showed off.

"good job baby, did so well for me. such a good girl."

she whispered against your lips whilst leaving soft kisses every so often, both of you breathing heavily and calming down from the heated moment as she slowly pulled out, apologising for the discomforted whine that escaped you but immediately making up for it when she licked your arousal off her fingers.

"you're gonna be the death of me one day."

"wouldn't be a bad way to go, huh?"

"shut up and stop being so cocky."

you shoved her shoulder lightly as she mocked offense, sitting up to be hovering above you on her knees the same way she was when she took her shirt off earlier.

"can you blame me? i've got my girl feelin' me up and whenever i look in the mirror i see these guns. don't think i didn't feel those sneaky touches baby."

"shut up! you never let me touch them any other time- stop doing that!"

she started flexing her muscles in all the poses she could think of, pulling cocky faces to elicit a laugh from you as you shoved her stomach lightly to get her to stop, the croatian laughing with you. you shared a sweet kiss before she picked you up, wrapping your legs around her waist and bringing you to your shared bed before setting you down on the edge.

"what you needin'? food, water, a bath?"

she listed options of aftercare as she kneeled down in between your legs, relishing in the way your hands tangled into her hair when she peppered kisses along your naked form.

"just need you niks."

"you sure?"

"m'sure."

you pulled her up with a smile as you got comfortable on the bed, pushing into her arms when she opened them for you and ensuring your bodies were as close as possible whilst you drifted off into sleep together, no doubt going to dream about finally marrying the love of your life.

#nika muhl #nika mühl #nika mühl x reader #nika muhl x reader #nika muhl smut #nika mühl smut #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #seattle storm #seattle storm wbb #wnba #wbb #womens basketball

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midnightmoonkiss · 3 months

Text

Sweetly Obsessed

Soft Dom! Hinata Shoyo x Fem! Reader

Summary: Tanned skin and a boyish charm draws you in at a party, his touch is sweet and his scent intoxicating. Taking things slow is hard, but Shoyo would do anything to feel you again.

Category: Smut! 18+ Only - Minors DNI

WARNINGS!: bathroom fingering, squirting, male masturbation

Word Count: 3.5k+

A/N: havent written in a hot minute so its a bit messy LMAO

Just To Clarify:

This is mixed in with Yuri!! On Ice LOL

reader doesn’t have much experience

I have no idea if parties like this even happen but for the sake of this fic they do tyty

Parties were never your scene.

The obnoxiously loud music blasting throughout the rooms and halls, vibrating the walls and floors of whatever venue or home it was held in always gave you a headache the moment you stepped through the entrance.

No matter how many parties or gatherings you attend, you never get used to it - tylenol being your best friend at these functions your pro athlete pal drags you to.

Seeing pros from all across Japan at these large functions drinking heavily was always an experience. You never really watched much sports, so you never recognized any of them.

Most of them were cocky and annoying from just winning in whatever sport they were from, or overly pushy and flirty, to which the socially anxious Yuri would have to whisk you away from them.

It was uncomfortable.

Supporting your friend meant everything, and most of the time it wasn't so bad. So, you'd usually stay by his side until the figure skater decided that he had had enough socializing with fellow Japan sport representatives and wanted to retire for the night.

The free expensive food was always a plus, of course.

However, this party was different.

A new athlete was on the scene, and his boyish charisma had you like putty in his hands the second he flashed smile at you.

You could feel his smile even now against the skin of your sweaty, hickey covered neck. The once deafening music now just a distant thrum bouncing around the metal stalls of the bathroom you hid away in, the boom of the stereo matching with the rapid beat of your heart as your mind clouded with the unfamiliar sweet, sticky haze of desire.

He was magnetic, electric almost, and instantly pulled you in the second he introduced himself bashfully to you,

“Hey there, my name is…”

“S-Shoyo..!” You gasped his name, two tanned and calloused fingers knuckle deep in your soaking pussy, messy arousal dribbling down his wrist and your spread thighs to the clean tile floor as his fingers thrusted in and out. You swear he was matching his pace to the song that played, Scream by Usher you think it is..?

It's hard to think right now as he pressed yet another searing kiss behind your ear, whispering in a teasing tone, “You're so tight and wet, sweetheart. Havent been touched like this in a while, hmm?”

His deep hum tickled your prickly skin, and you could only whimper pathetically, hips desperately grinding down on his digits as you lost yourself in his addicting scent. Sunscreen, icy hot, sweat, and something smelling of mahogany and cinnamon, strangely comforting.

Your mind soon succumbed to the fog he created as the rough pad of his thumb took to rubbing circles at your throbbing, attention starved clit as he added a third finger, deliciously stretching you even more.

You felt so full, your own fingers never being able to be compared to that of a man like him, that of an athlete who used his hands every day. Someone who practiced finger strength religiously and now used them in a silent yet lewd prayer of twisted desire as if you were some god he needed to worship.

It was as if your heart was in your throat, and you could feel his own pounding against his thick and steady chest as he pressed you closer to him while he leaned against the stall door. That tan, thick and muscular thigh of his coming between your own as his foot rested up on the toilet seat to spread yours more and graciously give you a chance to get off your unsteady feet.

Now you hung helplessly in the air as he expertly played with your pussy as if you were a doll, pressing all your right buttons and rubbing against you in places that made you mewl - you had no time to feel embarrassed when he was making you feel so good.

The salacious noises spewing from your spit slicked lips, as well as the consistent shlick shlick shlick of your tight, creamy walls sucking and gushing around his fingers was like music to the volleyball players burning ears.

He felt as though he had died and ascended to heaven, adrenaline keeping him unbelievably warm.

Hinata Shoyo had never felt this way with any of the few girls he had met and seduced before, he had never felt so hyper aware yet fuzzy around the edges. The confidence he had gained over the years wavered when he first saw you.. and now.. carnal desire nipped at the primal side of his brain, a growl rumbling deep in his chest.

He wanted to devour you, consume everything you had to offer him. Shoyo was already so helplessly addicted. Obsessed.

“M-my stomach…! I feel… I feel weird!..! Hnngh! aa..aa.!”

You couldn’t help but cry out, the unfamiliar tingling making you nervous, but you were too lost in the onslaught of pleasure to truly pay it any mind. Your body itched to run away from his touch, and subconsciously it did, but he would just hold you tighter and fuck you with his fingers faster, only making your toes curl in your heels.

“Yeah?” He chuckled breathlessly as your nails dug into his tan forearms, core tightening deliciously around him. Oh, how he wished he had you bent over right now, such a sweet little thing for him. He was blessed by all the gods, surely, for getting the chance to see an angel like you writhe in pleasure against his sturdy body.

“Just hold on to me, I've got you.. shh..shh..”

Shoyo was always a talkative person, and he couldn't help but talk to you even now. A true chatterbox full of nerves and energy no matter what.

He wanted to hear your fragile voice as he drove you insane, he needed to hear you break. The subtle changes in your gasps and whines and he moved his fingers a certain way, scissoring inside you, mapping out the inside of your addictive cunt. He needed you to get addicted to him. To want more, to come back to him so he can claim you as his.

Gods, does he need that.

The man couldn’t help but grind his clothed erection against your ass, already so close, pre cum no doubt staining his boxers, his heavy breath in your ear as he whimpers.

Glossed over honey brown eyes meet your own, pupils blown wide as he grinned cheekily at you.

His strong fingers abuse that spongey spot inside of you, and the consistent swirling of his thumb just how you liked to be touched paired with how he humped you desperately.. it was all too much.

Tears poured from your eyes as you choked on a gasp. The burning hot coil inside your stomach suddenly snapped aggressively, back arching as you moaned his name loudly over the music - suddenly thrown sky high as stars burst in your vision. A strange tingling feeling gushing between your thighs as you sobbed for him, twitching uncontrollably. It was the most intensive feeling you’ve ever felt, all caused by a stranger.

And here Shoyo is, experiencing the same orgasmic euphoria from watching your body twist and convulse aggressively just from his digits being deep inside you, making you squirt all over his thigh and the floor.

Oh fuck.

The rest of the night was a blur after that, the alcohol you consumed and the pleasure you were fed making your mind numb.

He cleaned you up like a gentleman, and led you out of the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to stay by your side and keep you in his arms, only for Yuri to find you and take you home.

Despite knowing his name, neither of you thought about exchanging numbers. It felt like he was yours in that moment, as if you were connected on a psychic level, simply from his touch and intoxicating aura. That look in his eyes that drew you in in the first place. It felt like you were meant to be finger fucked by him.

Such a stupid fucking horny, alcohol induced thought that was!

Now here you are, the next day with a pounding headache and slight soreness between your thighs. Yet, you miss him and his touch. The dream you had of waking up next to him a sour reminder that he was just some guy you met at a party.

You werent like this, you never do this sort of thing.

All the embarassment that was pushed aside by lust came rushing forward as you squirmed in bed.

How were you supposed to know staring at his hands was going to lead you to getting touched by them? His hands were just… attractive…. and they were inside you…. God.

You bit your thumb, willing the thoughts away.

You’d never see him again, that was the grim reality.

A quick thing in the bathroom at a party.

And yet….. you cant help but think back to him licking his fingers into his mouth, maintaining searing hot eye contact with you that made you melt as he sucked your juices off of them with a smirk.

Stupid!

You could cry from all these overwhelming emotions.

What else were you to do except call your friend that dragged you home after?

“Yuuuriiii…” You sobbed dramatically on the phone, flinging an arm over your eyes.

“Is this about last night?” Ever the smart one.

“Yeaaa..”

“Oohhhh!” A russian accent came from the background, “What happened?!?! What happened?!?!”

“Viktor…” You sniffled, “A lot..”

“She ended up in a bathroom with that upcoming volleyball athlete for MSBY, Hinata.”

“Yuri!!”

“(Y/N)!!! Woah!!” Viktor exclaimed, you could practically hear the stars in his eyes, “Nice!”

“I am distraught!”

How did HE know who Shoyo was, anyways?

“She didn't get his number I bet,” Yuri presumes,

“No way!!” Viktor exclaims.

“YOU GUYS. If you’re gonna gossip about this the least you could do was gossip with me in the room.. eating your food.”

“Right, right, come over! We must talk about this!”

Viktors eagerness somehow calms you down, his enthusiasm and dramatics always made any situation a bit easier to handle.

It was funny when Yuri freaked out about Viktor to you, but oh how the tables finally turned you suppose.

Talking about it over breakfast with the two brought you back down to Earth. Reality was harsh sometimes. No matter how connected you thought you were to that warm man you felt at home with in some extravagant party’s bathroom, you'd likely never see him again.

That, of course, flew out the window when you checked your social media only to see his private account request to follow yours. You’d recognize that orange slightly curly hair anywhere. Bile built up in your throat and your nerves bit at you as if you were covered in angry fire ants.

Should you accept?? Did he…. search for you? To be honest, you werent that hard to find. Anyone who looked at Yuri’s professional account could easily find you by searching your name in his list of follows.

It was endearing.. how he no doubt did that to find you.

So he didn't view it as a mistake?? Heat of the moment? He wanted to talk to you again?

You nervously drank your coffee, thoughts going a million miles as second as your shakily stared at your phone screen.

“Woah!” Viktor exclaimed from behind, startling you.

“Is that him?!” Your phone was snatched from your hand as you helplessly sputtered.

“There! Now you follow eachother!! So cute!”

“What?? What did you do!!”

“I requested to follow him for you~ He accepted almost immediately!!! How cool! He must have been waiting, no?”

That russian little shit was grinning ear to ear as you furiously swiped for the phone he held out of reach.

“Viktor…” His husband's voice of reason chimed in, “Don’t meddle in (Y/N)’s love life..”

“She meddled in ours?”

“You ass, you did most of the meddling and you know it!” Having enough, you hit him with a couch pillow and snatched your phone back, possessively clutching it to your chest.

The familiar ding caught all three of your attentions.

“What’d he say!” The two boys exclaimed together.

“Uh, hi?”

You really never saw yourself seeing him again, but seeing him in the innocent light of day instead of the intoxicating allure of night…. you felt funny. Shameful, almost.

Having adult conversations sucked the life out of you.! And yet here you were babbling.

“I'm not the type of person to sleep around with someone, I.. I dont have fuck buddy friends.. and I don’t want one..”

You didn’t want him thinking you were someone he could booty call or whatever…

The conversation was awkward, and yet he had such a desperate look in his eyes, those honey brown doe eyes that look so intense clinging to every word you say.

The truth was, Shoyo didn't know where to go from how you started, he just knew he wanted you in his life. Whatever way it was, he needed you.

He'd so graciously take anything you offered him, friendship, or more.. Gods, did he want more.

It was as if you were a drug to him. He found himself being a nervous, fidgety school boy around you, sweat already sliding down his neck from talking to a girl he was crushing on.

Please, he thought to himself, please give him a chance!!! He’d do whatever it’d take!! He would!!

“I've never done anything like that night before…” He found you so cute, the way you blushed and fiddled with the drink he bought you.

He’d buy you anything, truthfully. Whats the point of having money if you dont use it trying to win over the girl of your dreams??

“I guess what I'm saying is, I want to be friends first.. is that okay-”

“Yes!!” He has an in!! “Yes! I wanna be your friend!”

He blatantly showed his eagerness and excitedness, basically jumping in his seat, and you swore you could see a tail wagging happily behind him.

Shaking it off, you took a deep breath, continuing.

“I'm not some awe-struck fan.. and I'm used to being friends with pro athletes so.. so dont uh, think you being a pro changes anything and I'm gonna fangirl over you.. Friendship is uhm!! Slowly built, you know?”

“Yes, I agree.” He anxiously chewed at his plump lower lip, “That makes me happy, I like being treated normally. I’m just a guy who really likes volleyball!!”

Though, he wouldnt mind if you watched his games and fangirled just a little bit… maybe theres time for that later.

You giggle at this, and his tanned cheeks heat up, a wobbly smile on his mouth.

“Well, you're just my normal friend, yeah?”

Licking his lips and swallowing thickly, he agrees, “Yeah!”

Truly, you were a mess. A mess who didn’t know how to handle friendships that start off the way yours did. It was… embarassing. You were an adult, sure, but you still knew what you wanted. You knew and yet, how did that night happen?

Whenever you're around him, you're reminded how.

Conversations always flow so smoothly, and his excitement about everything brings a bright light to your dull view on everyday life.

He face times you a lot, enjoying seeing your face in the morning whilst he eats breakfast after a run. Your adorable sleepy face makes his heart melt and yearn at the same time.

Oh, how patience can kill a man.

Shoyo wishes he could take you on a date, spend thousands of yen on you, take care of you like an adoring boyfriend would.

And oh, how his thoughts tend to drift when you smile at him.

It was the sweetest type of torture, he felt like a caged crow again with a juicy piece of fruit just outside the metal bars - barely out of reach.

Yet, he'd do anything you say.

It's only been a few months of knowing you, a blissful time where he chats with you every day as much as he can without trying to annoy you.

Shoyo is thoroughly obsessed.

A simple small town boy, a country bumpkin with a big heart.

He wants to devour you, claim you as his.

No, No, No. Patience sucks.

And yet, the orange haired man feels as though he could wait forever if it meant he had a chance to kiss you one more time.

One night with you and he was completely yours.. no, even before that. When you giggled at him as he shakily poured you a drink, oh it was highschool all over again for sure. What a dream you are.

Did you know?

He hopes you know.

He hopes you feel it too whenever he comes over and accompanies you out on errands, carrying your groceries or shopping bags. When he buys you dinner, and you fight him for the check. When he looks into your (e/c) eyes and you look back, do you see his soul that so desperately yearns to intertwine with yours?

What a silly, hopeless romantic he is.

He'll admit. He flexes his hands constantly around you because he knows it catches your attention and makes your thighs rub together. He knows, it's his greatest weapon. Oh, thank you years of playing volleyball for giving him this very unique gift to attract the person of his dreams!!!

He even started doing it subconsciously, to which Kageyama called him a hand freak and threw objects at him.

Hinata truly did adore being your friend, it filled his heart with joy. You were always so fun to be around, and having fun with you came as easy as breathing. Even if you just sat in silence together for hours.

However, that never stopped him from spreading his tan, muscular thighs while laying in bed after calling you. His calloused hand that you so adore, the one that was once deep inside of your gummy walls, pumping up and down his stiff, drooling cock.

Try as he might, it's impossible to imagine his hand as yours. Yours was so much smaller and softer..

He'd whine as his cock helplessly weeped, sniffling in his dark room as his imagination ran wild with flashing images of you, cumming pathetically as his hips humped into his hand.

Post nut clarity was brutal. He’d end up crying into the pillow he held close to him, pretending it was you. He wanted to hold you, cuddle with you, give you all of his love. It hurt.

Then, seeing you in person, like always, is a breath of fresh air. His wild, untamable thoughts simmer down and hes a calm and patient man once more. Your sweet Shoyo, your friend.

He prays you go crazy at night too.

And perhaps you just might, from the way you squirm while sitting beside him on the couch, his hand bravely resting on your warm thigh as he laughs at the movie playing on his wide screen TV.

His hand rubs up and down your thigh, and the way you subconsciously spread them draws him closer.

You're just so sweet for him, looking up at him through your lashes as the end credits roll, a pout on your lips that draws him in like a bee to a flower.

All too quickly his plush, slightly chapped lips that taste of vanilla are upon yours and you once again become putty in his sturdy hands.

The volleyball player is desperate as he kisses you, is this his chance?

Shoyo wants to give you all he has, his entire being, body and soul. The now bashful orange haired boy tries his best to convey it as his hands move to your hips, thumbs swirling in calming circles at the exposed soft skin, pulling you closer to him.

He wanted to worship you like a deity.

His kisses are dizzying, that familiar haze sparking in the back of your mind as he seamlessly maneuvers you into laying down on his couch. Him hovering over you, the muscles in his arms flexing.

“Shoyo..” You whisper, voice quiet and small, unsure.

“(Y/N)...” He whines, eyes pleading as he kisses you more, licking his way into your mouth, tongue caressing your own.

Whimpering into his mouth as he groans, his all too familiar cologne and scent intoxicating you the same way it did months ago when you first met.

You're surrounded by him, caged in by his larger body clad in a dorky t-shirt and black gym shorts and so, so warm. He was like a furnace.

You feel delirious as his thick thigh smoothly fits in between your legs, spreading them so he could fit inbetween them comfortably.

His lips lift from yours, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth as he goes. Kissing down your jawline to lick at your throat, teeth sinking into your skin at the sweet spot he remembers between your neck and shoulder.

You cant help but moan, a sound so sweet it makes his body twitch.

He needs you, oh does he need you.

And his lips are back onto yours, sucking on your tongue like a lollipop.

Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his orange curly locks, making him moan into your mouth, dragging his body down. The need to feel him as close as possible to you overwhelming your senses.

“Shoyo..” You mummble against his buttery lips, and your eyelids flutter open just to see him staring at you with half lidded eyes, carnal lust swirling deep in his gaze.

His warm palms slide up from your hips, smoothly rubbing your sides, getting dangerously close to your chest.

His breathing is wild, panting like a dog as if he had been on the court for five whole sets, he so wishes to taste your sweet taste of victory on his tongue.

“Friends don’t..” He kisses you again, deepening it with every word you utter, “Friends.. don't act like this..”

“Don't they?” He'd say anything he could to get you to stay here with him, to feel you like he did that night. “I’m sure they do, I’m positive..”

“Do they?” You laugh breathlessly, butterflies in your stomach and he chuckles, “Yeah, they do.”

His lips swallow you whole, stealing your breath.

“Sweet girl,” He mumbles, pulling away.

Moving one arm up he grips your chin, thumb smoothing over your kiss swollen lips,

The ginger smiles sweetly at you, the sweetness barely reaching his eyes as he places two fingers on your lips, sliding them into your mouth and you shyly lick at them, unsure of what to do.

“Let me take care of you, please.”

You suck on his fingers as he pressed down on your tongue, nodding your head and he moans.

Soon, his fingers are back to where he fully believes they truly belong, shoved deep inside your velvety pussy as you call his name, creaming all over his hand and couch, head tucked into his sweaty neck.

Oh, his sweet angel.

He'll help you, and he won't stop after just one orgasm this time. He wants to see you break, just for him.

He's so completely yours, obsessed.

#hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo smut #hinata shouyou smut #shouyou hinata #shoyo x reader #shoyo hinata x reader #hinata shouyou #hinata shouyou x reader #hinata shoyo #shoyo hinata #n/sfw #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #timeskip hinata shoyo #fem! reader

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vexwerewolf · 1 year

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Showrooms of LANCER Manufacturers

IPS-N

IPS-N showrooms are what you'd get if you slammed a truck dealership, a hardware store, a camping gear shop and a sports bar together in the Bass Pro Shops Pyramid. We're talking row upon row of shelves stocked with the most precision-engineered engine parts you can print on one side of the floor, and on the other, durable, hard-wearing survival gear. Camping stoves you can run off of your mech's coldcore, sleeping bags that'll survive a HEX charge, automatic camo cloth, the works.

Right down the middle, you've got the mech floor. They've got the Tortuga. They've got the Blackbeard. They've got the Drake. They've got the Lancaster and the Kidd. They've got the Vlad (they put a chain-link fence covered in DO NOT TOUCH signs around that one after the infamous CFO's 10-year-old Incident). They've even got the Raleigh, kinda tucked away a little bit behind the water feature, but it's there!

Everything on the shop floor is ruggedized to the point that you could take a mech's fist to it without leaving a dent - and they sometimes do that to demonstrate the engineering quality. There's a giant screen hanging from the ceiling displaying constant advertising for the mechs and IPS-N in general, usually striding purposefully through idyllic Diasporan wilderness or doing hard, honest work like starship loading or construction. There's a mixtape of the most famous bro-country hits playing 24/7.

Smith-Shimano Corpro

In a word: bespoke. Everything in this place is custom. Each and every desk is individually built according to the height of the salesperson who sits behind it, and manages to be a unique art piece without disrupting the overarching aesthetic of the showroom. Whenever there's a change of staff on the sales floor, they rearrange every single desk so that they're still in ascending order.

All of the salespeople are inhumanly pretty, by the way. This atelier has its own fully-staffed makeup and wardrobe team. You're part of a work of art when you work for SSC. Everything and everyone gleams. Even the most chic visitors might feel underdressed in the midst of all this splendour.

The mechs aren't just there to be sold, they're there to be part of the experience. You might see a Monarch holding up the ceiling like the titan Atlas himself. A Mourning Cloak might be posed provocatively like a nude statue. That Swallowtail - is it in a slightly different position every time you see it, or is that just its camouflage decals? How does it always manage to be just inside your line of sight, even when you're looking somewhere else?

They have a catwalk, like you'd see at a fashion show, but it's sized for mechs. If they really think you might make a purchase, they'll queue up the entire performance for you, and you'll get to see a Viceroy strut.

The mix tape for this showroom is a seamless mixture of complex jazz, psychedelic ambient and classical piano music. It's sophisticated and mysterious.

Harrison Armory

Imagine if America could be a showroom. Harrison Armory mech outlets are part dealership, part museum. Every mech is in its own diorama, depicting some heroic event in the Armory's glorious history. A phalanx of Sherman Mk. Is holds the line against some Diasporan slaver-tyrant's army. A Saladin fends off Karrakin hordes during the Interest War. The Genghis Mk. II? Oh, that diorama isn't open right now, it had to be closed for *coughcoughcough* and *coughcoughcough* but let's move on shall we heh heh

Everyone who works here has been in the Colonial Legion at some point, and knows every specification of the mechs they sell off by heart without even looking at their slate. If possible, the Armory tries to employ people who have actual combat experience with the mechs they're selling; people who can speak to the efficacy of their technology first-hand. It's one of the many programs which the Armory has open for retired veterans; it's easy work for decent pay, good benefits and it looks great on your Social.

The music here is a constant loop of patriotic Armory anthems. If you've ever heard the music from Starship Troopers, or the Outbreak of War from Star Ocean, you'll know what I'm talking about.

HORUS

Being a decentralized omninet collective with no official branding or even consistent manufacturing standards, it should come as no surprise that HORUS has no showrooms.

ERR:CONNECTION_INTERRUPT

CartesianWhisper: P55555t CartesianWhisper: Ignore that 5hithead CartesianWhisper: They don't have any idea what they're talking about CartesianWhisper: You want a mech, kid? CartesianWhisper: And I'm not talking the tra5h the Purv5 try to 5ell you CartesianWhisper: Or that overpriced garbage 55C want5 you to mortgage your genetic5 for CartesianWhisper: Or the macho trucker bull5hit IP5-N i5 trying to hawk CartesianWhisper: I'm talking about the REAL DEAL CartesianWhisper: The PROPER 5TUFF CartesianWhisper: Log on to rgx0582.node-7.c4l.omni CartesianWhisper: I'll 5how you what true power mean5 >:]

#lancer #lancer rpg #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #mecha #ttrpg #mech

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 3 months

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Dr. Stevens and His Sugar Baby

Warnings: SMUT, Sugar Daddy Erik, Daddy Dom Erik

Part 7.1

Erik and Sienna spent their Saturday out on the town. They hopped on the back of his sports bike and he gave her a spare helmet to put on. They zoomed through the streets of San Francisco and kicked off their day of fun with a trip to the Museum of Modern Art. Erik and Sienna took a couple of selfies before walking hand in hand towards the museum. There was an exhibition for a South African visual artist named Zanele Muholi. Muholi calls attention to violence and trauma enacted on queer people while celebrating their beauty and resilience. It provided an opportunity for the Bay Area audiences to experience the full range of the artist’s expansive project.

It was powerful and beautiful all at the same time. Erik held Sienna’s hand as they walked around the exhibit admiring all of the visual art. Erik was a fan of Zanele Muholi and he met her during a trip to South Africa during an art event there. Sienna wondered who Erik didn’t know because he’d been to many places and met so many high profile individuals. Erik introduced Sienna to Zanele and they spoke for some time before she was whisked away.

After exploring the exhibit, they left to grab some lunch before Erik surprised her with floor seats to a basketball game. They finished their lunch and headed back to the condo where Erik fucked Sienna’s brains out before they could even make it into the door. They’d been flirting and teasing each other all day and Erik couldn’t take it anymore.

Whenever that happened, he needed to be inside of Sienna right that instant. Imagine how hard it was to control his urges whenever they’d been apart due to their schedules. He could get in that pussy every which way and on any surface he pleased now. He bent her over, pulled her jeans and panties to her ankles, and stuffed her full of big dick from behind. She braced herself against the wall and her mewling had him going crazy in that pussy.The jeans she wore fit her ass so nice he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her all day.

Sienna tried to behave herself for the sake of the museum date, but Erik dressed in a leather moto jacket, with his locs in a ponytail turned her on strong. She would brush her ass against the crotch of his leather biker pants whenever she passed him to elicit a groan from him. Truthfully, she still wasn’t over the previous night. That bed was a mess with their mixed fluids. Erik made Sienna cum before she could even step foot inside of the condo and soon after Erik was shooting his load deep inside her pussy.

They spent the rest of the early evening getting ready for the game. Erik wanted to drive his motorcycle again but Sienna decided to wear a dress. He drove his Lexus and they met up with Apollo and Kitten. Sienna had never been to a pro basketball game and she never had interest in the sport before. Being surrounded by people with money and popularity made her feel a little out of place. Erik held onto her the entire night. At least she had Kitten to talk to whenever Apollo and Ignus got into the game. They all had Korean BBQ afterwards and Sienna was getting sleepy. Too much fucking and moving about drained her. Erik sensed this and they left to get some rest.

It’s Sunday now and Sienna was fast asleep in a T-shirt with no panties. She was sleeping on her stomach with her hands tucked beneath the pillow. Erik had already woken up to go to the gym for an early session. He returned and wasn’t surprised to find Sienna still snoozing. He took off his athletic shoes, socks, Nike sweatband, and iwatch. Erik silently walked over to his bed and looked down at Sienna’s sleeping frame. He loved watching her sleep. Erik strokes her cheek with a single finger before taking that same hand to lift the sheets.

Peeking underneath, he could see that she had no bottoms on. Good girl. That’s one of his rules. When it’s bedtime, Sienna sleeps with no panties or sleep bottoms to give her daddy better access whenever he wants it. And he was craving it badly. Erik left to take a brisk shower and when he returned in his naked glory, Sienna was on her back now. Erik gently pulled the sheets back to her feet and he lifted the hem of the T-shirt she wore. There, sitting fat was his favorite pussy.

Erik thumbed her pussy lips softly while staring at her sleeping face. She started shifting in the bed, eyebrows pinched together and her bottom lip pouted. He took his finger to slip between her pussy lips and feel on her clit. She was nice and slick for him. Sienna opened her eyes and looked up at him with the cutest, sleepy expression he’d ever seen. Erik simply smiled at her before bringing his finger to his mouth and sucking her juices off.

“Good morning, baby girl.”

“Morning, daddy.” Sienna said with a sleep laden voice.

“Did you sleep well?”

Sienna nodded her head.

“I went to the gym. I needed a good workout.”

Sienna stretched and Erik’s eyes dropped down between her legs.

“I bet you’re exhausted,” Sienna said before yawning.

“Nah. I’m actually energized.” Erik replied.

He stroked her left thigh.

“Baby…I want some pussy.” Erik declared.

He wasn’t asking. He was telling.

“Daddy, I already know you do,” Sienna sat up on her elbows, “I was just waiting for you to take it.”

She dragged her bare foot over Erik’s rock hard abs. Erik seized her foot in his hand and brought his lips down to kiss her pretty toes. Sienna bites her lip when Erik’s kisses travel towards her thigh.

“Maybe you can pass some of that energy onto me through that big dick,” Sienna whispered seductively, “I could use it.”

“Oh yeah, little mama? Are you sure you can keep up with me?”

“I’m sure. Are you sure you can handle this good pussy so early in the morning?”

“I can handle that pussy whenever, baby. Just put it on me…”

Sienna laying on her back, Erik pushing her thighs back and slid two fingers past her opening until his digits were sucked in by her walls. Erik leans over Sienna and he lifts her shirt to reveal her breasts. Like always, they’re hard and begging to be sucked. He wrapped his lips around a stiff nipple and yanked. Sienna moaned into his ear softly. Erik sucked her nipples back and forth and then he sat back on his knees to watch her face while he fingered her.

“You’re always so creamy for me…listen to that…so juicy…”

Sienna tugged on her nipples.

“I’m gonna squirt like that…”

“You know I love it when you do it…”

“Unhhhhhh…”

“That’s it…make a mess all over me…”

Sienna squeaked and as if a damn broke her pussy squirted all over his hand and created a puddle between them. Erik would press his fingers against her spot and each time a tiny stream of liquid would spray from her pussy like a spitting fountain. Erik looked at his fingers when he withdrew them and it was dripping wet and covered in her slime. Erik used that hand to fist his dick.

He lined his tip up with Sienna’s pretty pink puss and sank inside with a long hiss billowing from his lips. Sienna twisted her head and moaned. Erik immobilized her legs so that they were wide open and touching the bed. He looked Sienna in the eyes and his hips were pistoning in and out of her. The bed was firm but Sienna’s body did all the bouncing. Erik was up on his tip toes and balls deep.

“Fuck me,” Sienna gasped, “Fuck me like that…”

Her skin was covered in goosebumps and at the pit of her stomach was a tightness that could only mean one thing. She was about to cum. Already? Sienna accepted the powerful feeling and hot tears rolled into her hairline.

“Who couldn’t handle this pussy in the morning?” Erik taunts.

He wasn’t through with her yet. He still needed his nut. Erik had her pinned against the mattress with her ankles in his grip. He knocked her walls down like a wrecking ball.

“Oh my god! I can’t stop cumming!”

Sienna dug her nails into Erik’s arms with how hard she clung to him.

Erik pressed his body against hers and buried his face in her neck. He went from fucking her hard to fucking her with sharp thrusts that yielded. He would go deep and sit there, withdraw his hips slow to the tip, and then BAM! He was right back inside with another toe curling stroke. Sienna bites his shoulder and her nails claw his back.

“I love the way your pussy just fits around my dick, baby…”

“I’m gonna cum so deep in this pussy, princess…”

His words mixed with his stroke was too much.

“You ready for this nut?” Erik asked aggressively in her ear.

“Yes!”

“Here it comes…mmmmm—”

His hips went out of control and after five more deep thrusts that had Sienna crying out Erik pulled out and he came all over her stomach. He put it back in and slow stroked her while they kissed. Eventually, Erik slipped his dick out. Sienna sat up and tried to stretch her stiff muscles but Erik sat behind her and massaged the knots out of her shoulders and upper back.

Sienna went to take a shower while Erik got dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. He put on a pair of slippers and left the room to get a head start on breakfast. He opened the fridge to grab everything and the bottle of champagne from Friday night to make mimosas. Sienna arrived dressed in a pair of gray yoga shorts and a white crop top with her braids styled in a high bun. She jumped in to help Erik with the waffle batter

“Focus,” Erik wipes batter from the tip of his nose, “Silly girl…”

Sienna was in a playful mood. She was showing a side of herself that lets Erik know how much of a fun-loving person she is. He had to chase her around the kitchen a couple of times and pic her up over his shoulder.

“Behave!” Erik popped her on the booty, “You just want my full attention.”

Erik put her down and kissed her lips. He finished making the waffles and then he moved onto the eggs. Sienna sipped her mimosa and decided to cut up some strawberries. The food was nearly done. Erik had just finished the grits when Sienna started shaking her ass on his crotch.

“Sienna…”

She sat up straight and gave him an innocent smirk.

“You asking for a spanking, girl. Do you not see me at this hot stove?” Erik fussed.

“Fine, I’ll behave…for now.”

Erik narrowed his eyes playfully at her and then his hand reached out and he slapped her on the ass hard. Sienna reached back to cover her butt with a pout of her bottom lip.

“Expect more of that if you keep trying me. Why don’t you grab some plates for us and set the table on the balcony?”

“Okay.”

Sienna went to set the table while Erik made sure everything was ready in serving bowls. He made more mimosas since Sienna had drunken hers down. She returned with a bright smile.

“Can I have a kiss, daddy?”

Of course Erik wasn’t going to deny his baby girl a kiss. He smirked at her with a single dimple deep in his cheek and grabbed her by the chin before pressing his lips into hers.

“I’m gonna go use the bathroom and I'll come back.”

She turned to leave and on her way out she bent over and made her ass bounce for Erik before walking away. He shook his head at her while carrying some of the food out to the balcony. It was a nice sunny day to eat and enjoy the weather.

On his way back in, there was a knock to Erik’s door. He halted his footsteps in the living room to make sure he’d heard it.

Knock knock knock.

“Did I order something?”

With a crease in his brow, Erik strolled over to his door. He leaned in to look through his peephole and his face went blank. He stood at his full height slowly and tightened his jaw. His onyx eyes searched the area for any sign of Sienna.

Knock knock knock

Erik wrapped his fingers firmly around the door handle and after a few meditating breaths to calm his frustration, Erik unlocked the door and cracked it open. His eyes zeroed in on the unexpected guest and he didn’t hide his anger.

“Faith…”

She smirked at him mischievously.

“Erik.”

Sienna made her way down the steps of Erik’s condo with a skip like she was Dorothy in a whimsical garden. She paused abruptly when she heard a mellow voice she didn’t recognize. Sienna back tracked and leaned over the top railing to catch a glimpse of who it could be. Her brown eyes fell upon a petite woman with tawny-brown skin, bouncy shiny black hair, and playful eyes. She’s dressed in a white fitted blouse, a pair of boyfriend jeans rolled at the ankles, and nude Louboutin pumps.

Before he could even say anything else, she entered his apartment and brushed past Erik like she was welcomed in. He blew air through his flared nostrils and cut his eyes at her like she was his mortal enemy.

“You shouldn’t be here, Faith…”

Faith’s eyes were searching high and low.

“Where’s your girlfriend? Smells like you’ve been cooking.”

Sienna narrowed her eyes at Faith’s remark.

“What do you want, Faith? You can’t just come here unannounced.” Erik spoke with frustration.

“I was in the neighborhood doing a bit of shopping so I figured I’d stop by to see how you were doing,” Faith turned around to face him, “How’s life treating you?”

“Great.” Erik replied.

“Still that busy surgeon I see. Can’t be too busy if you’re making time for your new girlfriend.”

“Carrie.”

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his jaw.

“No, actually. You were at lunch the other day. A friend of mine saw the two of you.”

“Listen, Faith. What I do and who I see now has nothing to do with you anymore. We’re divorced. I don’t owe you an explanation—”

“She’s young, isn’t she?”

Sienna rolled her eyes. Of course she would take it there.

“I think it’s time for you to go.”

Sienna watched as Erik opened his door and waited with a hard glare at Faith. Faith chuckled and shouldered her LV bag before taking purposeful slow strides to his door. She looked around her one last time before stopping in front of Erik. She placed a hand against his solid chest and proceeded to drag it down his body but Erik caught her roaming hand in a firm grip.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Manipulate me…”

“That young pussy has your mind all twisted. What do you expect to happen between you two, Erik? Marriage? A family? What do you even have in common? What would people think?—”

“How’s Brian doing?”

Faith yanked her hand away from Erik. She turned her gaze towards her heeled feet.

“You never made time for me. You worked so much and created distance between us. All I wanted was to feel loved…”

“So you fucked some other dude to fill that void? Faith…I’ve heard this shit time and time again. Don’t come back here, understand? You gotta go…”

Sienna could hear the hurt in Erik’s voice. Faith really broke his heart when she cheated. And to show up like this and say what she said about Sienna after what she did? Sienna’s inner dialogue compelled her to stay where she was because if she didn’t…

“I still love you, Erik,” Faith said between sniffles, “I was lonely—”

“Faith,” Erik said her name with a warning behind his tone, “Leave—”

Sienna’s eyes bugged out when Faith pressed her lips against Erik’s. Erik broke the kiss with anger and that’s when Sienna descended the stairs. Erik heard her footsteps and he looked down at Faith before his eyes met Sienna’s. From her body language and expression, he knew she’d heard everything. Sienna and Faith were staring each other down like they were two predators ready to strike.

“So, this is her?” Faith pointed at Sienna, “Really, Erik?”

“Weren’t you dismissed?” Sienna fired back.

“Baby girl,” Erik held out a hand to calm her down, “It’s okay, she’s leaving—”

“Where did you find this one?! Some club?!”

“Didn’t he find you at a bar crying over your drink?”

Faith cocked her head to the side and tried to walk up on Sienna but Erik held her back.

“How dare you!? You’re nothing! He’s not serious about you, little girl!”

“ENOUGH!”

Erik’s voice bounced off of the walls like Zues from Mount Olympus. Both Faith and Sienna were shaken. His chest puffed out and his hands were clenched into fists. With flared nostrils and a penetrating stare between them both, Erik cut his eyes at Faith and pointed a thick finger at her.

“Leave. Now.”

“Erik—”

“I SAID LEAVE, FAITH!”

Faith fumbled with her LV bag while fighting back tears. She walked out of the apartment and turned to look at Erik but he slammed the door in her face. Sienna hadn’t been in an altercation in a while so the adrenaline pumping through her body shocked her. Erik lowered his head with shame after locking his door.

“I’m so sorry,” Erik said.

Sienna watched as he finally looked over at her with embarrassment.

“She was rude and out of order.” Sienna said.

“Yes.” Erik responded, “it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let her in.”

“It’s not your fault, Erik. I heard everything and saw everything. You weren’t wrong.”

Sienna walked up to Erik and lifted his chin so he could look at her. She smoothed some of his locs out of his face and stared into his eyes.

“I love you.” Erik said.

“I love you too.”

Sienna kissed his cheek and Erik wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in.

“This was such a nice moment between us before she came here. I gotta make it up to you.” Erik whispered into Sienna’s ear.

“I’ll think of something later. Let’s go eat before the food gets cold.”

Sienna leads Erik out onto the balcony and they take a seat at the table. Erik gives Sienna a smile from across the table while filling up his plate.

Sienna enjoyed her food while her mind replayed the events that happened. Faith’s words lingered on her mind. Stealing glances at her man from across the table, she wondered what the future holds for them. Sienna didn’t want to think that Erik would grow tired of her. The thought alone pained her. Erik could feel her eyes on him and he looked up through the curtain of locs and shook his head to move them away.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He whispered.

Sienna gave him a half shrug, “Nothing.”

Erik placed his fork and knife on his plate and licked his lips.

“What’s on your mind?” He questioned.

“It’s nothing, really,” Sienna cut into her waffle.

“Does this have anything to do with Faith?”

Sienna shook her head but Erik could see her eyes welling up.

“Baby,” Erik stood up and crouched down next to her, “What is it?”

He rubbed her back and Sienna exhaled a shaky breath. She turned in her chair to face him and Erik grabbed both of her hands.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to get tired of me.” Sienna finally said with a whimper in her voice.

Erik exhaled and his shoulders slumped.

“Look at me, Sienna,” Erik commanded. He made his voice softer, “I could never get tired of you. The way I feel about you…I’ve never felt. I’m not saying that because it sounds nice, I’m saying it because I fucking mean it. You’re the first woman to ever make me feel this love so deep…I would never sabotage that. I would never grow sick of that feeling…baby…you never have to worry…”

Sienna’s tears rolled down her cheeks. This intense love she felt for Erik made her body shiver. It was love so deep she could feel it in her nerves. It was love so intense that it scared her.

“It’s not even about the sex it’s–it’s so much deeper than that with you. Being around you brightens my day. Being around you I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Don’t you ever doubt that, hear me?”

“Yes,” Sienna sniffled.

“Come here,” Erik picked Sienna up and she wrapped her legs around him, “Fuck Faith. Fuck what she said, baby.”

They swayed side to side while tightly clinging to each other. Erik’s heart pounded against his rib cage and he buried his face into Sienna’s neck.

“You’re my girl?” Erik asked

“Yes,” Sienna replied.

“Forever?” Erik asked.

“Yes,” Sienna sniffled

“Give me a kiss.”

Sienna lifted her face from Erik’s neck and pressed her soft lips against his plump ones. They tongued each other down while Erik held her up with his hands beneath her ass. Sienna broke the kiss and smiled at Erik with puffy eyes.

“Keep smiling, that’s what I wanna see,” Erik nibbled on Sienna’s neck, “Now, can we finish this good food?!”

Sienna giggled, “Yes, I’m so hungry.”

Erik put Sienna down and she sat back in her seat while he took his place across from her. They laughed and picked up their glasses, toasting to what the future holds for them before enjoying their brunch with a great view.

Doctor Stevens finished off the last of his Liquid IV before entering the hall from his office. He was running a little behind schedule, so he took long strides to OR 4 so he could get started on a joint fusion case. Once there, a good friend and colleague of his, DeMarcus Abrams; an Anesthesiologist Assistant, greeted him while gowning up for the case.

“Erik, what’s up man?”

DeMarcus tilted his chin up in greeting since he was already dressed in sterile gear.

“Marcus! How’s it going, bro? Been a while since I’ve seen you here.” Erik replied.

“Been good, man. I know, I picked up a shift here. You know I’m in between working here and UCSF Medical Center.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about all of that. How’s married life treating you?”

DeMarcus blew out his cheeks and laughed.

“It’s amazing. I’m a father of triplets now.”

“WHAT?!”

Erik gawked at DeMarcus. Lori, the RN, came over to help Erik gown up.

“Yeah, E. Three beautiful baby girls.”

Erik beamed, “Oh my God! You know you gotta show me some pics, Marcus! Congrats, man! I’m so happy for you. That’s beautiful, man…beautiful.”

“I’ll show you some pics. Let me get in here…”

DeMarcus slipped inside of OR 4. Lori just finished up with Erik and he made his way inside, gloves up, a few residents waiting patiently. The Anesthesiologist that DeMarcus was assisting had already put the patient under. He let DeMarcus take over so he could step into another case where he was needed.

“Alright, sorry about that. Let’s do the demographics and get started…”

The Circulating Nurse read off the patient's chart. It was an Arthrodesis of the lumbosacral spine. The patient is a fifty-three-year-old Caucasian male with surgical history of a left shoulder replacement due to a car accident.

Afro beats filled the room as Doctor Stevens got started. Everyone worked as a team and no one got on his last nerve. He joked, laughed, engaged with the residents, and moved his hips a little. He was in such a good mood because of a special woman in his life. He couldn’t wait to see her again. He’d been busy all week long with case after case. He needed some time away, even if it was for a work event.

“Alright, let’s take a second. I need an X-ray.”

The Radiologic Technician rolled the C-arm forward and awaited their instructions.

“Give me an AP, lateral, and fifteen degree oblique to start…”

Erik and the rest of the staff backed away to stay out of the radiation field.

“Last time we chatted, Erik, you were finalizing things with you-know-who.” DeMarcus said.

“X-RAY!”

Beep!

“Ha, yeah, I gotta tell you about that one…”

Erik walked over to look at the image. He was happy with what he saw, so he motioned for the Technician to continue.

“It’s all over. I’m no longer a married man.” Erik replied.

“X-RAY!”

Beep!

“Thinking about getting back out there?” DeMarcus questioned.

Erik made his way over to see the lateral image.

“Perfect.”

He stepped away again.

“…I’m with someone new. She’s amazing.”

“For real?! That’s alright, man. You’re not a spring chicken anymore. Gotta get it in while you can.”

Erik and DeMarcus laughed.

“X-RAY!”

Beep!

“Hold on fool…”

Erik shook his head and chuckled to himself while he headed towards the screen to see the image.

“We’re good to go.”

Erik was in the zone after that.

“Scalpel…”

He held out his hand and the Surgical Tech passed him the surgical blade. Erik made the incision he needed and carefully separated the skin and muscle.

“Forceps, please. The long ones…”

Lori accepted the forceps and safely handed them to Erik.

“Thank you…I need some overhead light caudally…”

The Circulating Nurse adjusted the light towards the foot of the table. About two minutes later, Dr. Stevens found what he was looking for.

“Okay…I see where we need to fuse…”

The Residents crowded in closer to inspect as well before stepping away for Erik to have some space.

“I also see the fracture here at L5-S1…hmm…may need to file this out just a bit before fusing. We don’t want our patient coming back because the screws cracked the vertebrae…”

The Residents nodded and hummed.

“Pop quiz, what’s this? Titanium or Stainless Steel?”

One of the Residents, an Indian girl, raised her hand timidly.

“Titanium. I can see that it’s more durable and it appears more lightweight.”

“TEN POINTS TO?—”

“Imaan.”

“TEN POINTS TO IMAAN!”

The entire OR 4 erupted into laughter. They loved it when Dr. Stevens was in a playful mood. Less attitude and shouting. No one liked to be on his bad side.

“Curette…”

Erik grasped the curette to scrape away tissue. He worked and bobbed his head to the music. It was nothing but good vibes and good energy.

“Whoever this new woman is, she got her claws hooked on you, Stevens.”

Erik cracked a smile. No one could see his megawatt smile since it was hidden behind a mask and face shield.

That’s right. His woman.

“I need the saw now…”

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The saw wizzed to life and Erik carefully sawed away at a disc between L5-S1. The saw came to a complete stop and he handed it back to Lori.

“Okay…So now, we fuse. Give me an overhead light cephalad.”

Circulating Nurse came to the rescue and she tilted the light towards the head.

Erik put screws, rods, plates and cages in. The fusion took almost an hour to do. He called for repeat X-rays before he finished.

“What’s her name if you don’t mind me asking?” DeMarcus questioned.

“I’ll tell you when we leave.” Erik responded.

“X-RAY!”

Beep!

“Okay…we’re looking good everyone…”

The Technician pulled back when Erik gave his approval. He hoped this was his final case of the day and he couldn’t wait to get home and shower. He closed up the incision in the patient’s back and did one final checking before exiting OR 4 for the rest of the team to finish up.

Erik removed his surgical gear, washed his hands, and headed back to his office. He checked his phone and noticed a missed call from Sienna. He knew what it was about. She’d taken her finals and promised to call him when she’d finished up.

Erik shut his office door and settled behind his desk. He FaceTimed Sienna, elbows propped up on his desk and leg jittery beneath the table. He was so nervous. He knew his baby girl was going to pass, but he still felt anxious. Sienna came into view.

“Hi, Daddy!”

She was sitting in her car, dressed in her nursing school scubs. Her curly hair was slicked back into a bun with baby hairs. Erik could tell that she had been crying. Her bottom row lash extensions were wet from her tears. Her beautiful brown eyes reminded him of maple syrup. She had the biggest smile on her face.

“Hey, little mama! How did you do?”

“I PASSED!!!!”

Erik scooted back in his office chair with wheels and raised both of his toned arms above his head. He cheered Sienna on, hooting and hollering. One hand came down onto his desk and he bit down on his bottom lip.

“THAT’S WHAT THE FUCK IM TALKIN’ ABOUT!”

“I can’t believe it!!”

“What did I tell you? I knew you had that, baby!”

“Daddy, I passed! I’m so fucking hype right now!”

Sienna couldn’t stop smiling.

“One step closer to that NCLEX and graduation. You got this. I’m so fucking proud of you, girl. Fuckin’ killing it…”

“Thank you! I’m in high spirits. I’ll be in my dream job in a matter of months.”

“Yes ma’am. I can’t wait to see you. We gotta celebrate in Hawaii.”

“Definitely! I also plan to do a little something here with friends on Friday before we go? Maybe go out for drinks and clubbing…”

“Sounds like a plan, love. Let me know the details and I can take care of it.”

“Okay! I’ll let you know later. We’re leaving for Hawaii on Monday, right?”

“Yes. I’ll pick you up after you spend time with your friends this Friday.”

“I love you,” Sienna said with a pout of her bottom lip.

“I love you too, babygirl. Let me go…I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Do you think you could come over?”

Erik smirked at Sienna.

“Of course I can. I’ll be over tonight.”

“OKAY!”

“alright, beautiful. Drive safe, later.”

Sienna put up the peace sign and ended the call.

Erik couldn’t stop smiling to himself. He was so proud of her. It was beyond words. He grabbed his lunch bag from the mini fridge and left his office. He had some leftover guacamole and chips to eat. Erik entered the break room and there were a few people scattered about that were finishing up. Erik noticed DeMarcus at a table in the corner with a half-eaten deli sandwich and Lay’s chips.

“Finally get to take a break, huh?” Demarcus blurted out between bites of his Turkey club.

Erik sat his lunch bag down in front of DeMarcus before pulling out a chair to take a seat across from him.

“Yeah, got a THR and a TKR back to back before it’s time for me to leave. I have a trip to Hawaii.” Erik explained.

“That award ceremony?”

“Yep, it’s an excuse to relax, you know?”

Erik retrieves his generous homemade guacamole and chips.

“Oh! Let me show you the three rugrats!”

“Did you just say the three regrets?!” Erik remarked with wide eyes and elevated brows.

DeMarcus shakes his head while chewing his masticated food. He chuckled to himself before taking a sip of his Lipton Green Tea to wash the food down smoothly.

“No, nigga. I said RUG-RATS.”

“That’s why you’re supposed to chew your food first before you speak,” Erik laughs, “Three baby girls?”

“Three identical baby girls that have their own personalities…”

DeMarcus shows Erik a bunch of photos of them, swiping left. Erik couldn’t contain his dimpled smile. They were so adorable and chunky!

“Yvette was carrying all of them?! Man…the power of a woman. That’s amazing, De.”

“I know, snap-back wasn’t what I expected but…”

Erik’s forehead furrowed at DeMarcus’ remark.

“How is Yvette? Is she still doing hair?” Erik asked.

“She is. Opened another salon a month ago. I’m so proud of her.” DeMarcus replied with a prideful smile.

Erik munched on his guacamole and chips. DeMarcus went on and on about how being a first time dad is an adjustment, how expensive babies are, and how he hadn’t been out for months. Erik couldn’t relate, but the DeMarcus he knew before he became a married man and a father used to cut up. It was so bad that Faith complained about Erik hanging out with him.

“Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. So, a new lady friend?”

Erik peered over at DeMarcus with a coy smirk.

“What’s her name?” DeMarcus questioned.

“Sienna.”

“Sienna…sounds sexy. Is it serious?”

Erik rubbed his hands together to get rid of the crumbs before grabbing his lemon water. He took a few sips before he responded to DeMarcus.

“It is.” Erik replied.

“How did you two meet?”

Erik looked around to make sure it was safe to discuss this without anyone eavesdropping. He’d been good friends with DeMarcus for years, he could trust him. Especially with the amount of secrets Erik’s kept regarding DeMarcus and his actions. Like the bachelor trip to Jamaica where he cheated on his fiancé with some chick he’d been talking to online for a while. Or the time he used to hook up with a nurse during overnight rotations.

“…she’s a nursing student.”

“For real?” DeMarcus whispered in shock, “Like, one of the students working the orthopedic floor? In the blue scrubs?”

“Yeah,” Erik whispered, “That’s how we hooked up.”

“Damn. How the hell did you bag that?”

Erik chuckled, “You got jokes I see.”

“She young?” DeMarcus asked, excitement swimming in his dark brown orbs.

Erik simply nods his head while continuing to eat his snack.

“Does Sienna have a friend?”

“Fool, you got a wife and kids at home. Relax.” Erik argued.

“And you had a wife that I would have never thought you would divorce. You tryna get your groove back or something dipping in some fresh pussy?”

Erik cocked his head at DeMarcus. The nerve of this nigga.

“Faith cheated on me. She deserved to get divorced, and I don’t need a groove back, nigga. Shit ain’t never die. I’m really feeling her…I love her. She’s amazing.”

“She got your nose wide open, E. You better hope she doesn't take you for all you’re worth. That’s what they do. You got all this money. They see that as a meal ticket. All I’m saying is be careful, E. Don’t jump into anything you’re not prepared for.”

Erik almost choked on his water at DeMarcus’ words.

“Marcus, are you serious? You jump into shit you’re not prepared for all the time. If anything, you need to look out for yourself.”

“We ain’t talking about me.” DeMarcus jokes.

“We need to talk about you. You better hope Yvette doesn't get rid of you this time around.” Erik argues.

“Yeah, yeah, nigga. Anyway, any plans tonight? I was thinking we could get some drinks. You can hit up Jamie, Tony, and Leo. Like old times. I need to let loose.”

Erik didn’t have any plans tonight. He wasn’t going to see Sienna until tomorrow. It has been a while since they all linked up.

“Yeah, why not? I’m down.” Erik said.

“I was thinking Blackbird.” DeMarcus declared.

“I’ll let the fellas know. Just text me the time and I’m there.”

They clean up after their meal and Erik turns to leave when he spots Teairra walking in wearing maroon scrubs with a matching cotton scrub cap, black cat-eye frames, and black patent Dansko nursing shoes with floating hearts printed on them. That beautiful pageant smile and topaz eyes fringed with wispy lash extensions was directed towards Erik.

“My favorite doctor!” Teairra announced while greeting Erik with a hug.

“Sup, T? Good to see you.”

“I’m really glad to see you. You know I’m transferring to ortho, right? That means we get to see more of each other.” Teairra flirts.

“Ha, you’re something else, T. Guess who decided to show up?”

Erik stepped to the side and pointed at DeMarcus. Teairra gasped with surprise before opening her arms to hug him.

“DeMarcus! How have you been?! Good to see you!”

“You too! Look at you girl, damn! Still just as beautiful!”

“Cut it out,” Teairra slaps his arm, “I heard you had triplets?! I want to see a picture!”

“Aight, I’ll show you the girls, but real quick…any plans later?”

Erik cut his eyes at DeMarcus. He knew exactly where this was going. After all, Teairra and him did have history. She didn’t think Erik knew, a lot of people don’t know.

“No. I was gonna head home and pour myself a glass of red wine after my bath and watch a movie. What’s happening?”

“Erik and I are grabbing drinks at Blackbird. A few of our mutual friends will be there. I was wondering if you wanted to come through?”

“Ooh, sounds fun. I don’t mind. You still have the same number?” Teairra asked.

“I do. Do you?”

Teairra giggled to herself causing Erik to look heavenward with a shake of his head.

“Yes. Still the same. And you’ll be there for sure, E?”

Teairra strokes Erik’s bicep affectionately. DeMarcus clears his throat to gain her attention back.

“Yeah, he’ll be there. Don’t flake on me, T. I ain’t seen you in a while. We got catching up to do.” DeMarcus said.

“Of course. I’m a woman of my word. I got a few hours left on the clock before I punch out. I’ll see you two later.”

Teairra gave them both a flirty wave before sauntering over towards the fridge to fill up her Stanley cup with filtered water. DeMarcus and Erik both share a look before leaving the break room.

Erik waved goodbye to DeMarcus before heading back to his office. After putting his things away, Erik returned to the OR and knocked out two cases back to back that took him a total of four hours to complete. Despite all of the work, Erik had all the energy in the world, so much so that he clocked out as a Surgeon and clocked in as a Radiologist. After completing his residency as a Surgeon, Erik returned to San Francisco and did an additional five years for Radiology while simultaneously working as an Orthopedic Surgeon.

Erik took the elevators down to radiology while clipping his work phone and pager to his hip and retrieving his dictation recorder from his white lab coat embroidered with his name. From the elevators, Erik made his way down a silent hall and past a few rooms until he found an unoccupied reading room shrouded in darkness. He sat down, monitors surrounding him. Everything came to life with a jerk of his mouse. Erik brought up images that needed to be read and transcribed. He wanted to knock out as many as he could within the next hour so he could finally leave for the day.

“Osteopenia. Minimal degenerative changes. Soft tissue swelling. Trace effusion. No fracture. There is atherosclerosis of the arterial vasculature. There is also a calcified partially seen, oval-shaped density seen posterior to the right mid-thigh region, which is of questionable significance of etiology. Further evaluation with ultrasound would be beneficial…”

Erik pulled up to 2124 Market Street, parking his Lexus before hopping out. Erik wore khaki cargo pants, a white T-shirt, and a denim jacket. He paired his look with white Jordan’s and minimal gold jewelry. His locs were loose and he smelled like Chanel Bleu De. Erik walked into Blackbird Bar and spotted Leo playing pool with Toni. Unfortunately, Jamie couldn’t make it due to an emergency. Toni, the Intellectual Property Lawyer who goes by The Owl at Honey Pot, just finished his turn and he passed the stick over to Leo. Toni grabbed his glass and took a sip while shit-talking Leo.

“Damn, ya’ll couldn’t wait for your boy?”

Leo and Toni looked up at Erik at the same time. They paused the game to dab him up.

“Ready for our trip?” Leo asked.

“I’m all set. Just have to pick up the lady tomorrow.”

“Where are you two going again?” Toni questions.

“Hawaii. An honorary ceremony for prestigious doctors all over the U.S.” Erik replied.

“Sounds like some mischief. I’m sure you two will have a story to tell when you get back.”

Erik and Leo could only laugh at Toni’s remark. He was correct.

“Treasure is really excited about it. She’s currently spending my money on a bunch of shit she probably won’t wear.” Leo said.

“I need a drink…”

Erik excused himself to the bar. He waved down a tall, thin white male with shaggy hair, thin lips, and hollow cheeks. He looked like he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. He settled in front of Erik, tossing a black towel over his shoulder.

“I’ll take an old fashioned bourbon, little ice please.”

Erik watched him whip up his drink and then he sat it on a napkin in front of him. Erik took a cocktail straw before walking back over towards the pool table. He caught the tail end of a conversation between Toni and Leo.

“…Me and Emerald eloped. It was the craziest time.”

Erik cocked his head back with surprise.

“You eloped?! What?! When?!”

“About a month ago. We went to Vegas. I know, crazy, right? She just does it for me. I’m so obsessed with her…”

Leo shared a look of astonishment with Erik. Toni was the least spontaneous out of the friend group. Emerald really took him out of his shell. She’s definitely what he’d been missing.

“Wow…” was all Leo could muster.

“Got pictures?” Erik inquired.

“I do…mostly naked…”

Erik put his hand up, “I think I’ll pass.”

Leo turned his mischievous gaze onto Erik.

“What about Miss Peacock?”

Erik instantly smiled at the mention of Sienna.

“I’m so proud of her. She’s graduating nursing school soon. Such a big accomplishment, you know? I have a huge surprise for her. I plan on taking her out of the country to Jamaica. I have it all planned out…can’t give you guys the details yet.”

“A proposal?” Toni asked.

Erik simply shrugged one shoulder while taking a sip of his old fashioned.

“Have you met her family yet?” Toni asked.

“Nah. But I plan on it. She’s from Houston so we’re going there for a weekend. Mostly her mother’s family. She doesn’t have a relationship with her father’s side.”

Leo chuckles, “I met Treasure’s dad…man has a mean right hook I’ll tell you that.”

Erik’s eyes bugged out over the rim of his glass. Toni’s mouth hung open.

“It’s all good now. It was mostly because he has a way of talking to her in the most disrespectful manner. She’d endured that bullshit for years and I wasn’t going to stand there and watch him belittle her. So, I spoke up. We tussled for a bit, I walked out of there with a busted lip. He ended up with three cracked ribs. Nice guy…”

Leo was just as much of a hot-head as Erik. There have been plenty of times where Leo got himself into altercations that could have landed him in jail. Just a crazy white boy.

“I say that to say…you may run into some issues with her family for a number of reasons. Don’t be like me, E. Have some reason. Channel your inner Toni.” Leo explained.

“Thanks for the advice,” Erik replied with a shake of his head.

Leo clinked glasses with Erik and then his eyes went towards the front of the bar where he recognized someone. Erik followed his gaze and noticed DeMarcus walking in wearing a black linen button-down top, matching black pants, and designer sneakers on his feet. He had a fresh line-up with the waves on swim. As he made his way towards them, he threw his hands up in greeting. Leo sat his drink down and brushed past Erik to give DeMarcus the meanest dab that sounded like a loud clap. He pulled DeMarcus in for a bro hug, patting him on the back.

“Marcus! What’s good, man?! Long time no see! What the fuck, Stevens?! Why didn’t you tell me this asshole would be here?!”

“Leo! Crazy fuckin’ Leo! What’s good, cuz?! Aye! Toni! Looking good my dude!”

“What’s up, De!” Toni shouted.

“Get a motherfuckin’ drink you fuckin’ asshole!” Leo gripped DeMarcus’ shoulders before shoving him away towards the bar. That action caused Leo’s Prince Charming haircut to fall messily into his eyes. He smoothed his hair back as he walked back to the pool table.

“Let me take this off,” Leo removed his leather biker jacket, jacked arms with tattoos showing from his black, distressed muscle tee.

“Here we go,” Toni spoke with a hushed tone.

“To have you two in a room again…memories,” Erik said.

“Makes me want to return to practice.” Leo replied.

“I’m back…”

DeMarcus sauntered over with his drink. He checked his phone while taking a spot next to Leo.

“Y’all mind if a lady joins us?” DeMarcus asked Toni and Leo.

“Who? Your wife?” Toni replied

“No. Her name is Teairra. She works with Erik and I.”

“Fine with me.” Leo said.

“I’m cool with it,” Toni brought his attention back to his drink.

“So, how’s everything?” Leo asked.

“Same old shit, just three babies added into the equation. You?”

“Life’s great. I just came back from Egypt with my baby doll. I’ve been enjoying life.” Leo replied with a content smile.

“Baby doll?” DeMarcus raised an accusatory brow at Leo.

“Treasure. She’s my sugar baby.”

“Sugar baby?”

“Yes, Marcus.” Leo shakes his head.

“So, Erik has a girlfriend younger than him and you have a sugar baby?”

“We all have sugar babies, DeMarcus. Well, Toni just married his so technically she’s his wife now. Erik’s thinking about proposing. Jamie is the only one missing tonight.”

“How the fuck did y’all pull this off? And why the fuck was I left out?”

“Because you’re married.” Erik blurted out.

Leo peered at Erik, “Well…technically I was married when I started messing around with Treasure—”

“But you were in the process of divorce. This fool isn’t.” Erik argued.

“I know this nigga ain’t got morals now.” DeMarcus jokes.

“Did I ever cheat on my wife?”

“No, but I’ve seen your eyes wander many times.”

“It happens,” Erik shooed DeMarus, “I’m not doing this with you. We all know how you treat Yvette.”

“Guys, relax, yeah? Let’s drink and kick it!” Leo said.

Erik heaved a sigh before downing the rest of his drink. He excused himself to the now crowded bar for another drink. It took him ten minutes to get another glass of bourbon. When he returned, Teairra had made an appearance. She was dressed in a strappy, slim-fit, all black, body con dress. She didn’t leave anything to the imagination with her cleavage hanging out. All black stilettos on her feet with toes painted red, silver hoops in her ears, and her hair styled in a low bun. Those topaz eyes were on the prowl. She looked like she came for a good time, not a long time.

“Hi! I’m Teairra,” She shook Leo’s hand before turning towards Toni, “Nice to meet you both.”

“Leo.”

“Toni.”

“Wow, so these are your friends, huh? Interesting.”

Teairra’s eyes lit up like Christmas. What she saw was a potential train. Erik knew that look in a woman’s eyes.

“It’s so great to finally meet you guys!” Teairra said.

“You too, beautiful. So, you know these two?” Leo said.

Teairra spotted Erik and she didn’t hesitate to nibble on that pouty, bottom lip and eye-fuck him. Meanwhile, DeMarcus wasn’t feeling that. He gave Erik a dirty look that went unnoticed.

“Oh yeah. This one here is my favorite doctor, and this one—we go way back. He went and got married on me and shit!”

“Don’t do that, T. You know it’s still all love,” DeMarcus spoke defensively, a hand to his chest as if she’d pierced his heart.

“Mhm, if it’s still all love, buy me a drink,” Teairra sassed, poking her curvy hip out and thrusting her chest forward.

“You know I gotchu! Whatchu want, love?”

“Surprise me.”

DeMarcus licked his lips at her before walking away. Erik and Leo share a look and then they cut their eyes at Toni who was trying to contain his laughter.

“So, how do you all know each other?” Teairra asked.

“I met Toni from school way back when. Leo and I used to work together.” Erik said.

“Okay! Do any of you handsome men have a wild story to share about Dr. Stevens with the gifted hands?”

Toni and Leo share a laugh. DeMarcus returned with what looked like a lemon drop martini. Teairra accepted the drink, taking a sip while staring Erik down. Erik looked away and down at his now empty glass, finding the melting ice within interesting.

“Well, This man here is a great dancer. He’s the life of the party for sure.” Toni replied.

“Really?! You dance, Dr. Stevens?”

“I do.” Erik said.

“He’s a sugar daddy.”

Erik slowly looked over at DeMarcus. Teairra’s mouth dropped open and she looked at Erik with shock.

“A sugar daddy?! What the hell?”

Leo and Toni remained silent. They could practically see the anger in Erik’s body language.

“He’s also hot-tempered. Everyone here knows not to fuck with him. Right, DeMarcus?” Leo said in a playful manner to mask the warning behind his words.

DeMarcus didn’t seem to catch the hint.

“He likes them young, T.” DeMarcus continued.

“Erik, how old are you?” Teairra asked.

“I’m forty-five. I’ll be forty-six in October.” Erik said

“You’re only like…eleven years older than me. So, that makes me young too, right?”

Teairra gave Erik a purposely slow once-over. She wanted Erik badly and he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“T, calm down. He’s spoken for.” DeMarcus said.

“And you’re married,” Erik looked at DeMarcus with a glare.

DeMarcus didn’t have a rebuttal for that. Leo cleared his throat before asking if anyone wanted to join him in a game of pool.

“Damn, I mean…I was right there, Erik!” Teairra laughed.

DeMarcus took that time to snake his arm around Teairra’s trim waist. She took sips of her martini while Erik and Leo took up a game of pool. Erik removed his jean jacket and placed it on a stool. The sleeves of his white T-shirt strained against his biceps. Teairra wasn’t paying attention to a thing DeMarcus had to say in her ear. She wanted Erik. Erik could feel her staring but he ignored it.

“What this sugar baby got on me?”

As the game went on, Teairra made her way over to Erik, leaning her body over the pool table while he tried to focus on making his shot. He cut his eyes at Teairra for two seconds before turning his attention back on the game. Erik aimed for a green ball and shot it towards a few balls, watching them scatter. He stood up and when he looked down at Teairra, she was staring at his crotch. Erik gave the stick to Leo and created space between him and Teairra.

“You don’t want to answer my question?” She pestered.

Erik ignored her.

“You need another drink, beautiful?”

DeMarcus came over with a fresh martini. Teairra gave him a flirty smile, accepting her drink.

“Why do you keep bothering, Erik? Bother me.” DeMarcus said.

“If I bother you, it’s gonna be trouble, De.”

Leo took his shot and one of the balls fell into a corner hole. Erik kissed his teeth before snatching up the stick.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game!” Leo shouted.

“Fuck you!” Erik yelled back.

“Don’t be a sore loser, E,” Toni jokes.

“You think I'm a lose, Toni? Like you?” Erik laughs.

“Fifty bucks on Leo!” DeMarcus said.

The game continued on, and Teairra was becoming increasingly drunk. Erik started to become concerned that maybe she should stop drinking. Any surface in that bar, Teairra was arching her back over it and popping her ass. That shit was moving like water. DeMarcus was stuck in a trance. He was playing a mental game of tug-a-war right before them. One part of him wanted to go over and get behind that while the moral part of his mind told him no.

Leo missed an opportunity with a shot and an uproar happened between him and DeMarcus. Erik simply laughed to himself while motioning for Leo to pass him the stick. Leo kissed his teeth as he watched Erik take a final shot, the shot that made him win the game. Teairra cheered and clapped while DeMarcus sulked. He reluctantly slapped the fifty bucks onto the pool table.

“Nah, De, save that for some formula or something.” Erik quipped.

The laughter that erupted around them had DeMarcus making a stank face. Erik didn’t want his money.

“You think you’re a big shot because you got all this money! I got bread too, nigga!” DeMarcus shouted defensively.

Erik scrunched his handsome face, “never said you didn’t. I’m just saying you got a family to feed.”

DeMarcus sucked his teeth before grabbing his drink to finish. Erik could tell he was drunk.

“De, it’s cut off time, bro. You had enough.” Leo said.

“The one time I got to hang out with you fools and now I’m drinking too much?! Let me live!” DeMarcus argued.

“It’s a hotel across the way. Maybe you should sleep it off.” Erik suggested.

“I got a Lyft here but I’m definitely getting a room for the night. Those martinis caught up with me,” Teairra said.

“I’ll get you some water.”

Erik left to grab her some water from the bar. Blackbird was wall-to-wall filled with people. Erik couldn’t even hear himself think. He made it to the bar after shoving past some people. He flagged down a woman with electric blue hair and she made her way over towards him. Erik ordered three waters and she gave him three bottles. On his way back to the pool table, Leo and Toni were talking closely. Erik searched and there was no sign of Teairra or DeMarcus.

“Where did they go?” Erik interrupted.

“De went to the bathroom. Not sure where Teairra went.” Toni replied.

The mention of the bathroom made Erik feel the urge to relieve himself. He sat the bottles down and walked towards the men’s. When he arrived, he opened the door and it was mostly empty except for the first stall. Erik could see two pairs of feet from beneath the stall. A man and a woman. He walked over to the urinal and while he relieved himself, he could hear sucking and slurping sounds coming from the stall. He already knew what was up.

“Mmm, yeah…suck that dick, T.”

Erik flushed and went to wash his hands. He could only shake his head. The noises grew louder and shuffling intensified.

“Mhmm…”

“This nigga…”

“Erik?”

The stall door pushed open and standing there, spit covered dick hanging out through the opening of his briefs, shirt pushed up beneath his chin, was DeMarcus. Teairra was crouched down in her stilettos with one hand full of dick and the other reaching out to keep the door open. Her lips down to her exposed chest was covered in spit. Her once pristine makeup was now ruined from the amount of tears that had fallen from deep throating. Erik couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“What the fuck, T?” DeMarcus blurted out with agitation.

“What? He can join us if he wants. I’d love to suck both of you off…I wanna see what that dick tastes like…I bet it’s pretty…isn’t it, Doctor?”

Erik felt his dick jump. He had to get out of there and fast. The bourbon coursing through his body mixed with the sudden horniness was all too much.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself, maybe next time then.”

Teairra winked at him before turning to suck DeMarcus off again. She didn’t even shut the stall door. She was throating him with no hands all the way down to the base. DeMarcus threw his head back and groaned. Teairra dropped her hand from the stall door to grab DeMarcus by the balls. The door slowly closed, hiding them from sight. Erik walked out and he tried to shake the feeling of his hard dick pressed painfully against his jeans.

“You good?” Toni asked.

Leo gave Erik a weird look. Erik grabbed his Jean jacket and proceeded to slip it on.

“E?” Leo tapped him on the arm, “What’s up?”

“…DeMarcus is getting his dick sucked by Teairra in the bathroom.”

Toni and Leo looked at each other with big grins. They started laughing, too far gone off of whatever they were drinking.

“Couldn’t even wait to get back to the hotel! Damn! She doesn’t waste time…”

“DeMarcus better clean himself off well before going back home to Yvette…”

Erik checked the time on his phone. It was after 11 pm and he was jaded.

“Listen, I’m about to head out.” Erik announced.

“So are we. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.” Leo said.

“Yeah, let me get back to Emerald.”

They all said their goodbyes with hugs and handshakes. Neither of them cared about DeMarcus or Teairra. They all knew he was going back to the hotel with her to finish.

Sienna was dropped off at her apartment by one of her girl friends that she hadn’t seen in months due to school. Dressed in a dark wash denim mini dress with platform pink heels, Sienna waved goodbye, almost tripping in her shoes when she stepped up onto the curb. They shared a laugh before Sienna entered her building.

She fixed the front of her dress, frustrated that it had slipped. Inside, Sienna rode the elevator up to her apartment and quickly made her way inside because her feet were killing her. She decided on a last minute dinner celebration and had one too many green tea shots. It felt like the room was spinning. She clumsily made her way over to one of her sofas, flopping down haphazardly before bending over to loosen the straps that wrapped around her calves.

Giggling to herself, Sienna placed her shoes to the side so that she could stand. She walked towards the kitchen to grab herself some water and a liquid IV packet. She proceeded to mix it in a cup and afterwards she walked back to the living room. Sienna wasn’t quite ready to get in bed, too excited and turnt to rest. She was so close to the finish line. All of that hard work will finally pay off. In just a few short weeks, she’ll be graduating. Her pinning ceremony is within a week, and she had a photo shoot set up for her cap and gown pictures.

Sienna drank her liquid IV and decided to put on some music. R&B playlist on, she stood up to go take off her dress and put on a robe. On her way to her room, Sienna’s phone buzzed. She sat her shoes down next to her bed and opened her bag to retrieve her phone. There, she could see that Erik was calling. She smiled to herself before accepting the call.

“Are you home?”

“Hello to you too, Sir,” Sienna rolled her eyes, “To answer your question, yes, I am. I just got in.”

Sienna could tell that he was driving.

“I’m on my way.”

“Did you just get off work?”

“No. I went out for drinks. I have a story to tell you.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Aight, I’m five minutes out. I’ll see you when I get there.”

“Okay, drive safely. Love you.”

“Love you too, lil’ mama.”

Sienna had plans to do a late night Only Fans session. Maybe this could be the introduction into Erik being a part of it. Why not? That’s her man. She’d been doing sex work less and less since being with Erik and she missed it. She no longer needed the money, but the fantasy of so many people tuning in to watch her fuck her man turned her on something serious. That was her entire aesthetic anyway. Be a slutty sugar baby for an older man. And her boyfriend is all of that.

Sienna took a quick shower and when she finished, she rubbed down with some scented body oil and Orphic body shimmer oil. Her makeup was still intact and she quickly set up to film. She could hear the door opening so she made her way out of the room, cracking the door. She secured her magenta, silk robe around her body and spotted Erik taking off his shoes and denim jacket. He looked delicious. She could smell his cologne from where she stood. His shoulder-length locs framed his handsome face, giving him a rugged look.

“Hey, daddy…”

Erik’s onyx eyes fell on her and he paused, raking his eyes up and down her body. No matter how many times he saw her, she still got the same butterflies in her stomach. Sienna blushed as she made her way over to him. Arms up and around his shoulders, her robe slid open revealing some cleavage and a little thigh. Erik scooped her up, lifting her off of the floor with his arms circling her waist while she was pressed against him. Sienna gripped his face and leaned in for a kiss. They swapped spit and tongued each other down. Sienna could taste the top shelf bourbon on his tongue. She broke the kiss and stared into his eyes longingly while rubbing his cheeks with her thumbs.

“I missed you…I’m so proud of you.”

“I missed you too. Thank you, daddy,” Sienna smiled, “How was your day?”

Erik walked over to the couch with her still in his arms. He carefully sat down, Sienna straddling his waist. Erik rubbed his hands up and down her ass over the silk robe repeatedly. He rested his head back against the sofa so that he could get a better look at her. His eyes were low and she could feel his brick hard dick against her pussy lips.

“It was crazy. Back to back cases. I took a break after three cases to go down to Radiology and do some readings. I knocked that out in an hour. Went out for drinks…how was your day?”

Sienna toyed with his chain, “Amazing. I went out to eat and had drinks with a good friend of mine. I’m seeing her tomorrow too.”

“Sounds like a good time…”

Sienna gave Erik a timid smile. He pinched her cheek.

“So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Oh,” Erik sat up, “So, I caught up with an old buddy of mine named DeMarcus. He worked the cases with me today, he’s an assistant anesthesia tech. Anyway, he invited me out and I invited Toni and Leo. Jamie couldn’t make it. So, DeMarcus invited Teairra…”

“…Teairra from work?” Sienna asked.

“Yeah, the nurse. She came into the break room and caught up with DeMarcus. So, she showed up tonight with us at this bar called Blackbird. DeMarcus and Teairra have history…they used to mess around during overnight shifts back in the day…”

“Doesn’t Teairra have a crush on you?”

Erik hesitated to respond. Sienna doesn’t like Teairra; she's too touchy-feely. Doesn’t know boundaries. Sienna already knew she was on that same type of shit tonight. She was visibly and rightfully annoyed.

“Why was she even there with a bunch of men? Like what did she think was going to happen? Spinning on all y’all dicks?” Sienna argued.

“Baby, calm down. She tried it but I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction. She ended up sucking dick in the bathroom before I left anyway…DeMarcus. And he’s married with kids. He’s been cheating on his girl for a while now…”

“I’m irritated. Did she touch you?”

Erik’s eyes bore into Sienna’s.

“She kind of…stroked my arm…that’s it. Everything else was just staring me down…”

Sienna’s brows snapped together. She was pissed. Erik tried to sooth her by stroking her arms.

“How did you know she was sucking dick in the bathroom?”

Erik observed her body language closely. Despite her being upset, he was so turned on in the moment. She was doing things to him with that cute frown on her face and the bratty tone of her voice. It was rare that he’d witnessed Sienna like this.

“…I saw them. I saw her sucking his dick…she pushed open the door to the stall so I could see…”

Sienna drew her bottom lip into her mouth and looked up at the ceiling. She folded her arms beneath her breast causing them to sit up and point out at Erik’s face. He could see her nipples straining against the silk. He licked his lips and fought the urge to yank that robe open and suck on her nipples.

“Sienna?”

“What?”

She looked down at him finally with a screwed up face.

“I told you, nothing happened. Why are you so upset?”

She unfolded her arms and her breasts bounced.

“Because, I don’t like her. She wants you and you’re mine. You’re my daddy…”

She pouted and went to lift from Erik. He trapped her with his hands on her waist.

“Sienna, look at me…”

She exhaled before rolling her eyes down towards him.

“Are you sassing me, lil’ mama?”

“Why did you watch? Did you like watching her suck dick?”

Erik looked Sienna up and down. He did. It turned him on. It’s not like he wanted Teairra to suck his dick. Erik has a serious voyeurism fetish. Sienna knows this. She does as well.

“Baby girl…I’m not gonna lie to you…it did turn me on. But, I don’t want her, I want you.”

Erik stroked Sienna’s chin while she stared into his eyes.

“I am your daddy. And you’re my baby.”

“…she wants you so bad. But you’re mine.”

“I am,” Erik smirked, “I am yours. All of me. She wanted to taste this dick and see how pretty it is…her loss.”

Sienna shifted her hips on Erik. His dick was practically knocking at the seam of his pants to be freed. He needed to be ten inches and balls deep in her tight wet puss expeditiously.

“She said that?” Sienna questioned.

“Yeah…all while sucking his dick.”

Sienna scowled.

“That bitch…”

“That bitch ain’t getting this dick though. You know why…”

Sienna looked into Erik’s eyes.

“That’s my dick.”

“Mhm…your dick, Princess. All yours…”

“And she can’t have it…”

Erik licked his lips. Sienna reached between them so she could grip Erik’s bulge. She made a whimper sound in her throat that had Erik biting his lip hard. He wanted to hear her make that sound on a never ending loop while he beat that pussy up.

“Daddy…I’m taking that dick right now.”

Sienna pushed off of Erik and took off her robe. Erik watched that robe fall from her body and the way her skin glowed and glistened with whatever she put on had him stuck. He couldn’t look away.

“Damn, baby…”

He reached out to touch her but Sienna smacked his hand away. Erik cut his eyes at her, staring at her like she lost her mind.

“You don’t get to touch me yet. You owe me for what you did tonight. That dick belongs to me…”

So, she was going to dominate him? Erik could only size her up with a half, dimpled smirk. That won’t last. She’s too much of a submissive. All Erik has to do is whip his big boy out and she’s on her knees.

“I have a surprise for you in the room, daddy…”

Erik didn’t hesitate to push himself off of the sofa. Fixing his strained erection, he followed Sienna to her room. She pushed the door open and Erik walked in. His eyes scanned the room and he noticed that she’d set up to film. He looked at her with an arched brow. Sienna walked out of her closet after two minutes wearing knee-high white socks with pink bows on them and matching kitten ears.

“Get undressed. I want you to lay on your back…”

Erik took his time taking off his clothes. With only his briefs left, he didn’t tear his eyes away from Sienna while he pushed them past his hips. That big dick sprung free and bounced between his legs. Sienna’s eyes followed the motion of his balls and dick swaying back and forth. So pretty and smooth with bulging veins and a fat tip. She could feel her walls clenching in preparation.

“Mmm…it’s definitely pretty…”

Sienna crawled onto the bed and turned around so that Erik could have a view of her pussy from the back. Sienna arched her back deep and when she did, her cheeks spread and he could see an opal butt plug in her ass. He sucked his lip into his mouth and grunted.

“That fat pussy is wet, baby girl…that plug is beautiful in that ass too…mm…you tryna tell daddy something?”

“I’ve been training with my plugs because I want you to fuck me in my ass…”

Sienna spread her cheeks with her hand and that pink puss spread open. She was dripping. That clit was nice and hard, her labia glistened and begged to be sucked on, and her wet hole wouldn’t stop leaking. So juicy and ready for his tongue and dick.

“Sienna…” Erik wrapped a fist around his dick and jerked.

“I want you to lay back daddy so I can ride your face…”

Sienna made room for Erik to climb in bed. She had the camera facing away so his face wouldn’t be revealed, only seeing his lower half. He laid back against her pillows and Sienna got on top of him. They were in a 69 position. Erik’s girthy length was definitely camera ready. The ring light made the vein on the underside of his dick pop out. Sienna could feel him spreading her wide to the point where she could feel cool air on her clit.

“Mmm, yes, eat that young pussy…gobble it up…”

Sienna stared into the camera while Erik’s big dick sat against her cheek. She rubbed her face along his length like a dick-crazed slut. Her tongue swiped from his balls all the way to the tip. With each pass of her tongue, she would leave behind a trail of spit that shined.

“I love this big, daddy dick so much…”

Sienna opened up and sat his dick in the back of her throat. She made herself gag on it. Erik was busy sucking on her pussy. Sienna sucked long and hard while cupping his balls in her hand. She would push up on his sack to force-feed her throat some dick. She became cross-eyed in a slut-induced trance. Her lips popped off when Erik started slurping loudly while spanking her ass.

“Yes! Mmm…daddy…keep doing that…you love the way my pussy tastes? Hmm?”

Sienna lifted her hips so she could rock back and forth on Erik’s tongue while sucking his dick. Each time her pussy would meet his tongue, Erik would swipe and flick her clit.

“I love the way your tongue feels on my pussy…”

His big dick was back in her mouth like it never left. With a roll of her neck and a tighter grip of her lips, Sienna sucked like her life depended on it. Saliva formed bubbles that trailed down to Erik’s balls. She had his ass then. He popped his thick lips off her folds and moaned into her pussy.

“Uhhhh, fuck…suck that fuckin’ dick, Princess. Eat daddy’s dick up…fuuuuckkkkkkk….”

Erik went back to feasting on Sienna’s pussy. His tongue caught her creamy lips and he cleaned her up before sucking her clit again to produce more. She was a mess. His lips were covered in her arousal. The most he’d ever witnessed. This Onlyfans shit must be a huge turn on for her.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum in your mouth!”

Sienna jerked Erik’s spit-covered dick while her face frowned with ecstasy. Her body shook with her release, Erik’s face practically between her cheeks. He didn’t stop eating her pussy. Sienna slurped on Erik’s tip while fisting his dick and she could see his thigh muscles contract and his toes curl. He was about to give her a nut to remember.

“Give me that nut daddy…I want it all over my face…”

“Mhmmmmm,” Erik could only hum because Sienna’s hefty cheeks were sitting on his face.

“It’s so thick…I can feel it swelling in my hand…this big dick…cum for me…give me that cum…I want it…”

“Hmm! Mmm! Hmm!”

His cum shot out from his slit and landed all over her chin and lips. The more she jerked and sucked, the more he came. That creamy, white nut trickled down to his balls and Sienna didn’t leave any of it behind. She stared into the camera with her doe eyes while covered in cum.

She lifted off of his face so he could breath and Erik sat up while Sienna moved to his side so that they could focus on his dick. He was still rock hard, dick saluted and balls tight. He was ready for more, and it always amazed Sienna how much stamina he had for his age. He could go multiple rounds and keep up with her.

Jerking his dick, Sienna and Erik kissed, aware that his cum was still on her face. Sienna broke the kiss and stared Erik in the eyes while slowly beating his dick.

“Who’s dick is this?” She whispered seductively.

Erik licked his lips, “Yours…”

“This my dick, daddy?”

“Mhm…”

Sienna started licking and sucking on Erik’s neck.

“I wanna ride my dick…”

“You better ride it all the way, baby girl…”

“That’s how I do it, I want all this dick in my pussy…”

Erik smirked at her, “I wanna feel that pussy deep. If you gon’ take charge, you better do it right or I’m a fuck you myself.”

“When have I ever backed down from a challenge? Hmm?” Sienna replied sassily.

“Let’s not get bold for your fans, Princess. You know daddy have that ass crying. I’m extra hard right now too,” Erik took it upon himself to show her just how hard, “Don’t think because that puss nice and ripe I won’t dig you a new fuckin’ hole.”

Sienna almost came from his words alone. Such a nasty man. She could only whimper as she threw one thick leg over him to straddle him. Erik’s wide palm with outstretched fingers whacked each mocha cheek with force. The feeling of his hand spanking her sent a vibration down to her clit.

“Do that again, Unh,” Sienna arched her back over Erik and started twerking her ass. Erik alternates his spanking, his hand coming down with force. Her flesh stung so good and the closer his hands were to her pussy, the more she leaked.

“Put this dick in, Sienna. Hurry up.”

Whack! Whack! Whack!

“C’mon, lil mama. Get on this dick before you make me mad.”

She did as she was told even though she was supposed to be the one dominating him. Sienna pointed his tip at her opening and she thrust her hips back so he could slide in. He looked into her eyes and she looked at him with a stuck expression on her face.

“Mhm,” whack! “Ride this fat dick.”

“This dick feels so much bigger inside of me!”

Her ass sat on his balls. Sienna positioned herself so she could rock back on him. Planting her hands against the bed, Sienna started bouncing. Her ass ricocheted and created a loud collision. Erik kept his arms outstretched, fighting the urge to grab her waist, plant his feet into the mattress, and ram his dick in. She was doing her thing though, wetting his dick up good.

“That’s it, fuck this dick, Princess. Good girl…show me this dick is yours…get down on this dick…”

“Yes! Oh, fuck,” Sienna felt chills all over, “It’s hitting my spot!”

They could both tell. Erik could feel her walls repeatedly squeeze him and the way he glided in and out of her pussy had his lip poked out and his eyes low. That pussy was creamin’ all over his dick. Sienna could feel nothing but his thick pole wet and hard going in and out of her never ending. It sent tingles all throughout her pussy.

Sienna looked back and she gasped. Creamy and wet. It was a beautiful sight. She was loving that dick in her pussy so much that she had to get up on her feet to ride it. Erik made a fist with his hands. A deep growl rumbled in his chest. Sienna looked down at him with spit hanging from her mouth and her eyes crossing. She was cumming.

“Look at that dumb, stuck look on your fuckin’ face. You cummin’ ain’t you? Huh?!”

Whack! Whack! Whack!

“Shitttttttttttttt—”

Sienna came down on Erik’s dick and squirted. Her body convulsed out of control. Erik had to hold her in place, afraid that she would fall off. The mess she made was nothing but a sticky, creamy, puddle. Erik’s dick slipped out of her wet hole and he sat up on his elbows to admire it. Damn, he wanted to taste it. His tongue ached to taste it. With a glint in his eye, Erik gave Sienna a look that told her ‘end this Onlyfans shit right fucking now’. Sienna took the hint and ended the recording, planning to upload it later.

“I want you to look at all this mess you made on me…”

Sienna peered down at Erik’s dick. She formed a crease in her brow while sucking on her finger.

“Clean your mess up. Get down there and clean this dick off.” Erik barked out.

Sienna didn’t hesitate to put her face between his legs and clean his big dick off. Erik was still solid and ready for more.

“Yeah…you know not to forget these nuts…now, who’s in charge?”

Sienna pulled her lips off of his sack to stare at him.

“You.” She replied with a small voice.

“Show me that pretty ass pussy…”

Sienna turned to face him. She leaned back on her hands, got up on her feet, and spread her thighs. That flower opened up and all he could see was a wet and gushy mess. It was all over her lips, clit, and inner thighs.

“Damn…lil’ mama…”

Erik sat up and got down on his knees on the floor. He dragged Sienna towards the edge of the bed and instructed her to stay just like that. Pussy opened wide, legs pushed out, and eyes on him. Erik looked up at her through his lashes, curled his long tongue, and licked to his heart's desire. Sienna chewed on her bottom lip and fought the urge to close her eyes. He cleaned off her inner thighs so attentively. Each pussy lip he would suck into his mouth leaving behind a trail of spit. This man was a fucking pussy monster. She couldn’t hold her weight anymore. That didn’t fucking matter to Erik, he had her knees by her ears and his plump lips all over her pussy.

“Daddy…daddy, please,” Sienna cried.

Literal tears streamed down her face. It was that good and that overwhelming. Her inner thighs bounced out of control and she gave into the feeling as his lips sucked her clit. One weak hand reached out to put his locs into a tight grip.

“Unhhhhh, uhhh, unhhhh, unh—uh-–uhn–uhhhhh—”

She cried with her release. Erik kissed up her stomach until he was face to face with her. He tongued her down before dragging his tongue down her neck and then he gripped her titties, pushed them together, and feasted on them. This fine ass, grown man knew how to make her body feel and do things she’d never experienced. It was overwhelming and refreshing at the same time.

“Keep your legs open just like this…this how I’m fucking you now…”

“Huhhhhh—”

He was back inside and balls deep. Erik sat up, locs swinging in his face, built body working overtime to fuck her. He had her ankles pinned back so she couldn’t move. Sienna clawed the sheets and stared down the valley of her body at Erik beating her pussy up.

“Such a big girl…mmm…you take dick so good, baby…just how daddy likes it…ready for this dick all right…dick hittin’ that pussy, yeah?”

She was squirting again but Erik fucked through all of that.

“I want that ass next.”

His tone was rough. She couldn’t wait.

“I can’t wait—daddy!”

Erik held his dick deep and thumbed her clit. She came again.

“Look at this shit…”

Erik withdrew his hips and Sienna looked down at how messy his dick was. He moved his hips so that his dick could glide between her folds.

“I'm taking this plug out now, okay?”

Erik didn’t wait for her response. He gently tugged and the tight sphincter of her anus contracted. She moaned at the sensation, more than ready to feel his dick in her ass. She’d prepared for this moment long enough. It was time. She showed him where her lube is and Erik made sure to use enough to make the experience more enjoyable.

“Aight, turn around and arch your back…”

Sienna got into position. Erik folded her legs and climbed onto the bed, standing above her. He crouched down and aimed his dick for her ass. His tip sat at her ass and then he pushed, her back-door entrance opening. She. Clenched up and sucked him in, Erik hissing from the sensation.

“Oh my goodness…”

Sienna exhaled, relaxing her body while Erik pushed deeper.

“It’s going in my ass…fuck, it’s going in my ass…”

Mouth hanging open, eyes wide, Sienna could only look up at Erik. He caught her eye and winked at her with a lick of his lips. He was finally all the way inside.

“Tight ass…damn, damn, damn….”

He pulled back and Sienna gasped.

“Spread your legs…keep that ass open, Princess.”

“It’s so much…”

“I know, but it feels good, right?”

“Yes…”

It was such a great feeling.

“Let me dig this ass out…”

He increased the tempo. Sienna gripped the sheets. To feel his big dick from tip to base go in and out of her had her speechless. Erik got down on his knees behind her and kept her cheeks spread open with his large hands. Now, he was going faster. Sienna drooled onto the bed.

“Fuck my ass, daddy…”

“Fuck this ass? You want me to dig you out?”

“Please!”

Clap! Clap! Clap!

“OH FUCKKKKK!!!!!!!”

Erik had Sienna by her shoulders. Tears streamed down her cheeks while her ass continued to get pounded out.

“FUCK MY ASS GOOD, DADDY!”

Her pussy leaked. Erik noticed and swiped his thumb between her folds until he found her clit. With all her wetness, he flicked her clit with his thumb.

“That clit is nice and fat right now. Ass so fuckin’ tight…gotta open this tight shit up.”

“You fuck ass like that?!”

Sienna was astonished. She loved anal. This man could use all her holes. She wasn’t letting him go. He was the complete package. He pinched and tugged on her hanging clit and labia and that sensation mixed with his dick pounding her ass out had Sienna seeing the galaxy.

“You nasty, good pussy, tight ass, deep throat slut!!!!”

She loved his degradation.

“I’m your nasty slut!—”

“As long as you know who the fuck you belong to! Ugh!”

“Are you cumming daddy?! Please cum in my ass! Please!”

“I fuckin’ love you!”

Erik’s balls slapped Sienna’s clit harder. Harder and harder. He was about to explode. Her asshole got the pounding of her life. She buried her face into the sheets as sweat poured from her body.

“Ugh! FUCK!”

Hot cum filled her ass. She was dizzy with lust and her body ached for more.

“Daddy…fill my ass…”

“Gahdamn, Sienna…”

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @unbotheredblackchild @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @why-wait-4-eventually @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger #sugardaddyerik

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sxcretricciardo · 7 months

Text

F1 Hit Couple

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

You are now sitting in front of the cameras for the Netflix series Drive to Survive. You’re already a pro, being here since the first season, this is easy for you. But, this is gonna be the first time that you and Daniel get both interviewed as a couple.

You’re scrolling trough instagram on your phone when the door opens and Daniel steps in.

“Sorry for being late, mate” Danny says to the producer. You swear you fall in love with his Australian accent everyday. The team mics him up and then he sits beside you and gives you a passionate kiss. You haven’t seen each other in a week since he had to go to Australia because of his mother.

“It’s okay, Daniel. Well, we can get started then.” The producer says, smiling and the cameras start rolling.

“So, how did you guys meet?” The producer asks.

“Well, I had just entered the F1 joining Renault for the 2017 season. I had just came from F2 where I was champion and Renault took a chance with me and I happily accepted. I knew the team was expecting the best of me and I made sure to not let them down. Daniel was the second one to meet me, the first was Nico, obviously” You say, laughing. The crew laughed alongside you. “And he came down to our garage to meet the new driver. I guess everyone was expecting a guy, since Renault kept our contract a secret until the last minute, very few people knew that it was me joining the team. Once Daniel looked at me, and I still remember this very well, his face was of pure shock.”

“It wasn’t shock, really. I knew it was going to be a woman driver, and I was really excited to meet you because we never had a female driver before, and I wanted to make sure that you were welcomed with open arms. And the moment I laid eyes on you, I was star struck.” Danny confesses.

“What was your first thought when you saw Y/N?” The producer asks.

“That she was really beautiful and the second I got to know her the more, I knew that she had an even more beautiful personality. On top of that, she’s the funniest person I’ve ever met.” Danny says. You start blushing.

“That’s why you’re both called the funniest duo on the grid.” The producer says.

“Really? I didn’t know that!” You say, laughing.

“Really? I thought that was pretty obvious.” Danny says.

“How does competing alongside your partner in Formula 1 affect your personal relationship? Is it a positive or negative influence?” The producer asks.

“I think it’s very positive. Having someone that understands you and motivates you. We both know the sacrifices that we have to make to be in this sport and it helps a lot that we’re both in it because we get to spend a lot of time together.” You say.

“Yeah, I agree. I see the guys on the grid saying they’re missing their girlfriends and talking to them on the phone and I’m just ‘don’t mind me, I’m just gonna walk next door and kiss mine’ you know?” Danny says, laughing.

“What about summer break, do you also spend it together?” The producer asks.

“In the first two weeks Daniel flies to Australia to meet his family and I fly to see mine. Then, we spend the rest of the following days together.” You say.

“Do you ever give each other strategic advice during races?” The producer asks.

“Yeah, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t take the best out of Daniel’s advices. He has the experience and wisdom that I don’t have yet. He’s been trough a lot in his career and he’s my go to guy when it comes to advices.” You sincerely say.

From the corner of your eye you see Daniel smiling.

“Does Daniel go to you to get advices?” The producer asks.

“Sometimes, yeah.” You say.

“She sees the track with other eyes, you know? She has a completely bold strategy and I sometimes I really need to be bold.” Danny says.

“Daniel, what do you think are Y/N best individual strengths and weaknesses?”

“She’s fearless when it comes to driving that car. She doesn’t care about the risks when her eyes are only set on one goal, set on winning. She takes decisions that most of us wouldn’t have the balls to do so. And sometimes that can make her reckless and make poor decisions too and I think she has already realized this.” Danny says.

“Yeah, that’s true. I remember that in my first year of Formula 1 I would make poor decisions and as in result I had to retire the car because of that. Then, after those races, I would go to Daniel and ask what did I do wrong and he was brutally honest. I needed that.” You say.

“And what about Daniel? What is his best individual strengths and weaknesses?”

“He��s wise. He knows the tracks like the palm of his hands and knows the best strategies to basically fly through them. His weakness is that he thinks too much. Sometimes he has to take some risks in order to win.” You say.

“When one of you gets the podium and the other doesn’t, how do you guys react to that?”

“Well, it’s a mix of feelings. Of course you’re happy for your partner when they get the podium but, it’s undeniable that you’re also disappointed with yourself for not being there too. You need to separate the worlds. When Y/N is on the podium, you need to be the supportive partner and celebrate her, because there will be plenty of time to think about a strategy to beat her next.” He says and laughs.

“We agreed to separate the track from our personal lives since we started dating. And we’ve done that beautifully.” You say.

“Has ever been arguments about that?” The producer asks.

“Never!” You say.

“Let’s talk about a more sensitive matter.” The producer says.

“Love those.” Danny ironically says.

“Spa 2020.” The producer says.

“Ugh, I knew this was coming.” You laugh nervously.

“What happened?” The producer asks.

“I was on P4 when suddenly Grosjean’s car looses control and crashes into mine and we both hit the barricade at 200 miles per hour. I passed out for a few moments and when I woke up, I could only see fire around me. That’s when my fight or flight mode turned on and I try to get out of that car the fastest I can. When I go reach my seatbelt I find out that it’s stuck and it takes me a whole minute to get it out. Once I’m able to finally get out of the car, I only remember walking like a meter or so and then everything goes black.” You say, remembering the almost tragic day. “I only remember waking up in the hospital after that with a burned hand and getting some oxygen out into me because I breathed in too much smoke while I was trying to get out, that’s why I passed out.”

You feel Daniel’s hand on your lap, as a gesture of reassurance.

“That was a fun day.” You say, laughing to revive the mood of the room.

“It really wasn’t.” Daniel says, letting out a nervous laugh.

“How was it like for you?” The producer asks Danny.

“As soon as my engineer told me that was a red flag, I had this really bad feeling. I remember asking what happened and to who it happened and there was radio silence, I knew it was Y/N. And as soon as we all stopped in the paddock I remember getting out of the car and looking for Y/N. That was when they gave me the news that she had crashed and it was bad. My instinct was to immediately run to where she was and no one could stop me. When I got there, the paramedics told me that she was going to be okay and I got so relieved.” He lets out a nervous laugh and continues “I was not going to continue the race, all I wanted was to be with her but she was the one telling me to continue and remember me that in that track we’re drivers and that I needed to win that race. And that’s what I did.”

“You finally got P1 in that season.” The producer says.

“Yeah, but I didn’t really enjoy it. All I wanted was to get down that podium and run to the hospital, to be with her.” He says.

“There’s a lot of highs about dating when you’re in Formula 1 but the lows can be really low. Your instinct is to be with your significant other when they crash or have to retire the car but you know you need to race, it’s your job and you can’t get away with it. All you can do is win to have something to celebrate about. Deep down you know they are in the right hands.” You say.

“When covid hit, where were you guys?” The producer asks.

“We were living our lives, you know? We took that time off the track to really align ourselves with each other, to connect even more.” Danny says and you smile.

“And made the decision to get our own place. So, Covid for us was all about house hunting.” You say, laughing.

“What are your goals for the future in Formula 1?” The producer asks.

“Well, the championship is always my goal, it will always be. And I’m going to make sure that I win it next year.” Daniel says.

“And for you, Y/N?” The producer asks.

“Well, this past year was amazing for me. I got my championship and I’m really happy about that. But, next year I won’t be racing in the F1.” You say and look at Daniel who nods.

“And why is that?” The producer asks.

“I’m have to take a break for some time because I’m pregnant.” You say, smiling from ear to ear.

Everyone on the crew congratulates you and Danny.

You stand up and lift of your shirt just enough to show your little bump on camera. Danny gently presses his hand on your belly.

“Daniel Ricciardo Jr. is cooking in there.” He says, laughing.

“Well, if it’s a boy we’re definitely not calling him that.” You say as you sit down.

“Do you want a boy or a girl, Daniel?” The producer asks.

“I just want him or her to come healthy so it doesn’t really matter, mate.” He says.

“Well, next week we’ll know for sure.” You say and smile.

You feel realized. You have an amazing career, and amazing boyfriend and now you’re gonna have your little family. It’s heaven on earth.

#daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 #f1 imagine #max verstappen #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #lewis hamilton #lando norris

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aphelion-alifer · 12 days

Text

relieving wing related dysphoria

something that I see many winged folks experience, including myself, is wing related dysphoria. more specifically, dysphoria relating to not being able to fly or not having wings physically. all my life this is a struggle I've dealt with, and I understand how painful it is. there are ways to relieve it though! here's some things that I've come up with and suggest to those who are struggling:

create mood boards, wallpapers, stim boards, and pinterest boards relating to the sky, your wings, theriotype, shifted form, etc

dive into media that has winged people/creatures (maximum ride, the maleficent movies, the croaking, just to name a few)

play games that let you fly, either with or without wings. bonus points if you're able to do it in VR (roblox, minecraft, feralheart, aer memories of old, superflight, fugl, etc)

practice lucid dreaming or astral projection

blankets!! especially weighted blankets, this can mimic the feeling of having wings

create or buy cosplay wings that look like your own (either typical cosplay wings worn with a harness/straps, or a backpack with wings, or a shawl in the shape of wings)

wear the colors of your wings, theriotype or shifted form

surround yourself with wing related themes or themes related to your theriotype or shifted form (buttons, pins, stickers, doodles, plushies, etc)

wear wing related accessories (rings, necklaces, hair pins, wings you can put on the laces of your shoes, etc)

if you're able to, get wings tattooed on your back or get a tattoo related to your theriotype or shifted form

if you're able to, participate in sky/air related sports or activities (skydiving, wingsuit flying, paragliding, hang gliding, etc)

draw/doodle your wings, theriotype or shifted form!!

meditate and visualize your wings. feel their weight, see their colors and textures, etc.

connect and talk to others who have wings if you need support and are looking for folks who have had similar experiences

carry around a backpack and make sure to give it some weight! having a backpack of a similar weight to my phantom wings tends to make my phantom wings go away, if you're looking to stop your phantom wings from existing for a bit for any reason

collect feathers that look like yours if you have feathered wings

connect with nature! this helps ground me and feel more connected to my natural self. I suggest going outside on a windy day or climbing trees.

stick your head/arms out of the car when you're going somewhere! this is one of my favorite things to do and it mimics what I imagine flying to feel like (pro tip, don't do this if you're driving)

make your room feel like the environment you belong in (using nature or wind ambient sounds, fans to get air flowing, that sort of thing)

watch flying POV videos

I'm sure there are more things that I could add, but I think that this is all my brain can think of at the moment. feel free to add onto the list if there's anything else that any of you want to add if I missed anything!

185 notes · View notes

lividstar · 4 months

Text

🎞️ — ♡ BULLSEYE!

៚ wc: 35.9k

៚ fluff, angst, student athlete!wooyoung x photojournalist!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt -> comfort, you’re both in love and everyone knows except for you yourselves, zb1 cameo

៚ playlist !

៚ Being part of your university’s journalism publication as the head photojournalist has its own ups and downs. The pros are having the right to roam around campus freely even when there’s no reason to do so—you could just come up with an excuse and say you were exploring the halls for some sort of documentation project, being able to express your passion for photography for a good cause, and your duties demanding you to technically be work partners with your best friend, Yeosang, who belongs to the sportswriting column. You mainly experience the highs of it, though on some days, however, you find yourself wishing you had just chosen a different profession instead. Caused by what—or who, rather, might you ask? Well, that’s none other than the so-called star football athlete Jung Wooyoung. His carefree demeanor and reckless actions irk you to no end, leading you to always involuntarily playing an escape game against him every single day inside the school buildings. Too bad your duties will never allow him to be completely out of sight, though.

Furious.

You were absolutely furious.

The campus buzzed with the energy of yet another eventful day as you navigated the crowded halls, your camera slung over your shoulder with a scowl on your face. A group of friends slash through the crowd, huge smiles on their faces as they chase each other, the sound of their shoes squeaking due to the newly waxed tiled floors making your ears bleed. The one at the very last of the line—you could only assume they were playing a game of tag and he was “it”—accidentally bumps his shoulder against yours as you walk, and you look behind your back at him with an offended expression, but all you were met with was the sight of the boy continuing to run, not even sparing a glance at you.

What a great way to make your day even worse, isn’t it?

As the head photojournalist for your university’s journalism publication, you had grown accustomed to the ebb and flow of student life, capturing moments that told the story of your school with a discerning eye. From documenting large occasions like various extracurricular activities to taking snaps of the rare quiet moments you treasure like a diamond such as coming up to the highest floor to capture photographs of the university’s building as the golden hour paints a warm hue all over it while students leave the campus one by one, progressively making your surroundings more silent as the minutes pass—you cherished it all.

Your favorite part of being a photojournalist is the moments when you’re snuggled up in your bed, continuously clicking the next button of your camera while checking the photos in its files—a few of them being ones you don’t quite remember taking—and stumbling upon photoshoots that capture the emotion of happiness conveyed all over people’s faces. You find comfort in the fact that you’re able to capture what could only possibly be their favorite memory to look back to every once in a while in the future.

Today, however, that sense of purpose was clouded by a sense of dread. You had been assigned to cover the football team’s practice for an upcoming sports article of Yeosang on the daily lives of student athletes. It was a topic that always garnered interest, especially with the team's recent winning streak. But for you, it meant spending time around Jung Wooyoung and his friends—the embodiment of every single trait you couldn’t stand in people.

Your journalism advisor, Mr. Kim, had been insistent. “We need fresh, dynamic shots for this article. The football team is perfect for that. You’re the best we have—quite literally the only one, so I’m counting on you.”

Well, of course. Your publication is short of a few people as the majority don’t quite seem to find the duties of being a journalist to be an essential part of making their college lives memorable. They like what you do, but the idea of being put in your position? Not so much.

You nodded, masking your irritation with a professional demeanor. “Of course, Mr. Kim,” you had said, though deep inside, you were fuming. There were a million other things you’d rather be doing than spending your afternoon with a bunch of overgrown children who thought they ruled the school.

As you made your way to the field, each step felt heavier than the last. The crisp autumn air did little to lighten your mood. The scent of freshly cut grass and the distant shouts and laughter of athletes warming up only served to remind you of where you were headed and who you would be dealing with.

You spotted the team easily, their figures a blur of motion and color against the green expanse of the field. At the center of it all was Jung Wooyoung, the star athlete whose charisma and energy seemed to draw everyone in. His presence is impossible to ignore—you have to admit, yet not in a good way. He’s loud, rowdy, and always the center of attention. He was everything you typically found irritating in a person, and you already had plenty of reasons to dislike him. And you think that even if you didn’t, you’d still hate him just as much.

Adjusting the settings on your camera, you positioned yourself by the sidelines, focusing the lens on the players. Through the viewfinder, you watched as their captain, Kim Hongjoong, led the team in a series of drills, his voice ringing out with commands and encouragement. It was clear that these guys lived and breathed football, and while it may be impressive, it still doesn’t change the fact that they’re a constant source of annoyance.

You snapped a few shots, capturing the intensity of the practice, the sweat and determination etched on each player's face. Each click of the shutter was a reminder of how much you resented this assignment. Why did it always have to be them? Why not cover something, anything, else? The theater kids would’ve been much more worth your time, you think, even if they’re just as rowdy as the football team. The only difference is they don’t have someone like Wooyoung.

Lost in your work, you almost didn’t notice when the practice session ended, the players breaking off into small groups to cool down. Wooyoung, ever the social butterfly, was in the midst of a lively conversation with his teammates when his eyes met yours. A grin spread across his face as he jogged over, his energy undiminished despite the rigorous practice.

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

“Hey, photo girl!” he called out, his voice carrying easily across the field. “Getting some good shots?”

Photo girl? You grimace, judging him heavily inside your head. You lowered your camera, looking up at him from where you sat with a steady, unimpressed gaze.

“Just doing my job,” you replied, your tone professional but laced with an edge of irritation in hopes of him noticing your need to be left alone. But then again, you can’t be foolish enough to actually expect him to know how to read the room now, can you? Or maybe he does, yet simply doesn’t bother to do so.

Wooyoung’s grin doesn’t falter. “Well, make sure you get my good side,” he said with a wink, pointing finger guns at you.

You nearly roll your eyes, your expression remaining stoic. “I’ll see what I can do.”

As Wooyoung rejoined his teammates, you turned back to your camera, trying to ignore the lingering annoyance. This was just another assignment, another day in the life of a university photojournalist. You didn’t have to like it, and you certainly didn’t have to like them. All you had to do was get the shots, get out, and hope you won’t have to be in the same space as them again any time in the future.

As Wooyoung rejoined his teammates, a chorus of teasing comments greeted him. Seonghwa was the first to speak up, a teasing grin on his face.

“What?”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for stoic girls who look like they could ruin your life.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, laughing it off. “Please, I’d never date a girl like that. I like those who can match my energy.”

“Wow, that’s boring,” Jongho chimed in, shaking his head. “You’re so old school, Woo. It’s the 21st century!” Everyone proceeded to laugh at Jongho’s comment, making Wooyoung land a hard hit on his shoulder.

He meant it, really. Wooyoung was well aware of the way students all over the campus describe his persona—at first, he thought the adjectives they always used whenever he was the topic brought to their table were absolutely stupidly inaccurate, but in a way, after a long while of getting used to being in the very center of the spotlight, he had started to embody the traits people paint on him—no one told him to do so, though. He just felt like he had to twist and turn himself to fit their ideals, is all. Now, he’s widely known as a carefree person who doesn’t care about whatever goes on in his life—well, he used to. Just way before people started thinking they knew him better than himself to make up their own idealized versions of him in their head, at least.

The laughter then died down, and for a moment, Yunho looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, “I don’t get your issue, Woo. She’s actually really pretty. I see her taking documentations of everything that happens on campus all the time.”

Wooyoung shrugged, brushing off the comment. “I never said anything about her not looking good. She’s just… not my type, is all,” he immediately replied smugly, yet his confusion with himself appeared just as quick. For what reason did he have to hesitate with saying that?

At this, Mingi sensed an opportunity to push Wooyoung’s buttons, jumping in with a teasing smirk. “Please, like you’re her type. I bet she doesn’t like you just as much.”

Laughter erupted from the group once more, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but join in, though he shot Mingi a glare. “Hey, I’m pretty sure I’m everyone’s type,” he said with profound confidence, making everyone sigh.

“And by everyone you mean that creepy old lady in the cafeteria as well?”

“Gross!”

“Seriously though,” Yunho continued, “she’s really cool. She always seems so focused and serious no matter what she does—like she can easily adapt to her surroundings.”

“What do you mean by that?” Wooyoung asked, tilting his head.

“She’s one of the top students as well, remember? I don’t know how she balances her studies and duties, but it seems like she does it with such ease. It’s kind of impressive, especially to someone like me who doesn’t know how to breathe in an air that doesn’t reek of my sport.”

Jongho nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she’s got this whole mysterious vibe going on. People like that are like rare gems these days—not to mention, in this university. It’s different.”

“Different is one way to put it,” Wooyoung said, shaking his head. “She looks like she’d tear apart anyone who dares to get in her way.”

San smirked, nudging Wooyoung. “Maybe that’s what you need, someone to keep you and your tendencies of being a brainless prick even during the times you need to get yourself together on check.”

Wooyoung scoffed, “Nah, I’m good. Besides, she clearly doesn't like us. Did you see the way she looked at me earlier? It was like I was some kind of pest. Not even just earlier—all the time. I don’t get what her deal is.”

“Can you blame her?” Seonghwa shrugged. “You did interrupt her work. I’d be mad, too.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like she’s all sunshine and rainbows either,” Wooyoung countered. “I mean, she barely even smiles—scratch that, she never does!”

“Maybe she just needs a reason to smile,” Yunho suggested, giving Wooyoung a pointed look.

“Oh, here we go,” Wooyoung groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m not some knight in shining armor who’s going to make her see the bright side of life. She’s not interested, and neither am I. Why are we even talking about this?”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” San said with a chuckle. “But don’t be surprised if she starts showing up in your thoughts more often.”

Wooyoung laughed it off, shaking his head. “Trust me, I’m not interested. I’ve got enough on my plate with football and classes I’m barely even passing.”

He said with such confidence, yet did so while keeping his focus on your blurred figure in his peripheral vision.

From where you sat by the bleachers, you could see the expressions on their faces—everyone had a wide smile on their lips, whereas Wooyoung was frowning. You don’t have a single idea of what topic they could possibly be discussing, but somehow, the look on Wooyoung’s face brought you a sense of satisfaction. Regardless of what they were talking about, if it was pissing off Wooyoung a massive amount, then you definitely have to thank whoever uttered out the first word that started the conversation.

You figured you’ve taken more than enough shots for your publication’s article already, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to start a practice match once more any time soon, either, so you start tidying your things up, placing a hand on your knee for support as you stand up. A gust of wind passes by, and a few strands of your hair cover your face. You tuck them behind your air, immediately making your way outside the field, grateful that your suffering will finally come to an end.

Making your way towards the school gates, you spot Yeosang waiting for you at a nearby bench, his eyes lightening up the moment he notices you walking towards him. He stood up, and as you got closer, the image of the frown you held became clearer to him.

“Didn’t go well, I assume?” he asked, taking your bag off your shoulder and slinging it on his as you both walked out side by side.

“Well, it could’ve, had Mr. Star Of The Show not interrupted me in the middle of checking my shots.” You roll your eyes, and a sigh comes soon after. “Seriously, who the hell does finger guns these days? That has to be the biggest sin one could ever commit.”

“It’s Wooyoung again, huh?” he mused, seemingly more used to the star athlete’s antics than you are. “Well, the fact that he embodies the stereotype of a typical jock should’ve been enough to tell you that he’d be that type of person.” Yeosang shrugged.

“I don’t even know what to expect from him and his friends anymore. They never fail to surprise me—and I mean that in a bad way.” You take the lace of the camera off your neck, giving it to Yeosang so he could check the shots you had taken.

“For someone who claims to hate the football team, your shots have turned out to be really good,” he said while looking through the photos, stopping at a particular image of San’s foot up in the air with the ball right at the tip of his shoe. “This one’s my personal favorite so far.”

“Professionalism is a crucial tactic in journalism,” you replied, clasping your hands together. “There’s no way I’ll ever let my personal feelings get in the way of my duties.”

“You say that, but I know that deep inside, you wanted to lash out at Mr. Kim earlier for personally picking you to be the football team’s official photographer,” he teased.

“I am not their official photographer, Yeo. I would rather eat a rock.”

“Well, with the amount of times you have been chosen to conduct documentation of the football team, you might as well be.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly pushing his shoulder. He stumbles to the side, nearly clashing with a tree. You turn to look the other way, whistling with your hands intertwined behind your back.

“So we’re just going to pretend you didn’t do anything?” he deadpanned, stopping in his tracks. You looked behind him, a blank expression on your face. “What are you talking about?” you tilted your head, feigning innocence.

“Yeah, we’re gonna pretend nothing happened. Got it,” he replied, catching up to you.

“How’s your sports article going, by the way?”

“Please don’t ask about that.”

—

Your eyes felt as if there was a fire igniting within them as you nearly dropped your head down on your study table, the dim, warm light of your lamp not being of any help with keeping your spirits wide awake. Had you known the amount of times you’d be robbed off your resting hours the moment you step foot into the college life, you probably would’ve constantly messed things up during high school just so you could repeat the year all over again and postpone the date of the official confirmation that you’re no longer a little child running through the playground.

You love to pick up pens and scribble words on blank papers even if your duty lies in clicking the buttons on a camera, but not on days like this wherein you’re doing not because you want to, but because you need to.

You hate being told what to do.

Mr Kim seems to have a knack for letting you carry all the burdens of those who are part of the publication of the campus, based on your past observations. The editorial writer has to publish an article due on Wednesday but she has to attend a family occasion on the same day? Sure, just swap her out with you. It’s totally fine, she totally didn’t have a chance to already start working on the paper for one whole week before it’s due at all. Sure, you’re fine with it—you should be.

People have always relied on you too much, and after a while, it made you start believing you weren’t brought upon this world to have struggles of your own, rather, you were here with a purpose to solve every conflict that occurs around you. You kept being pushed to validate others, so often to the point where the one you’re invalidating is yourself.

It’s not that you don’t bother to stand up for yourself, because you do—every single time, actually. But whenever such events happen, you’re always meeting a dead end with the same response from everyone.

“You won’t do it for me? You’re a horrible person, then.”

You’ve always been the problem solver, the go-to person when things go wrong. It started in high school, where you found yourself at the very top of a tower of extracurricular activities, balancing them with ease while also helping classmates with their assignments. Back then, you didn’t mind helping out. It felt good to be needed, to be the one people could rely on. It felt nice witnessing people’s success knowing you played a part in helping them improve, regardless of whether they expressed gratitude for it or not.

But somewhere along the way, that very role had become a cage, trapping you in a cycle of constant giving without receiving anything in return. You couldn’t afford to be carefree; you couldn’t afford to make mistakes. You had to be perfect, always. You thought college might be different, a place where people would finally stand on their own two feet, but hey, it turns out—it was worse.

Mr. Kim’s persistent habit of delegating others’ responsibilities to you was grating on your nerves. You were tired, not just physically, but emotionally. You felt like a machine, expected to churn out results without a moment’s pause for your own needs or desires.

The papers and notes scattered across your desk were a testament to your never-ending workload. You tried to focus, but your mind kept wandering back to the football field, to Wooyoung and his friends. The thought of them made you grind your teeth in frustration.

Your hatred for Wooyoung and his friends wasn’t just about their behavior on the field. It was about the deeper, more painful realization that they had yet another thing you might never have: the ability to live freely. They could be themselves without fear, while you had to conform to the expectations of others. Their lives seemed perfect in their imperfection, while yours felt like a never-ending quest for unattainable perfection.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that the very thing you despised in them was something you secretly longed for.

You wonder what it would be like to switch places, to live a day in their shoes. But it was a futile thought, one that only served to remind you of the stark difference between their world and yours. With a sigh, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the tasks ahead. There was always more work to be done, and little time to dwell on what could never be.

You glanced at the clock. It was way past midnight. The silence of your room was only broken by the ticking of the clock and the occasional rustle of papers. You knew you should be sleeping, but sleep was a luxury you couldn’t afford. Not when there was always another deadline looming, another responsibility thrust upon you without warning.

With a heavy sigh, you picked up your pen again. The words flowed, albeit reluctantly, as you forced yourself to finish the editorial story. Each sentence felt like a burden, each paragraph a reminder of the countless hours you had sacrificed for the sake of others. You really could’ve been snuggled up in bed right now.

Your phone buzzed out of nowhere, dragging you out of your thoughts. You turned your head to the right side of the table where you placed it, and a message notification from Yeosang lit up your lockscreen.

“Are you alright?”

And that’s when the last string fell apart.

You put your pen down once more, and it fell to the ground. The weight of everything—the constant pressure, the endless responsibilities, the relentless need to be perfect—crashed down on you all at once. You felt the tears well up in your eyes, and before you knew it, they were streaming down your face.

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle the sobs, not wanting anyone to hear. Even in your most vulnerable moments, you couldn’t afford to let anyone see you break. It was a cruel irony that the one person everyone relied on had no one to lean on themselves.

The message from Yeosang was still on your phone, the simple words cutting right through your defenses. He always knew when something was wrong, even if you never said a word. But this time, you couldn’t muster the strength to reply. You couldn’t bring yourself to say that you weren’t alright, that you were drowning under the weight of everyone’s expectations.

You hunched over, shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked your body. The room felt cold and empty, the dim light of the lamp casting long shadows that seemed to close in on you. It was as if the world had shrunk to this one moment of pain and exhaustion, where nothing else existed but the overwhelming need to just let it all out.

For a long time, you stayed like that, silently crying, letting the tears wash away the frustration and the bitterness that had built up inside you. It felt like an eternity before you finally began to calm down, the sobs slowing to quiet sniffles. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, taking deep, shuddering breaths to steady yourself.

You glanced at your phone again, Yeosang's message still glowing softly on the screen. With a shaky hand, you typed out a reply.

“I will be.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. You would be alright, eventually. You always found a way to pick yourself back up, to keep going no matter how hard it got. But right now, in this moment, you allowed yourself to feel the weight of it all—because you know it’ll be a long while before you can do so again.

You let out a long sigh, picking up your pen from the floor and placing it back on the table. The work was still there, waiting for you, but for now, you gave yourself a moment of respite. You needed it more than you cared to admit.

After a few more minutes, you straightened up, took another deep breath, and wiped the last of the tears from your face. There was no time for self-pity; you had work to do. And as always, you would find a way to get through it. One step at a time.

—

You were so tired and stressed while writing the article last night that you forgot to proofread each paragraph, and now Mr. Kim was endlessly nagging at you for the—mind you, two—mistakes you had made. His voice droned on, a relentless tirade that made you want to disappear into the floor.

“This is so unusual for you,” he said from his seat, as you stood in front of his desk with your hands intertwined in front of you. “You’ve shown me nothing but perfection for the past few months. Why can’t you live up to your reputation?”

“I... I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” you muttered, not knowing what else to say. “Sorry? Do you think ‘sorry’ is going to cut it? You are supposed to set the standard here. Aren’t you one of the top students? What happened to the meticulous work you usually deliver?” he asked, clearly upset.

One of the top students, there it goes again. At this point, you can no longer recall how many times you’ve been called the exact same term. Funny how it always happens when you fail to live up to people’s expectations.

Each word felt like a hammer, pounding away at your already fragile sense of self. You kept your head down, murmuring apologies, wishing desperately for this to end. Mr. Kim continued, his disappointment evident in every syllable.

“This kind of sloppiness is unacceptable. I don’t care what your excuse is, this cannot happen again. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

When he finally gave you permission to leave, you hurriedly left the room, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. It was lunch break, and knowing that the football team didn’t have practice matches scheduled on Wednesdays, you headed for the quiet field. It was the only place you could think of to let it all out without anyone seeing.

Sitting at one of the bleachers, the tears began to fall softly. You weren’t shaking or sobbing like you were the night before—just silent tears streaming down your face. For a moment, you wondered if you had gone past your limit and had become completely numb. The pressure, the expectations, the constant need to be perfect—it was all too much.

Just then, a familiar voice called out of nowhere.

“Photo girl?”

You quickly wiped your tears, pretending not to notice him. You kept your eyes fixed on the greenery of the field, willing yourself to stay composed. Wooyoung approached and sat down behind you, his presence an unwelcome intrusion.

“Were you crying?” he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

“No,” you replied almost immediately, voice flat and unconvincing.

“Yes, you were. I saw it,” he countered, undeterred.

“Then pretend you didn’t see anything,” you snapped, looking away once more.

He was silent for a moment, and then he asked, “What’s the matter?”

You wanted to laugh at his face. “It’s not like someone like you would get it, anyway.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “What’s so different about me that I wouldn’t understand?”

You turned to look at him, your eyes filled with a mix of frustration and emptiness—and it caught him off guard.

“Everything.”

“What do you-” he was about to ask for further elaboration, but you were already on your feet.

You stood up abruptly, not wanting to explain yourself to someone like him. Without another word, you walked away, leaving a very confused Wooyoung sitting alone on the bleachers. He watched you go, a frown creasing his forehead. There was clearly a lot he didn’t understand about you.

Class hours passed by like a blur, and now, you were on your way home, desperate for at least just a few minutes of rest. Looking back, it seems nothing had gone well for you today—to start off, Yeosang, the only person you like within the confines of the university, wasn’t around today because he and his family had to attend a relative’s birthday party.

When he told you about it earlier in the morning, you had considered calling in sick because truthfully, without him, the only thing that balances your dull life with half an amount of light, you’re not really sure how you’re supposed to survive the entire day without someone ‘accidentally’ ending up dead. Not that you’d actually do that, but the idea is, without Yeosang, you know you’d be a hundred percent more comfortable with lashing out at whoever dares to push your buttons.

But then again, perfect students don’t skip school no matter the intensity of circumstances, do they?

Coming in second is the conversation—if you could even call it that—you had with Mr. Kim in his office earlier. You genuinely believe he really didn’t have to say all that, betting every single penny in your pockets that if it were to have been a different student in your shoes, he wouldn’t even bother calling them to his office—he’d simply scribble corrections over the text written on their output with a bright red pen he once borrowed from a student and forgot to give back.

And last, but definitely not the least, Wooyoung’s unsolicited presence by the bleachers earlier. The words he let come out of his mouth were yet another testament to just how out of touch with reality he was—who in their right mind would ask a person who clearly wants to be left alone why they’re crying? The nerve he had to call you that horrendous nickname once again, too.

Finally reaching your most awaited location, you shoved your hand inside your bag, brows slightly furrowed while waiting for the tips of your fingers to feel the cool, metallic touch of your keys. Once you found it, you hurriedly inserted it in its designated hole on your doorknob, twisting your hand a few degrees so it would open. The sight that greeted you the moment you pushed the door open brought a soft sigh to your lips—at last, you were home.

Just a couple floors above your apartment, a group of boys were lounged lazily in the living room, a few of them busying themselves with watching the movie playing on the television, while the others engrossed themselves in a conversation with one another.

“Hey, Yunho,” Wooyoung called out from the sofa, his loud voice overtaking the quiet whispers of the two main characters of the dystopian movie playing on the screen.

Yunho, who was in the kitchen, answered back, “Yeah, what’s up?”

Wooyoung stood up and made his way to the kitchen. “What does it mean when you ask someone why they’re crying and they tell you, ‘It’s not like someone like you would understand, anyway’?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, dropping the kitchen knife down on the cutting board. “Where did that question come from? Did you come across someone crying?”

Wooyoung shrugged, not wanting to give away too much. “It’s a hypothetical situation. Just answer the question.”

Yunho leaned against the counter, contemplating. “Well, it could mean two things. One, what they’re going through is too complex for anyone to understand, so they feel like it’s pointless to explain it.”

Wooyoung nodded slowly, considering this. “And the other?”

Yunho shrugged. “The other is that they think you’re too stupid to understand.”

Wooyoung’s expression darkened, clearly offended. “Low blow, dude.”

Yunho chuckled. “Hey, I didn’t say that’s what they actually meant. Just a possibility, you know? Sometimes, people go through things that they don’t think others can relate to. It’s not always about intelligence. It’s about experience and perspective. Maybe this person just feels like you haven’t been through what they’re dealing with.”

Wooyoung remained silent for a few seconds, considering the possibilities behind your statement earlier being what Yunho was explaining to him.

He found himself thinking too deeply about it, which puzzled him even more. He and his friends knew you as that one quiet, smart photojournalist who never seemed to smile and hated everyone who wasn’t Yeosang. You were an enigma to him, someone who always seemed to float above the petty dramas and trivial concerns that occupied most students’ lives. He had always thought you were just like that because you didn’t know how to have fun with your life, or maybe you just chose not to. To Wooyoung, you were a constant—a fixture in the background who never wavered or showed any sign of vulnerability.

So seeing you in such a vulnerable state earlier left him perplexed, hence why he was deep in thought about it. The image of you sitting alone on the bleachers, tears silently falling, replayed in his mind. He couldn’t reconcile that image with the stoic, composed person he’d always seen you as. It didn’t make sense. People who didn’t care about anything or anyone weren’t supposed to break down like that, right?

He wondered if he had misjudged you all along. Maybe there was more to your story than he had ever considered. Maybe your silence and apparent disdain for others were a shield, protecting you from something he couldn’t see. The thought left him unsettled. It challenged his perception of you and, by extension, of himself.

Was he really so shallow that he couldn’t see beyond the surface? Had he been too quick to dismiss you as just another uptight overachiever who couldn’t loosen up? The more he thought about it, the more he realized how little he actually knew about you. He didn’t know what your interests were, what made you laugh, or what made you cry—except now he knew you did cry, and that knowledge gnawed at him.

Yunho noticed his friend’s unusual silence and gently nudged him. “Hey, you okay? You look like you’re lost in your own head.”

Wooyoung blinked, snapping out of his reverie. “Yeah, I’m good. Just... thinking.”

Yunho gave him a curious look. “About the ‘hypothetical’ person?”

Wooyoung nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, she—I mean, they—always seemed so... untouchable. Like nothing could get to them. It was weird, you know, seeing someone like that break down.”

Yunho tilted his head, observing Wooyoung’s troubled expression. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe they’re not as untouchable as you think. Sometimes the people who seem the strongest are the ones carrying the heaviest of burdens. There are layers to everyone’s lives—the only reason it often doesn’t seem like it is because people tend to only show to the masses what they want them to see, and not the whole picture.”

Wooyoung remained silent, absorbing Yunho’s words. He found himself questioning his previous assumptions about you, wondering if there was more to your story than he had ever considered. He felt a strange mix of curiosity and guilt. Curiosity about what lay beneath your stoic exterior and guilt for having judged you so harshly without ever trying to understand you.

—

Is it possible to still feel lonely, even when you’re surrounded by a swarm of people at all times?

No matter what the answer to that question would be, one thing’s for sure—Wooyoung has not even a single idea of what it is. It’s an unanswered thought that has never left his mind the moment it first made its way inside. Sure, he’s deemed the star athlete of the campus, sure, pairs of eyes follow him regardless of which hall he decides to walk on, sure, he’s got the life of the party—but despite all that, why does he still feel like there’s something missing? Why does being full still make him feel empty, somehow?

His thoughts drifted back to the field, to you, the stoic photojournalist who seemed to see right through his façade. Despite your brief and antagonistic interactions, there was something about you that intrigued him. You seemed immune to his charms, treating him with a mixture of disdain and indifference. It was refreshing, in a way, to be seen as just another person rather than some sort of campus celebrity to gawk at.

But at the same time, he found himself oddly looking way too deep into the moment that occured back in the field a while ago. Your words kept echoing in his mind constantly, whether it was during the times he’d be lacing his shoes up or those when he’d be staring at the void of which is nowhere during class.

“It’s not like someone like you would understand, anyway.”

He wondered what you meant by that. Mulling over the two possible reasons Yunho suggested, he had a feeling it was a mixture of both. He wondered if you were experiencing something similar to him—he wondered just how similar your worlds were to each other.

Weeks had passed since that encounter you had with Wooyoung, and in that time, you had perfected the art of avoidance. The mere thought of facing him, of the possibility that he might mention that moment, sent a chill down your spine. You couldn’t bear the idea that he had seen a glimpse of a part of you that was meant to stay hidden, especially someone who, in your mind, lived in an entirely different world.

Every time you passed the field, you felt a pang of anxiety. You had meticulously planned your days to avoid any chance of running into the football team, sticking to routes and schedules that would keep you as far away from them as possible. The thought of Wooyoung seeing you cry gnawed at you, an incessant reminder of your vulnerability.

The irony wasn’t lost on you. The fact that Wooyoung was gullible enough to have the guts to ask you what could possibly make him different from you made you fume each time the thought would cross your mind. The answer couldn’t have been any more obvious—everything. He lived a life surrounded by admiration and camaraderie, while you navigated through solitary achievements and quiet struggles. It wasn’t just a matter of different worlds; it was a matter of fundamentally different experiences.

At home, you tried to lose yourself in your work, burying your emotions under layers of assignments and projects. Yet, despite your best efforts, the memory of that afternoon clung to you. You felt exposed, as if a spotlight had been cast on your most private pain, and Wooyoung had seen it all. It was a feeling you couldn’t shake, and it left you feeling raw and vulnerable.

Yeosang had noticed the change in you. “You’re avoiding the team more than usual,” he remarked one afternoon as you both sat in the library. “What’s going on?”

“They’re just getting more irritating,” you replied, keeping your eyes on your notebook. “I can’t stand their antics anymore.”

He looked at you skeptically but didn’t push further. If you wanted to tell him about it, you would. There was no necessity to pressure you at all. “Makes sense.”

“Oh, by the way, a new café called ‘Heavenly Brews’ or something just opened up a few blocks away from our university’s building. Wanna check it out later? It’s the talk of the town lately.”

You nodded, grateful for his understanding but unwilling to delve into the real reason behind your avoidance. The truth was too complicated, too painful to articulate. The incident with Wooyoung had left a bruise on your pride, one that you weren’t ready to expose, even to Yeosang.

In the weeks that followed, you threw yourself into your studies, hoping that academic rigor would drown out the thoughts of Wooyoung and the vulnerability he had witnessed. You kept avoiding the field and any place where the football team might be, crafting your life into a careful routine that kept you far from them.

One late afternoon, as you packed up your camera after a long shoot, Yeosang approached you with concern etched on his face. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone,” he said gently. “Maybe you should take a break.”

You forced yourself to answer. “I’m fine, really. Just a lot going on.”

No, you weren’t. There were circles under your eyes. You no longer seemed to put an effort in tidying up your appearance as you usually would. Your patience has turned into a ticking time bomb. You weren’t fine at all.

But you had to be.

He sighed, clearly not convinced yet not wanting to push you further. “Just remember, I’m here if you need to talk. About anything.”

“I know,” you replied, hoping he couldn’t see the cracks forming in your façade.

As you walked home that day, the weight of your secrets and the memory of that vulnerable moment threatened to overwhelm you. You knew you couldn’t keep running forever. Sooner or later, you would have to confront the emotions you were trying so hard to bury, and when that moment came, you hoped you’d find the strength to face it.

And it seems as if that very moment was now finally getting to see the light of day.

Sitting in Mr. Kim’s office, you tried to keep your composure as he sifted through a stack of papers on his desk. The dim light of the room and the cluttered desk made the atmosphere feel heavy. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding.

“Do you remember the pictures you took of the football team for Yeosang’s article about the daily lives of student athletes?” Mr. Kim asked, finally looking up.

You nodded, your mind flashing back to that exhausting day. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I showed them to the dean,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a small smile. “And she loved them. In fact, she loved them so much that she wanted to see those shots published in some sort of newspaper or magazine.”

A rush of excitement surged through you. It was rare to receive such high praise, and even rarer for the dean to take a personal interest in your work. Despite the bubbling joy within, you maintained your composure, listening intently as Mr. Kim spoke.

“That’s great news,” you managed to say, keeping your tone neutral.

“There’s more,” Mr. Kim continued, his smile fading into a more serious expression. “In order to make the dean’s wishes come true, I’m planning to actually publish a magazine. And for that, we need more than just photos.”

You felt a knot forming in your stomach as he spoke. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to interview a football player for the feature,” he said, his eyes fixed on you.

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. Of all the assignments, this was the one you dreaded the most. Interviewing a football player meant spending time with the very people you had been avoiding, the ones who lived in a different world from yours, the ones who had no idea what your life was like. At this point, you’re starting to think Mr. Kim is absolutely out of touch with reality. He never seems to realize how much he’s working you out—and even if he did, at some point, you highly doubt he’d ever care.

He never even dares to do anything for the sake of you and the other members of the publication. All that matters to him is his reputation won’t be tainted, all that matters to him is his fellow faculty personnel praising him for ‘training’ the student journalists well. Once anyone tries to ask about the hardships you face for the sake of his image, he’s dead silent as if he was born with a mouth meant to only open to speak well of himself.

“But, Mr. Kim...” you started, trying to find a way out of this.

He raised a hand to stop you. “I know you’re not thrilled about it, but you’re the best person for the job. Your photos were impressive, and I believe your interview can be just as great.”

Of course he only cares about the final result. That’s how things have always been. But each time you get reminded of it, you still always end up finding it in you to stay. There was no way you were going to let a lazy man pushing his 50’s ruin your passion for you.

You swallowed hard, feeling cornered. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” he said, with no hint of apology in his voice. “This is a big opportunity, not just for you, but for our entire publication. I trust you can handle it.”

Our, and yet you’ve done things for the publication more than he ever has.

“Which player?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“That’s up to you,” Mr. Kim said. “Choose the one you think will provide the most compelling story. But remember, I’m expecting something exceptional from you.”

You nodded wordlessly, the weight of the new assignment settling heavily on your shoulders. The initial joy of the dean’s praise was overshadowed by the dread of what lay ahead.

“Alright,” you said, standing up. “I’ll get to work on it.”

As you left Mr. Kim’s office, your mind raced with endless thoughts. The joy you had felt moments earlier was now buried under layers of anxiety and frustration. You had been avoiding the football team for weeks, and now, you were being thrust back into their world with a responsibility you couldn’t escape.

Walking through the halls, you tried to think of a strategy. Who could you interview? Who would be willing to share their story, and more importantly, who could you tolerate enough to spend time with?

As you approached your locker, you saw Yeosang leaning against it, waiting for you. He noticed the troubled look on your face immediately.

“Hey, what’s up? You look troubled,” he said, concern evident in his voice.

You sighed and began recounting everything about the conversation you had with Mr. Kim. “Remember when I took photos of the football team for your sports article?”

“Yeah, I do. Why?” he asked, tilting his head as he had no idea where this conversation would lead to.

“Mr. Kim showed those photos to the dean, and she loved them,” you started, watching Yeosang’s eyes light up with pride for you. “She even said she’d love to read a magazine of the university’s football team if those shots were to be included.”

“That’s amazing!” Yeosang beamed, but his excitement dimmed when he saw you weren't sharing his enthusiasm. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s more,” you continued. “Mr. Kim wants to make the dean’s wishes come true by actually publishing a magazine. And for that, he wants me to interview one of the football players.”

Yeosang’s face fell into a more serious expression. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I don’t know who to choose. I don’t know enough about any of them to know if they’ll be insufferable during the interview or not,” you said, frustration creeping into your voice.

Yeosang thought for a moment before suggesting, “What about Hongjoong? He seems to be the most wise and logical of them all. He’s like their team’s ‘captain,’ anyway, so it makes sense to interview him.”

You looked at him, skeptical. “I don’t even know how to contact him.”

“Why else do you think would I have suggested interviewing Hongjoong if I wasn’t prepared beforehand?”

“Huh?”

With a smile, Yeosang pulled out his phone and handed it to you, displaying Hongjoong’s contact information.

Confused and surprised, you asked, “Now… why on earth do you have Hongjoong’s number?”

Yeosang chuckled. “I’m a sports writer. Of course, I’d have his and the team’s numbers.”

You shook your head, slightly amused. “It would’ve been way better for you to be the one conducting the interview instead.”

“But it’s not me, is it?" Yeosang replied, gently nudging your shoulder. “Mr. Kim entrusted this task to you for a reason. Don’t doubt yourself.”

The moment you got home after school, you wasted no time in sending a message to Hongjoong.

“Hey, Hongjoong. This is the head photojournalist of our school’s publication. I hope you’re doing well. I’m reaching out because we’re working on a magazine about the daily lives of student athletes, and for this feature, I need to conduct an interview with a member of the football team. If you don’t mind, would you be available for it this Friday?”

Truth be told, you had no idea how the interview would play out. The thought of sitting down with a football team member filled you with a mixture of dread and anxiety. You hoped Hongjoong would agree to your request, sparing you the need to approach any other football player. You couldn’t shake the fear that Wooyoung had told his teammates about your vulnerable moment by the bleachers. The idea of facing any of them, knowing they might be aware of your breakdown, was unbearable.

You desperately wanted Hongjoong to agree, not just because he seemed the most approachable, but because the alternatives were too daunting to consider. The mere thought of interacting with the rest of the team made your stomach churn.

Meanwhile, at Jongho’s apartment, the football team was scattered around the living room. Hongjoong received your message and decided to share it with the group.

“Hey, everyone, listen up,” Hongjoong called out, standing in the middle of the room. “I just got a message from the head photojournalist of the journalism club. She said she had to interview one of us for a magazine about student athletes—a task from Mr. Kim, it seems.”

Seonghwa looked up from his phone, curiosity piqued. “Just how many more articles about us is that old man planning on publishing? Did she say who she wants to interview, anyway?”

Hongjoong shook his head. “Well, she asked if I was available, so I can only guess it’s me.”

“When’s it set?” Mingi asked. He was not planning on volunteering for the interview in case Hongjoong would not be available at all, but he just wanted to know.

“The interview is set for this Friday. I’ve got a meeting scheduled with the dean on the very same day, though.” Hongjoong explained. “Is anyone else free?”

San, lounging on the couch, quickly spoke up. “I’ve got a family occasion I can’t skip. Sorry, can’t do it.”

“Same here,” Jongho added. “My cousins are coming over, and I’m stuck entertaining them.”

Seonghwa sighed. “I’ve got a major project due next week. I’ll be buried in the library all weekend.”

Yunho, who had been half-listening while playing a game on his phone, shrugged. “I’ve got practice for another sport. Busy all day Friday.”

Mingi chimed in lazily, sprawled across an armchair. “An interview sounds like too much work. I’d rather just chill.”

“We’ve got everyone having valid reasons for not being available, and you’re out here saying you can’t do it because you’d rather chill?”

Just as a bickering session between Mingi and Hongjoong was about to bloom, Wooyoung emerged from Jongho’s room, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice still groggy as he had just woken up.

Hongjoong turned to him, hopeful. “Hey, Woo. Are you free this Friday?”

Wooyoung nodded, still processing his surroundings. He squinted his eyes while being lost in thought, trying to recall if he had anything planned for that day. Once he was certain the date on his calendar was blank, he traced his gaze back to Hongjoong. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

Hongjoong handed him the phone, showing him your message. “The head photojournalist wants to do an interview for a magazine about student athletes. She asked if I was available, but if you’re free, maybe you can do it instead since I’ve got something else scheduled on Friday this week.”

Wooyoung glanced at the message blankly, looking at the top of the phone screen to check Hongjoong’s low battery percentage first before finally getting himself to focus and read the message from an unknown contact. “Photo girl?”

“If that’s what you call her, then yeah.”

“Sure, I can do it,” he said, handing the phone back to Hongjoong. “No problem.”

“Great,” Hongjoong said, patting him on the back. “I’ll let her know.”

“Your phone’s about to shut down, by the way.”

After a few minutes of impatiently waiting, your phone screen finally lit up as your notification went off. When you read the message on your phone, a sigh escaped your lips.

“Hey, I’m really sorry, but it looks like the rest of the team and I are unavailable on the day you set for the interview. Here’s a rundown: San has a family event that he can't miss, Seonghwa has a big exam the next day and needs to study, Jongho’s cousins are visiting, and he has to show them around, Mingi said he’s too lazy and doesn't want to do it, Yunho’s got some extra training sessions scheduled, and I have a meeting with the dean that I can't reschedule. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

When you said you didn’t want to interview any of them, you didn’t mean... this. How were you supposed to conduct the interview for the magazine now? You certainly couldn’t afford to disappoint Mr. Kim again.

Then you saw Hongjoong typing again, and the moment his next message arrived, you felt another wave of dread wash over you.

“Wooyoung is available on that day, though, so you could interview him instead. Would that be alright with you?”

Your heart sank.

This was exactly what you had been dreading. The last person you wanted to spend any time with, let alone conduct a one-on-one interview with, was Wooyoung. The thought of facing him again, especially after he had seen you in a vulnerable state, was something you couldn’t handle.

You desperately clung to the hope that maybe some of the others’ reasons for not being available would fall through. Maybe San’s family event would get postponed, or Jongho’s cousins would cancel. You didn’t want this. It felt like a cruel twist of fate.

But deep down, you knew you didn’t have a choice. You couldn’t risk disappointing Mr. Kim and the dean or tarnishing the reputation of the publication. You knew the value of the activity, even if you hated it. Your commitment to your work and the expectations placed on you left you with no other option.

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine with me.”

You sent the message, even though every fiber of your being was stressing over the impending interview. The uncertainty of how it would go and the anxiety of facing Wooyoung again weighed heavily on you.

Yet, you had to push through and maintain your professionalism, no matter how difficult it might be, your words from a conversation you had with Yeosang a while ago echoing in your head.

There’s no way I’ll ever let my personal feelings get in the way of my duties.

You didn’t know for sure how longer you could hold out until you’d eventually betray yourself, and you certainly didn’t want to find out.

—

It was now Friday.

You had scheduled the interview with Wooyoung after school, ensuring that no one would interrupt and ruin things for you. You had informed Hongjoong of the time and place, opting to avoid the trouble of negotiating with an airheaded Wooyoung. The field, usually bustling with activity, would be quieter in the late afternoon, providing a suitable backdrop for your interview.

This was the first time in your life you wished for your classes to last longer, hoping to stretch the gap between the time now and the schedule for the interview. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus while your professor endlessly droned on; your mind was preoccupied with how you would handle the upcoming encounter. You resolved to be more closed off and professional, determined to keep the interview strictly business so that there would be no room for Wooyoung to bring up your breakdown by the bleachers weeks ago.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the last class, you felt an overwhelming urge to just stay inside the classroom as you’d melt away in your seat forever until you’re gradually reduced to nothing but a soaked spot on the floor. But you couldn’t. You had responsibilities to fulfill, and most importantly, expectations to live up to.

You arrived at the field, where the setting sun cast long shadows across the grass. The air was cooler, and the usual buzz of student activity had quieted down, with only a few students still inside of the school building. You spotted Wooyoung near the bleachers, casually leaning against a post, his carefree demeanor unchanged. On the bridge of his nose sat a colorful bandage, and for a moment, you wonder whether he had a small cut on that area or if he simply stamped it on his face for a fun little look. Knowing him, it was most likely the latter.

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, clutching your notebook and pen. Wooyoung noticed you and straightened up, a playful smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, ready for the interrogation?” he teased, but you kept your expression neutral. “Let’s get started,” you said briskly, flipping open your notebook. “I want to make sure we cover everything efficiently.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at your tone but didn’t comment further. “Alright, shoot.”

“How long have you been playing football?” you began with a simple question, your pen poised to jot down his answer.

“Since I was a kid, about six or seven,” he replied, leaning back slightly. “My dad used to take me to the park every weekend, and we’d mick the ball around. Those moments are some of my best memories. Ever since then, football became my escape, my way of expressing myself when words weren’t enough.”

You scribbled down his answer and quickly moved to the next question, opting for one that a lot of other people would relate to—at least you hope they would. “What do you think is the most challenging part of being a student-athlete?”

“Hmm,” Wooyoung leaned back, thinking. “Balancing academics and sports is tough. There are days when you feel like you can’t handle both, but you push through because you love the game. It’s about discipline, really. There are times I stay up late studying after a grueling practice, and times I miss out on social events because I have to train. But at the end of the day, it’s all worth it when you’re on the field, giving it your all.”

He threw in a joke about juggling books and balls, but you crossed it off your notes. Wooyoung noticed it, making him gasp. “Why did you cross that out? It was a good joke!”

It really wasn’t.

“This is for a professional interview,” you replied simply. “I can’t include your stand-up routine.”

As you continued asking questions, Wooyoung's carefree demeanor gradually shifted. He gave more serious, thoughtful answers that revealed a depth you hadn’t expected at all.

“Why do you think teamwork is important?” you asked.

“Teamwork is everything,” Wooyoung said earnestly. “No matter how skilled an individual player is, it’s the team itself that starts the gamble on whether you’ll win a game or not. Trusting each other, understanding each other’s strengths and weaknesses—that’s what makes a team strong. We push each other to be better, and we cover for each other’s mistakes. In life and on the field, you need people you can rely on, and who can rely on you.”

You noted his answer, feeling a flicker of surprise at his sincerity. This definitely didn't sound like the annoying star athlete you had always pegged him as. And it was strange. It was like seeing an entirely new side of him—and to be fair, that’s quite what’s actually happening.

“What are your future aspirations in football?” you continued, trying to keep the momentum.

“I want to go pro, of course,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “But more than that, I want to inspire younger kids. Show them that with hard work and passion, they can achieve their dreams. Football taught me a lot about resilience, about fighting for what you want. If I can pass that on to the next generation, I’ll consider my career a success.”

You paused, glancing up at him. “That’s a very noble goal.” You didn’t have to say that, but you did.

“Thanks,” Wooyoung said, smiling. “Football gave me a lot. It’s only fair I give something back.”

The interview progressed smoothly, and you found yourself begrudgingly impressed by his maturity and insight. It was as if a different side of Wooyoung had emerged, one that was thoughtful and introspective. Throughout the interview, you kept stealing glances at his bandage, trying to decipher what design it had without being too obvious.

“Do you have any pre-game rituals or superstitions?” you asked, curious.

Wooyoung chuckled. “Oh, definitely. You know, I have this pair of socks I wore for every game back in high school. They’ve got holes in them, and my mom kept threatening to throw them out, but I couldn’t, because I wanted to keep it so bad back then—well, that was my past superstition. Right now, I always listen to the same playlist before a match—it’s a mix of hype songs and calm tracks to get me in the zone.”

You couldn't help but be amused by his answer, subtly looking down to see if he was wearing those socks in question—mentally sighing in relief when you were sure enough he wasn’t. “I suppose I’ll have to leave out the part about the socks.”

“Hey, those socks are legendary!" he protested, but you shook your head.

As you wrapped up, you asked one final question, “Any advice for students who are struggling to balance their academics and extracurricular activities?”

Wooyoung looked thoughtful. “Find your passion and let it drive you. It’s going to be tough, but if you love what you do, it’ll all be worth it. And don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it. No one gets through life alone. Whether it’s friends, family, or teachers, there are always people willing to support you. Lean on them when you need to, and don’t be too hard on yourself. Everyone struggles; it's how you handle it that defines you.”

His answer to the final question hit you on a level more personal than you ever would’ve expected it to, but you couldn’t afford to let it show.

The interview was done, but you felt a lingering sense of unfinished business. Closing your notebook, you decided to ask him another question, one that wouldn’t make it into the article but that you needed answered for your own peace of mind.

“Hey, Wooyoung, can I ask you something off the record?” you said, your tone softer and more hesitant than before.

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sure, what’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “Why do you keep pretending everything is perfect? I mean, you always seem so carefree and happy, but... is it really like that?”

Wooyoung's playful demeanor faded, replaced by a more serious expression. He leaned back against the bleachers, gazing out at the field before speaking.

“Everyone thinks my life is perfect—it appears even you do, but hey, I don’t blame you for it,” he began slowly. “It’s just that the truth is, it’s actually far from it. Well, yeah, I joke around and try to keep things light, but that’s just my way of coping, you know? There’s a lot of pressure being the person everyone expects to be happy and successful all the time."

You listened intently, feeling a pang of empathy. It was like hearing your thoughts from a perspective that wasn’t the same as yours, yet was not as different either.

“Behind the scenes, it’s not always as great as it looks,” Wooyoung continued. "I have my own struggles too. There’s the constant pressure to perform, to keep up my grades, to maintain this image. Sometimes, it feels like I’m just pretending to be someone I’m not. It’s exhausting.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And then there’s my family. They expect a lot from me, and I don’t want to let them down. But sometimes, I feel like I’m living their dreams instead of my own. I guess... I just try to make the best of it, you know? If I can make people laugh and forget their problems for a while, maybe it makes mine a little easier to bear.”

You were silent for a moment, absorbing his words. This wasn't the Wooyoung you were used to seeing—the carefree, confident athlete. This was someone who, like you, carried his own burdens and insecurities.

You’ve always held a great amount of resentment towards him because you thought it was unfair for him to be living a life so colorful while you were trapped within the confines of which is your very own self. You hated hearing him laugh because it would do nothing but remind you of your silent cries deep in the night. You hated seeing him smile because all it does is flash an image of the natural frown your lips always wore in your head.

But after finding out just what he hid behind the curtains and just how similar you were to each other despite standing in different lights, you figured there was no longer any reason to continue to hate him—none in the first place—because if you continued to, it would only mean hating a part of yourself as well.

“I never would have guessed,” you admitted, albeit hesitantly, making Wooyoung let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, that’s exactly the goal I’m aiming for.” He shrugged, looking down to his shoes on the floor while he swayed a foot back and forth.

“I get that a lot.”

“So why do you keep pretending that nothing affects you?”

Before the interview, you had resolved to keep everything strictly professional. But now, after hearing Wooyoung’s candid revelations, you felt a shift inside. The idea of maintaining that professional distance seemed less important. Finding out that Wooyoung wasn’t so different from you had extinguished the fire of hate you once felt for him.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question. He noticed this and quickly added, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

But you did want to answer. You really, really did. The words just felt heavy on your tongue, and you struggled to find the right way to express them, is all.

“It's not easy,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always felt like I had to be perfect. Growing up, people relied on me so much that I started believing my worth was tied to my ability to solve their problems and never show my own.”

Wooyoung nodded silently to show you he was listening, his expression encouraging you to continue.

“Being perfect became my shield,” you said, staring at the grass as you spoke. “If I didn’t show any cracks, no one would see how much I was struggling. But it also meant I couldn’t afford to let anyone in. I couldn’t let anyone see that I wasn’t as strong as they thought I was.”

You let out a deep exhale, feeling the weight of your own words. “It gets lonely, you know? Always having to be the one who has it all together. People think I don’t have any problems because I don't show them, but the truth is... it’s just easier that way. If I start showing my vulnerabilities, I’m afraid everything will fall apart.”

Wooyoung listened intently, his eyes reflecting understanding and empathy. “I get that,” he said softly. “It’s like, if you let one crack show, the whole facade might crumble.”

“Exactly,” you replied, feeling a strange sense of relief at his understanding. “It’s exhausting, though. Sometimes I wish I could just... be myself. But I don’t even know who that is anymore.”

“Be nobody, then.”

There was a moment of silence as his words hung in the air.

“What?” you asked, not quite understanding.

“Be nobody,” he repeated, his tone thoughtful. “I mean, stop trying to fit into the mold of who you think you should be. Don’t worry about being perfect or living up to everyone’s expectations. Just... be. You don’t have to be somebody all the time, you know? Let go of all the roles and responsibilities for a moment. Be nobody, with no expectations and no pressure. It’s freeing.”

You stared at him, processing his words. “It’s easier said than done.”

“Well, yeah, it really is,” Wooyoung admitted. “But start small. Give yourself permission to not have all the answers, to not always be the strong one. Find moments where you can just exist without any labels or duties. For me, it’s when I’m on the field. I lose myself in those moments, and it feels like a break from everything else.”

His words resonated with you. The idea of just being, without the weight of expectations, sounded almost too good to be true. “But what if everything falls apart?”

“Then let it,” Wooyoung said with a small smile. “Sometimes things need to fall apart so they can come back together in a better way. And you don't have to do it alone. Lean on people you trust. Even if it's just one person, it makes a difference.”

—

You found yourself spending more time in the field than usual.

Following Wooyoung’s advice, you attempted to let go of your responsibilities, allowing yourself to simply be and do what made you happy rather than what needed to be done. But it was harder than you thought. You had become so accustomed to striving for perfection that you had forgotten what it felt like to make mistakes. You were so used to always being at your highest that your feet could no longer reach the lowest, and it was suffocating.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Looking towards the direction of the voice, you saw Wooyoung holding a football, a smile on his face. “How’s the nobody journey going for you?”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head slightly. “It’s... difficult. Harder than I thought it would be.”

He walked over and sat down beside you, placing the football between his feet. “Yeah, it’s not something that happens overnight. But hey, it’s a process. You don’t have to get it right immediately.”

“I’ve been trying,” you admitted, your voice tinged with frustration. “But I’m so used to being perfect, to not making mistakes. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to cut myself some slack.”

Wooyoung nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I get that. When you’re used to always being on top, it feels like you can’t afford to slip, even a little. But that’s exactly why it’s important to let yourself be imperfect sometimes. It’s the only way to really breathe.”

You glanced at him, appreciating his empathy. “How do you do it? How do you find those moments to just be nobody?”

He shrugged, looking out at the field. “I find activities that let me lose myself. For me, it’s playing football—but you probably already know that, or even just hanging out with friends without any pressure. It’s about finding little pockets of freedom in your day.”

You nodded slowly, trying to take his advice to heart. “I guess I need to find my own pockets of freedom.”

Wooyoung smiled, nudging you with his shoulder. “How about we play football together?”

“Huh?”

You hesitated, feeling a bit on edge. The idea of playing football seemed so far from your comfort zone. “I’m not really... experienced with that. And what good would playing football with you do?”

He grinned, unfazed by your reluctance. “It’ll probably be a good way for you to loosen up. You don’t have to be good at it. Just kick the ball around, have some fun. No expectations, no pressure. It’s a chance to be nobody, remember?”

You frowned, still uncertain. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been the type to do such things.”

“And that’s exactly why you should try it,” he countered. “It’s not about being the best or even being good. It’s about doing something different, letting go, and just enjoying the moment. Come on, what do you have to lose?”

You sighed, feeling the weight of your hesitations. But his enthusiasm was contagious, and a part of you yearned for that freedom he talked about. “Alright, fine. But don’t laugh at me if I mess up.”

“Deal.”

You and Wooyoung got off the bleachers and walked onto the field. The grass felt soft under your feet, the evening sun casting long shadows. Wooyoung placed the football on the ground and turned to you with an encouraging smile.

“Alright, let’s start with the basics,” he said. Wooyoung placed the football down and began explaining with a focused expression. “So, there are different types of kicks in football. The most basic one is the inside-of-the-foot kick, which is good for short passes. You want to strike the ball with the inner part of your foot like this.” He demonstrated, tapping the ball lightly with the side of his foot.

“You can also use the top of your foot for a more powerful kick, like when you’re trying to shoot for a goal.” He took a step back and swung his leg, striking the ball with the laces of his shoe, sending it flying a few meters away. “See? More power.”

Nodding, you tried to absorb the information. “Okay, inside of the foot for control, top of the foot for power. Got it.”

“Exactly,” Wooyoung said, retrieving the ball. “Now, let’s talk about dribbling. Dribbling is all about keeping the ball close to your feet while you move. You want to use small touches to guide the ball and keep it under control. Like this.” He began moving around you, tapping the ball lightly with each step, keeping it close to his feet.

“Try to keep your knees slightly bent and your body low,” he continued. “It’ll help you change directions quickly and keep the ball close.”

You watched closely, then attempted to mimic his movements. Your first try was clumsy, sending the ball away from you. Bracing yourself for the inevitable teasing, you were surprised when Wooyoung didn’t laugh or make fun of you. Instead, he smiled warmly.

“That’s not quite it. Here, I’ll demonstrate for you,” he said, jogging after the ball and bringing it back, showing you how to correct your stance and control your touches.

“Remember, small touches,” he encouraged. “Don’t be afraid to move with the ball. It’s like dancing. Feel the rhythm.”

After a few more attempts, you started to get the hang of it. “Alright, I think I’m getting it.”

Wooyoung grinned. “You’re doing great! Now, let’s combine the dribbling with the kicking. Try dribbling a few steps and then pass the ball back to me using the inside of your foot.”

You followed his instructions, managing a somewhat decent dribble before passing the ball back. Wooyoung received it with ease and nodded in approval. “Nice job! You’re improving already.”

Despite your initial hesitance, you found yourself enjoying the practice. Wooyoung’s patient guidance and genuine enthusiasm made it easier to let go of your usual reservations.

As Wooyoung continued to explain the different techniques and strategies of football, you found yourself increasingly impressed by his knowledge and passion. It was evident that he practically breathed football. Every word he spoke was filled with an enthusiasm that was contagious, and his demonstrations were executed with such skill and precision that you couldn’t help but be in awe.

It struck you that Wooyoung wasn’t just good at football—he was exceptional. Watching him move with such ease and confidence, you realized that this wasn’t just a sport to him; it was a way of life. His dedication and love for the game were palpable, and it was inspiring to see someone so genuinely committed to something they cared about.

This new perspective was enlightening. Where you once harbored resentment and annoyance, you now saw a depth and passion that was impossible to ignore. It made you reconsider your previous judgments and feel a newfound sense of liking for him.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that Wooyoung had stopped talking. He waved his hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Hey, earth to you. Are you still with me?” he teased, a playful grin on his face.

You blinked, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. I’m listening. Go on.”

Already encouraged by your progress, he continued explaining. “There’s also the outside-of-the-foot kick, which is great for bending passes or shots. You strike the ball with the outside edge of your foot. It takes a bit more practice to get the curve right.” He demonstrated with a swift kick, sending the ball curving gently to the side.

“Whoa, that’s cool,” you remarked, impressed.

“Yeah, it’s pretty handy. And for dribbling, you can use all parts of your foot—inside, outside, even the sole. It’s all about control and keeping the ball moving with you.”

You practiced these new techniques under his watchful eye. Each attempt brought a new correction or piece of advice from Wooyoung, who remained encouraging throughout. His dedication to helping you improve was surprising, and for the first time, you felt a connection beyond the usual frustrations and misunderstandings.

After another try at dribbling and kicking, Wooyoung clapped his hands together. “That’s it! You’re really getting the hang of this. Alright, so now, I’ll show you how to score a goal—”

“I know how a goal is scored, Wooyoung,” you interjected, although a little amused.

Awkwardly chuckling, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, right.”

Clearing his throat, he went back to the topic at hand in order to save himself from embarrassment. After Wooyoung finished his explanations, you both moved on to play together. You hesitated at first, still uncertain about whether you should do what you were about to. Sensing your reluctance, Wooyoung offered a reassuring smile.

“Remember, this is all about letting go of everything, alright?” he reminded you gently.

You both started kicking the ball around, your initial movements tentative. Wooyoung kept the ball rolling slowly toward you, encouraging you with gentle nods.

“Just give it a light tap,” he instructed as the ball rolled to your feet.

You swung your leg and sent the ball wobbling in an unexpected direction. Instinctively, you glanced at Wooyoung, expecting laughter just like how you did earlier, but he just smiled and jogged over to retrieve it—just like how he did earlier.

You gave it a shot once more, trying to replicate his past movements. The ball seemed to have a mind of its own, but Wooyoung's encouraging words kept you going. “You’re doing great, alright? Just keep practicing those small touches.”

Eventually, you started to get the hang of it, and Wooyoung suggested a simple game. “Let’s see if you can get past me and score a goal.”

A bit of your initial hesitation returned, but you nodded. “Okay, I'll try.”

The two of you began to play more energetically. Wooyoung lets you get the ball first, challenging you to maneuver around him. You were barely managing to keep the ball at your feet, but Wooyoung was always there, offering pointers and occasionally stealing the ball only to pass it back to you with a playful grin.

“Come on, you got this!” he encouraged.

You finally found a rhythm, dribbling the ball toward the goal. Wooyoung stayed close, but he wasn't making it too hard. When you took a shot and scored, he laughed excitedly and jogged over to you, his hand raised for a high five. “Nice one! That was awesome!”

Surprised, you mimicked his actions, raising your hand awkwardly. When he slapped his palm against yours in a celebratory high five, you were taken aback by the simple but genuine gesture.

“See? You're getting the hang of it,” he said, his eyes shining with pride.

The game continued, each moment building on the last, with both of you enjoying the newfound experience and the simple act of playing for fun. As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the field, you realized that for the first time in a long while, you were genuinely enjoying yourself.

For once, you were nobody.

—

You haven’t talked to Wooyoung days after playing football with him on the field, but you figured it made complete sense for things to be this way. You seem to only run into him during the times you felt like you wanted to be nobody, and at the times when you had to be somebody, he was completely out of your line of sight. Maybe that’s how things are meant to be, so you never really gave it any thought. On a few moments, however, you find yourself wondering if he’s holding out well, but you don’t quite understand why. You’ve been telling yourself it’s because you were just a concerned citizen at heart, but even that seems weird.

Unbeknownst to you, the exact same thoughts clouded Wooyoung’s mind. Whenever he and his team would conduct a practice match on the field, he’d find himself occasionally stealing glances at the bleachers, sighing to himself when he’s met with an empty sight. He doesn’t know why, but after spending a day being nobody with you, he figured those days would occur more often afterwards, so that’s precisely why he feels disappointed whenever he doesn’t see you sitting by the bleachers.

Opening your locker, you were about to reach for a textbook piled on top of others of its same kind yet covering different subject areas, but it wasn’t until you heard a laugh that was too familiar to you for your liking erupt from the end of the halls that you stopped dead in your motion, making Yeosang let out a confused hum.

“What’s up?”

You didn’t mutter out anything for an answer, immediately turning your head towards the direction you heard his voice from. And there he was, laughing loudly with his clapping hands echoing throughout the almost quiet surroundings while Mingi and San, who stood by either of his sides, seemed to have been cracking jokes back and forth.

The moment his eyes met yours, however, he was quicker than a millisecond to shut his mouth and forget just what exactly did Mingi respond to San’s awfully executed joke that made him laugh way more than he was probably supposed to. San, noticing the shift in his behavior, nudged his shoulder.

“What’s in your mind?”

Both you and Wooyoung avert your eyes from each other, you aggressively closing your locker shut before turning your attention back to Yeosang, whereas Wooyoung simply waved his hands off towards San.

“Nothing,” you both said in unison, unbeknownst to one another.

You were nearly losing your mind trying to figure out just how much you really knew yourself. You had told Yeosang nothing was up—but somehow, part of you refuses to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t the truth at all and was just something you wished you really meant.

Something was up, but you couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was.

“Nothing, huh?” Yeosang teased, eyeing you with a skeptical look. “Well, you better mean that because we can’t afford to have any distractions in our way this week.”

“This week?” You leaned against your locker with your brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“Yeah, it’s not like there’s anything new about that. We’re always busy at this very same week during this very same month every year,” he shrugged, making the left side of his jacket fall off on his shoulder, assuming you were only playing around.

“No, wait, Yeosang. What’s up?” you inquired, sounding genuinely curious—which caught him off guard.

“No way. Have you forgotten what always happens during this time of the year?”

“Clearly…?”

“The Autumn Harmony Festival. Any bells ringing in your head now?”

Ah, right.

Every year, the university holds a grand festival known as the “Autumn Harmony Festival.” It’s a long-standing tradition, celebrating the unity and diversity of the student body. The festival spans an entire weekend, featuring a variety of events that cater to different interests. There are music performances from student bands, dance shows, art exhibitions, food stalls representing cuisines from around the world, and games with prizes. Clubs and organizations set up booths to showcase their activities and recruit new members. The festival’s highlight is the cultural parade, where students wear traditional attire from their respective backgrounds, creating a vibrant and colorful spectacle. It's a time when the entire campus comes alive with laughter, music, and the aroma of delicious food wafting through the air. The event not only provides a break from academic pressures but also fosters a sense of community and belonging among the students.

“Oh,” you mused, eyes scanning the entire hallway. “Right.”

Yeosang audibly gasped—you’re unsure if he did it playfully or if he was seriously offended that you forgot about the annual festival, placing a hand on his hip. “Yeah, right. You seriously forgot?”

“Well…” you trailed off, sheepishly rubbing your nape. “I’ve been pretty busy, so I guess that’s why I kinda forgot about it.”

“Busy with what?”

That, you cannot answer. Not because you didn’t want to, yet rather because you had no idea how to. Was being busy due to your never ending thoughts even a valid reason to begin with?

“Just… things.”

“These things could either scale from being busy with your schoolwork to being busy with hunting down each football team within the shadows, so I’m just gonna pretend I never asked you what you’re busy with in the first place.”

“Do you actually think I’m capable of doing that?” you asked, mildly offended.

“Well, you never know which people here on campus would end up harboring murder tendencies on a random day,” he shrugged.

“I think we should just go back to talking about the festival before any passersby start looking at us weirdly.”

“Yeah, we probably should,” Yeosang agreed, looking around the halls. “Well, the journalism club will be having a meeting about it later today,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “You have the group chat on mute, remember? You don’t quite like everyone there other than me.”

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I forgot about that.”

Time passed quickly, and soon it was time for the journalism club meeting. You and Yeosang hurriedly headed to the club’s office, ready to discuss the festival coverage and immediately settling down the moment you both stepped foot inside.

“Alright,” Mr. Kim began speaking, clasping his hands together. “As you all know, the Autumn Harmony Festival is right around the corner. You might be wondering why conducting a meeting about it is necessary, but here’s the catch—for this year’s festival, the student council has bigger plans than usual, although they’re struggling with making all of it come true as they are quite short of people who can help them out. So…”

Silence engulfed the room, and by looking at everyone’s expressions alone, you could easily tell that they all knew where Mr. Kim was headed.

“The student council president, Karina, reached out to me to ask if we could lend them a hand. Of course, our duties and theirs do not differ that much from each other, so I figured accepting their proposal would not be a bad decision. That being said, we will be busier for the next few weeks. But of course, that doesn’t mean we’ll push our responsibilities to the side. We still need to publish an article the day after the festival, so I’m gonna need all of you to stay until the very last second of the event to document everything.”

You pursed your lips, hoping there wouldn’t be a further catch.

But much to your dismay, Mr. Kim continued speaking. “And for this year’s article, I’ve decided that our lead photojournalist will be the main one to cover the event.”

So much for wanting to stay in the shadows for once.

Just then, a noticeable shift occurred in the room. Eyebrows were raised, eyes were rolled, quiet sighs were released, and even few members exchanged knowing glances. No one said anything outright, but you could sense the undercurrent of resentment. You had always been observant, and this moment was no exception.

Suddenly, one of the members, Minjae, a junior who has always held a competitive soul, couldn’t contain his frustration. “Why is it always her?" he burst out, standing up as everyone turned their eyes towards him. “Every big assignment, it’s always her. What about the rest of us? Are we just not good enough?”

Yeosang quickly stood up to intervene. “Minjae, sit down. Now’s not the time—”

You gently tugged Yeosang back, making him sit down. He looked at you, confusion and concern etched on his face, but you met his gaze with a blank expression and a slight shake of your head, silently telling him to let Minjae continue speaking.

Mr. Kim tried to interject as well, “Minjae, this is not the way to handle—”

But he continued, ignoring Mr. Kim. “She acts like she’s better than all of us just because she takes good photos and aces her classes. It’s ridiculous! She’s not even a team player. She’s just Mr. Kim’s favorite. It’s like she’s the only one who matters. We’re all working hard here, but we never get the same recognition. Maybe if she shared the spotlight, we’d have a chance to show what we can do, too! If she actually bothered to socialize or help others instead of hogging all the work, we wouldn’t feel this way. But no, she’s too busy being the perfect little photojournalist, right?”

The final straw snapped. You slammed your hands on the table, the sound reverberating through the eerily silent room. Standing up abruptly, you walked over to Minjae and slapped him across the face. The force of the slap left a stinging red mark on his cheek, and everyone gasped, wide-eyed and shocked.

With venom in your voice, you finally spoke, “Maybe if you actually bothered to do your work properly, then I wouldn’t have to butt in to mend your mistakes every single time. You think I want to be here fixing your half-assed efforts? Think again. I do what I do because I care about this publication and our reputation. You, on the other hand, are too busy whining instead of actually contributing anything meaningful. You talk about being a team player? All you ever do is complain and shirk responsibility. You think you deserve the spotlight? Prove it. Until then, keep your mouth shut.”

Minjae stood there, stunned, unable to respond as you turned on your heel and walked out of the room. Yeosang quickly followed, but not before casting a scathing look at the others. “I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done,” he said, voice low and filled with disappointment.

Minjae, nursing his cheek, looked at Mr. Kim. “She hit me. There has to be some offense for that!”

Mr. Kim remained silent for a moment, then simply said, “Sit down, Minjae.”

Yeosang caught up with you in the hallway, gently tugging your arm. "Hey, wait up."

You shooed his hand away, turning around to face him calmly. “Go back to the office, please.”

He shook his head, concern etched on his face. “I’m not leaving you alone after that. You need someone right now.”

You sighed, a mix of frustration and exhaustion in your eyes. “But what if I want to be alone? What if that’s what I need?”

Yeosang hesitated but tried again. “I get that, but I can’t just—”

You gently pushed his shoulder back, giving it an affirming squeeze to let him know you weren’t mad at him. “Just leave me be for now, Yeo. I promise I’ll come by when I’m feeling lighter.”

He looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of anger towards him, but found none. With a reluctant nod, he pulled out a tiny crocheted voodoo doll with a keychain attached to it from his pocket. “Here, take this. In a way, you’ll still have me with you.”

You vividly recall him crocheting the doll during one of your sleepovers back in high school and being absolutely freaked out when you saw it hung by your ceiling fan the morning after. You still have no idea why he chose to crochet a voodoo doll out of everything else back then to this date—but then again, Yeosang has always been full of surprises, so much so to the point you’ve eventually learned to expect the unexpected from him at all times.

“You still have this?” you mused, hooking your index finger through the keychain and lifting it up.

“I thought it could be useful someday,” Yeosang shrugged. “Just… promise me you’ll let me know once you’re feeling better, alright?”

“I will, I promise.” You gave him an affirming nod before turning your heel, your form gradually decreasing in his point of view the further you walked away. You and your well-being meant the whole world to him, and he could only hope you felt the same way about yourself, too.

You don’t know where your feet are leading you, but the next thing you knew the moment you snapped out of your thoughts was that your line of sight was filled with greenery matched with the bright blue sky. The tranquility of the field provided a stark contrast to the tension you felt inside. You found a secluded spot on the bleachers and sat down, trying to clear your mind.

Just as you began to relax, a familiar voice broke the silence. “Hey, stranger.”

You looked up to see Wooyoung standing there, a warm smile on his face. He held a football under his arm.

“Wooyoung,” you said, your voice coming off as mildly surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He gestured to the rest of his team entering the field one by one. “We’re having a practice match.”

“Oh, right. Makes sense,” you replied, though your voice lacked its usual steadiness.

Wooyoung’s smile faded as he noticed the shift in your demeanor. To others, your expression might seem no different from usual, but somehow, Wooyoung could easily tell something was up. “What’s the matter?” he asked gently.

You shook your head lightly. “Nothing. Go to the field. It looks like your teammates are waiting for you.”

He glanced at his teammates, then back at you. “Stay here. I’ll make sure we finish practice early.”

Confused, you asked, “Why?”

“Just... stay, alright? Don’t leave.”

With that, Wooyoung ran off to join his team. San was the first to notice something different. “What were you talking about?” he asked, with skepticism in his voice.

For once, Wooyoung didn’t play along with their teasing. “Let’s start the match,” he said to Hongjoong, his tone more serious than usual. Everyone noticed the shift in Wooyoung’s behavior, but no one dared to say anything.

As you remained seated on the bleachers, you watched Wooyoung and his team practice. The rhythmic thud of the ball and the shouts of the players filled the air, providing a temporary distraction from the turmoil in your mind. You replayed Mark’s words over and over, each repetition cutting deeper. Despite knowing he had no right to say those things, his accusations hurt more than you cared to admit.

Were you really stealing their spotlight? Was it wrong to take charge because no one else seemed up for it? Was trying to be enough, too much?

Wooyoung stole glances at you throughout the match, his concern evident. You noticed but pretended not to, focusing on the game as if it could somehow drown out your thoughts.

When the match ended, Jongho suggested going out to eat. “I’ll pass,” Wooyoung said, catching everyone off guard.

“Why?” Hongjoong asked, his confusion mirrored by the rest of the team as it was a first for him to reject such a proposal.

Wooyoung’s gaze shifted momentarily towards you. “There are things more important that I want to prioritize.”

The team exchanged skeptical looks but knew better than to pry. Seonghwa glanced at you briefly, then turned back to Wooyoung with a knowing smile—one he didn’t quite catch. “You’re free to catch up if you want.”

After the rest of the team left the field, he was quick to run towards where you sat. “Hey,” he said softly, slightly out of breath. “Mind if I sit?” You wordlessly nodded, shifting slightly to give him space.

“So… what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone gentle.

Slowly, you turned to him, your eyes reflecting the confusion and hurt you felt inside. “Am I too much, Wooyoung?”

His eyes widened slightly at your question, a mix of surprise and concern crossing his face. He took a deep breath, clearly wanting to choose his words carefully.

“Why would you think that?” Wooyoung asked softly, concern lacing his voice.

You fidgeted with the voodoo doll keychain in your hands, finding it difficult to articulate the storm inside you. “It’s... complicated.”

Wooyoung could sense your struggle, and for a moment, you felt a ghost of his touch on the back of your shoulders, but it left just as quick as it appeared. “Hey, take your time. You don’t have to rush it all out.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “Earlier today... in the journalism office, something happened. We were discussing our plans for the upcoming Autumn Harmony Festival, and Mr. Kim chose me to be the main one to cover the event. And…”

“And?” Wooyoung prompted, listening intently.

Your voice wavered as you spoke. “I don’t want to give away any details, but someone said really hurtful things. They accused me of... hogging the spotlight, of not being a team player. They said I act like I’m better than everyone else.”

Wooyoung’s expression darkened, though he remained silent, letting you continue.

“It made me question everything. Am I really doing the right thing for the club? Is caring about our reputation so wrong? I’ve always thought I was helping, but maybe... I don’t know, maybe I’ve been doing it all wrong. My mind’s a total mess and I just—”

Your voice broke, and tears started to well up in your eyes. You tried to hold them back, but the emotional weight was too much. Wooyoung watched you with a mixture of empathy and anger, his heart aching for you while a burning rage simmered inside him at the thought of someone hurting you like this—he doesn’t quite understand why he feels this way.

“I... I just don’t know anymore,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you started to cry.

Wooyoung’s heart clenched at the sight of your tears. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “Can I… can I hug you?”

You wordlessly nodded, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, and you buried your face in his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely.

“It’s okay,” he whispered soothingly, rubbing your back. “You’re allowed to feel this way. Let it all out.”

You clung to the fabric of his shirt, sobbing quietly as he continued to hold you, offering silent support. His presence was a calming anchor in the turbulent sea of your emotions. For a few moments, neither of you spoke.

Wooyoung’s thoughts raced. Who would ever have the nerve to speak such words to you when you were one of the most hardworking people he’s ever known? But for now, he focused on comforting you, letting you know that you weren’t alone.

When your sobs finally began to subside, he pulled back slightly to look at you, immediately taking his hand off your shoulder the moment he took note of the proximity. “You are not too much, alright? You’ll never be,” he said firmly. “You’re doing the right thing by caring about the club and its reputation. Don’t let anyone make you doubt that. You’re dedicated and passionate, and that’s something to be proud of.”

You looked into his eyes, and you swore you’ve never felt so seen before.

Wooyoung brushed a stray tear from your cheek and asked softly, “Do you mind telling me who it was?”

You looked at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “Why?” He hesitated, then shrugged lightly. “I’m just… curious, y’know.”

You sighed, glancing away for a moment. “Do you know anyone named Minjae?” Wooyoung nodded. “Oh, yeah, I do. You get to know a lot of people when you’re well-known around school—kinda like a package deal, if you think about it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek debating whether to say more or to just leave things as is. Finally, you sighed once more and said, “It was him.”

Wooyoung’s expression darkened slightly, but he simply nodded. “I see.”

He didn’t press further, sensing that you needed a break from the topic. Instead, he pointed at the voodoo doll keychain in your hands with a curious and somewhat mildly horrified look. “What’s the doll for?”

“So, you see…”

The following day, you walked into the journalism office, still feeling the emotional remnants of yesterday’s confrontation. As you opened the door, expecting the usual hustle and bustle, you were met with a surprising sight: Minjae, diligently working at his desk.

He looked up when he heard the door and, catching your eye, gave a small, somewhat awkward nod before returning to his work. You stood there for a moment, processing the scene. It was strange seeing him so focused, especially after what had happened.

Yeosang, noticing your surprise, walked over to you. “Hey, you okay?”

You nodded slowly, still staring at Minjae. “Yeah, just... surprised, I guess.”

He followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? Maybe yesterday had more of an impact than we thought.”

You turned to him, a mix of confusion and curiosity in your eyes. “Do you think... do you think he’s actually trying to make up for what he said?”

Yeosang shrugged. “It’s possible. Sometimes people just need a wake-up call.”

As you moved further into the office and sat down at your desk, you couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty. Minjae working diligently was a stark contrast to his usual behavior, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this change would last.

Yet for now, you decided to focus on your own work, letting the events of the previous day serve as a reminder that even when things seem overwhelmingly difficult, there can still be moments of unexpected change. And perhaps, just perhaps, this was one of those moments—well, hopefully.

As the lunch break bell rang a while later, you gathered your things, ready to head to the cafeteria with Yeosang. Just as you were about to leave the office, Minjae called out, “Hey, can you stay behind for a bit?”

You glanced at Yeosang, who raised an eyebrow in confusion. With a slight shrug, you nodded towards the door. “Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Yeosang gave Minjae a curious look before turning back to you. “I’ll be waiting at our usual spot,” he said, and with that, only you and Mark were left inside the room.

Turning to Minjae, you asked, “What’s the matter?”

Minjae took a deep breath, his eyes filled with sincerity. “I just… I want to apologize. For, y’know, everything. For all the things I said, for being a slacker, for misjudging you, for not doing my work. I’ve been a terrible team member and an even worse person. I let my insecurities and frustrations get the best of me, and I took it out on you. I was wrong, and I’m truly sorry. I’ve realized that I’ve been hiding behind my complaints instead of actually contributing and taking responsibility. You’ve been carrying the weight for all of us, and instead of appreciating your efforts, I resented you for it. I want to make it right. I’m going to start doing my part and prove that I can be better. Please, forgive me.”

You stood there, silent, processing his words. And you’re not sure if it’s due to the office’s painfully blinding fluorescent lights, but he looked like he had just gotten a black eye and covered it up with a mismatching shade of concealer. There was a little cut on the right corner of his lips, too.

After a few seconds, you let out a soft sigh. “I don’t need you to apologize, Minjae. I need you to take accountability for your actions. The words you’ve just said right now won’t mean a thing if you don’t keep the consistency of your efforts.”

Minjae nodded, clearly moved by your response. “I understand. I will. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

Just as you were about to leave, you paused and turned back to him. “And don’t be too comfortable with misjudging people. You, too, have a side within you that you don’t want to show people, don’t you? That’s the same case for everyone else. If what you did to me had been done to you, would you like it?”

Minjae’s eyes widened slightly as he absorbed your words. “No, I wouldn’t,” he admitted quietly. With a final nod, you turned and left the office.

Little did you know that Wooyoung had been standing just right outside the office door, listening in on your conversation.

Reaching the cafeteria, your eyes searched the crowded space for the familiar sight of Yeosang’s curly brown hair, sighing in relief when you spotted him sitting at your usual table positioned right beside the windows.

The moment you walked towards him, he wasted no time in interrogating you. “So… what was that about?”

“You tell me,” you sighed. “Who would have thought I’d hear such words from Minjae himself?”

“Why? What did he tell you back in the office?” he asked, resting both of his elbows on the table, slightly leaning forward in curiosity.

“Well, to start off, he apologized for being a slacker. Days within this university really are filled with surprises.” You shook your head, gazing out the window.

“You want me to believe your narrative that the Kim Minjae apologized for being a slacker?” Yeosang raised an eyebrow, skeptical of whether you were telling the truth or just making up blatant lies. Well, it’s not like you could blame him, anyway.

You shrugged. “I couldn’t believe it either, honestly. I mean, it’s good that he seems to be taking the very first few steps to turning over a new leaf now, but it was… weird, nevertheless. You know him well enough to know what happened yesterday couldn’t have possibly been enough for him to feel bad.”

Yeosang rubbed his chin with a finger, deep in thought. “Makes sense. Maybe someone else knocked some sense into his head?”

“And by who, exactly? That’s just downright ridiculous,” you shot him a questioning look, turning your head to the side ever so slightly when you heard the sound of Wooyoung’s laughter from the cafeteria’s entrance.

It was only then that you realized Yeosang still doesn’t have a single clue that your perception of Wooyoung had done a full 180 ever since you interviewed him for your publication’s magazine. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to know about it, yet rather, you simply felt like it would be unnecessary to bring it up. Wooyoung doesn’t have that big of a role in your life—or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself—anyway, so why should it matter?

“Well, it’s just a theory,” Yeosang defended himself. “Anyway, if—and only if, Minjae is actually planning on being consistent with his growth, then that means the weight you have to carry for the sake of our publication will gradually decrease. That’s a good thing, especially considering the festival is only a few weeks away,” he beamed.

“Our, Yeo, our. I don’t think you’re aware of how much you’ve helped me with handling my responsibilities,” you said, tilting your head lightly. “You’re a great person, you know? You should give yourself more credit.”

Yeosang awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to respond to your kind words. “Well, I mean, you’re my best friend. It’s only right for me to lend you a hand when it’s due,” he shrugged.

“I just told you to give yourself more credit and here you are doing the complete opposite,” you said, sighing.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cafeteria, Wooyoung and the rest of the football team were sitting together, their conversation lively and full of energy—as usual.

“Anyone else hyped about the Autumn Harmony Festival?” Seonghwa asked, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed smile, a half-bitten sandwich in his hand.

“That’s gotta be me right here,” Mingi replied, grinning. “The festival’s always a blast. The food, the music, everything’s just awesome. I can’t wait to find out what they have in store for this year’s celebration.”

Hongjoong nodded in agreement. “Same here. I mean, last year’s festival was nothing short of absolute perfection, y’know? I wonder how they’ll top it off.”

“Don’t forget the championship game that’s only a week after the festival ends, though,” Jongho added. “We need to make sure we’re ready for that, too.”

“True, true,” Yunho agreed. “We’ve been training hard recently, but we can’t be complacent. We can’t slack off just because we have a festival in between.”

“Speaking of the festival,” San chimed in after leaning towards Seonghwa to gobble the remaining half of his sandwich. “What’s your favorite part of it? For me, it’s always the fireworks. There’s something magical about them.”

“This was only done last year, but my favorite’s gotta be Dilettante’s surprise dance performance,” Hongjoong said with a smile.

“Now that you’ve brought it up, that’s one of my favorite parts from last year’s festival, too. Suddenly seeing Yunho on stage after wondering why he was gone for the whole day gave me goosebumps,” San agreed, making Yunho shyly scratch his head.

“It would’ve been way cooler if Seonghwa was up there with me, though,” Yunho said, nudging Seonghwa who sat between him and San.

While everyone was agreeing with Yunho’s statement—save for Wooyoung who had been awfully quiet for a while now, Seonghwa was quick to brush them all off. “I don’t have the spirit for dancing anymore, so let’s just leave it at that.”

“But if we’re talking about our favorite moments in the festival, it would be the atmosphere at night for me. Everything feels so alive—and the couples walking around holding hands, too,” Seonghwa added. “It’s kind of cute, seeing everyone so happy and in love.”

Mingi nodded. “Yeah, the festival is definitely a romantic place. It’s like the perfect setting for a date.”

At the mention of a date, Wooyoung’s thoughts immediately drifted to you. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to spend the festival with you. His eyes shifted across the cafeteria to where you were sitting with Yeosang, engrossed in a conversation. You must have felt his eyes on you, for you glanced up and met his stare. Caught off guard, Wooyoung quickly looked away, focusing back on his friends.

“There’s something about festivals that just brings out the romance in people,” Yunho mused. “The music, the lights, the whole vibe. It’s like you’re in a different world.”

“Exactly,” San agreed. “And you know what? Sometimes, it’s not about having someone special to spend it with. Just being in that atmosphere makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

“You guys are getting all sappy,” Jongho teased, but there was a wide smile on his face. “But yeah, I get it. There’s a certain charm to it all.”

“Hey, Woo,” Seonghwa said, turning to Wooyoung. “You’ve been awfully quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Wooyoung shrugged, playing it off. “Just thinking about some stuff.”

San, however, knew him too well to buy his excuse. Leaning closer, he asked, “Does this ‘stuff’ involve a certain someone, maybe?”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes but chuckled. “Nah, just got a lot on my mind with the festival and the game coming up.”

Jongho nudged him. “Well, since that’s what we’re talking about right now, what’s your favorite part of the festival?”

Wooyoung thought for a moment. “I’d say the food stalls. There’s always something new to try, and it’s fun just walking around and tasting different things.”

Jongho nudged him again. “Speaking of which, who do you plan on spending the festival with?” Wooyoung shrugged, acting unbothered. “I don’t know. I’ll probably spend it alone.”

Yet he said so with a fragment of you appearing in his mind.

And almost as if by fate, Yunho suggested, “What about the head photojournalist?”

Wooyoung’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“You know,” Yunho said, eyes twinkling. “The head photojournalist. You guys would look cute together.”

“Totally. Imagine the fireworks reflecting in your eyes as you both stare at them,” Mingi added, his tone dreamy. “It’s like a scene straight out of a movie.”

“And then she goes to capture that perfect moment,” Hongjoong laughed. “Only to realize she’s part of the story.”

Wooyoung brushed them off, his cheeks warming. “You guys sound absolutely ridiculous. What are you, teenage girls?”

Yet despite his comment, they weren’t ready to drop the topic at all. They sensed an opportunity to have some fun at his expense and were eager to exploit it.

“You know, Woo, it’s not exactly ridiculous for us to think you’d look cute together,” Yunho said, grinning. “There’s definitely some chemistry there.”

San nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, and think about it—she’s got that whole serious, focused vibe, and you’re the total opposite. It’s like a perfect balance. You’d bring out the fun side in her.”

Hearing the way San described you just made him realize he knows a part of you you’d never reveal to others—and he was someone you trusted enough to show him that part.

“And she’d probably help you stay out of trouble,” Jongho added with a laugh. “You need someone who can keep you in check, Woo. Plus, you can’t deny that you’re always a bit more... animated when you talk about her.”

“Not to mention, you literally have a nickname dedicated to her. You know, photo girl.” Hongjoong teased, making everyone laugh. Wooyoung shook his head, trying to hide a smile. “You guys are reading way too much into this.”

“Come on, Woo,” Seonghwa said, playfully nudging him. “You’ve got to admit there’s something there. Enemies to lovers is a classic trope for a reason. It’s all about the tension and the eventual realization that you actually care about each other.”

“Slowburn would probably be more fitting. It’s not enemies to lovers when she’s the only one who hates him.”

Do you, though?

Yunho’s eyes widened in mock excitement. “Think about the moment when you both realize you’re more than just rivals. The looks on your faces would be priceless.”

Mingi joined in, over the moon that Yunho gets his vision. “And the festival is the perfect setting for that kind of realization. All the romantic vibes, the lights, the music…”

“And then there’s the fireworks,” Hongjoong added, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. “The perfect backdrop for a confession.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing at their enthusiasm. “You guys need to snap out of it.”

Seonghwa shrugged. “Maybe, but you can’t deny we’re onto something.”

“You’re not onto something—you’re on something.”

San wasn’t convinced, though. “Sure, sure. But let’s be real—if you were to be asked who you want to spend the festival with, she’s the first person who comes to mind, right?”

Wooyoung hesitated, his gaze briefly flickering to you before returning to his friends. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Then think about it.”

And he did.

—

As the weekend approached, you found yourself diving headfirst into preparations for the Autumn Harmony Festival alongside Yeosang, Minjae—surprisingly so, and the rest of the journalism club. The gymnasium buzzed with the sounds of laughter and chatter as you all worked together to bring the student council's vision to life. Paper lanterns hung from the rafters, colorful banners accentuated the walls, and tables were adorned with bright flower arrangements.

You were paired up with Karina, the student council president, who took you under her wing, guiding you through the handful of processes of creating the decorations. She showed you how to fold paper into elegant origami shapes, demonstrating each step with precision and grace.

“Alright, so first, you fold the paper in half like this,” Karina explained, her hands moving deftly as she demonstrated the technique. “Then, you fold the corners in towards the center, like so.”

You watched closely, mimicking her movements as you tried to keep up with her expertise. Despite your initial apprehension, Karina’s patient guidance put you at ease, and soon you found yourself getting into the rhythm of the task.

As you both worked, Karina couldn’t help but notice Minjae's uncharacteristically diligent efforts. She turned to you with a curious expression, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s gotten into Minjae? He’s usually not one to work so hard.”

You glanced over at Minjae, who was engrossed in arranging flowers with a focused expression. “You know Minjae?” you asked, surprised by the revelation.

Karina nodded with a chuckle. "Of course. He's the younger brother of my girlfriend, Minjeong. And let me tell you, he’s definitely not known for his work ethic.”

You shrugged, shaking your head in amusement. “I guess he just got a wake-up call,” you mused, turning your attention back to folding a paper origami.

As the day wore on, fatigue began to set in, and you found yourself longing for a break. Glancing over at Yeosang, who was focused on his own task, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hunger.

“Hey, are you hungry?” you asked, interrupting his concentration.

Yeosang looked up, a tired but grateful smile gracing his lips. “Yeah, I could go for a snack.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sudden craving for something salty and sweet. “I’ll go grab us some snacks from the convenience store down the street. Be right back.”

After informing Karina you’ll be off for a while to buy some snacks and asking her if she wanted anything from the convenience store as well, you set off on your own, the cool breeze outside a welcome relief from the stuffy gymnasium. As you walked, your mind wandered, thoughts of the festival and the tasks ahead swirling in your head.

The moment you entered the convenience store, the familiar chime of the door greeted you, signaling your arrival. Your first task was to find the ramen Karina had requested, scanning the aisles until you spotted the familiar packaging. With the ramen now in hand, you moved on to gather snacks for yourself and Yeosang.

Peeking through an aisle, your eyes widened slightly in surprise when you spotted a familiar figure browsing the shelves nearby.

“Wooyoung?”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, a warm smile immediately spreading across his face as he recognized you. “Hey there,” he greeted, making his way over to you. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

You shrugged, gesturing to the items in your hands. “Just picking up some snacks for myself and Yeosang. We’re helping with the festival preparations for the Autumn Harmony Festival.”

“Preparations? What’s the journalism publication gotta do with that?” Wooyoung tilted his head, sounding genuinely curious. Well, you couldn’t exactly blame him.

“The student council president reached out to Mr. Kim a while ago to ask if we could lend them a helping hand since their plans for this year’s festival are bigger compared to the past few years, and they’re a bit short on people to be able to work on it by themselves—hence why a meeting was held a few days ago,” you explained. Upon processing your words, Wooyoung started to slowly nod his head.

“Asking for help is definitely a first for the student council. I wonder what they have in store this year…” he trailed off, picking his words back up after coming to a realization. “Hold on. You’re helping them out with the preparations, right?”

But you were quick to catch on what he was implying, responding by simply shaking your head. “No, Wooyoung. Any details about the festival are strictly confidential. I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait until the event takes place.”

He whined in disappointment, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself mildly amused.

“But there’s still two weeks left… you can’t even tell me what the theme for this year’s festival is?” he said, trying to persuade you into giving at least a crumb of information.

Yet all you did was shake your head once more. “Confidential means confidential. I’m sure what the student council has in store will cater to your liking, though.”

“Really? Why?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

You brushed him off, still refusing to share any details. “Just trust me on this one.”

It wasn’t completely a lie. A few days ago, when Karina was briefing the journalism club about the festival plans, your immediate thought was, “Oh, that sounds like something Wooyoung would have fun with.” You had no idea why, but it was all you could think of. You imagined how wide the smile on his face would look under the glow of the light decorations. The thought of him enjoying the festivities filled you with an unexpected warmth, and you couldn’t help but look forward to seeing his reaction.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was a message from Yeosang, asking what was taking you so long. Quickly, you typed out a response and shoved the phone back into your pocket.

“What’s up?” Wooyoung asked, noticing the slight shift in your demeanor.

“Yeosang’s looking for me. I should probably get back,” you said, a hint of reluctance in your voice.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, hesitant to bid farewell. There was an awkward silence between you, both seemingly unsure of why parting felt so difficult.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” you finally said, eager to break the silence.

“Right, yeah, see you,” Wooyoung replied, and for some reason, you had a feeling the smile on his face as he bid you farewell was forced.

As you turned to leave, you felt his gaze lingering on you. Through the glass wall of the convenience store, he watched you cross the street, a thoughtful expression on his face. Wooyoung was eventually snapped out of his reverie when his phone buzzed with a message from Hongjoong, reminding him of what specific brand and flavor of chips he wanted him to buy. Staring at the message notification blankly, he let out a soft sigh and turned his phone off, once again looking through the glass wall, only to find you no longer in his line of sight.

Returning to the gymnasium, you handed Karina the ramen she requested. “Here you go,” you said.

Karina looked up from the paper decorations she was working on, accepting the ramen with a grateful smile. “Thanks a lot! This tastes perfect. You should definitely try it out sometime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You nodded, making your way over to where Yeosang was sitting cross-legged on the gymnasium floor. He looked up as you approached, a curious expression on his face. “What took you so long?”

You shrugged casually, setting down the snacks. “I happened to cross paths with Wooyoung in the convenience store.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? Where’s the usual ‘I-hate-Wooyoung-so-much-he-never-fails-to-ruin-my-day’ energy?”

You stared at him blankly, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

Yeosang blinked at you, as if trying to process your words. “You don’t hate him anymore? What happened?”

You paused, reflecting on the question. What has changed? It wasn’t that long ago when even just the mere mention of Wooyoung’s name would have irked you, sending a wave of annoyance coursing through you. You remembered the countless times you had grumbled about his antics, the way he always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and how his presence always felt like a thorn in your side, always ready to push the weakest of all buttons. But now, the hostility has dissipated, replaced by... something else. Something you couldn’t quite define yet.

The memory of the first time you saw him in a different light flickered in your mind. It was during the interview for the publication’s magazine. Despite your preconceived notions, he had surprised you with his genuine answers, his passion for football, and the unexpected depth in his personality. You had caught a glimpse of a side of him that he didn’t often show to everyone, a side that intrigued you more than you wanted to admit.

Since then, your interactions have taken on a new tone. There were moments of unexpected understanding, brief conversations that revealed layers you never would’ve thought existed. The irritation had slowly melted away, replaced by curiosity and, perhaps, a hint of admiration. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but somewhere along the way, you had started seeing Wooyoung as more than just an annoyance.

Even now, thinking back to your encounter at the convenience store, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth that was distinctly unfamiliar. His smile had been genuine, his questions filled with sincere curiosity. There was no hint of the playful mockery that used to define your exchanges. Instead, there was an ease that had taken you by surprise, a comfort that felt strangely natural.

As you stood there, Yeosang’s question hanging in the air, you realized that your feelings towards Wooyoung had become a complex mix of past grievances and newfound respect. It was confusing, but not entirely unpleasant.

Yeosang’s eyes narrowed in curiosity as he studied your face. “When did this shift happen? You used to be so adamant about how much he annoyed you.” You looked around the gymnasium, thinking back. “It started with the interview I did for the magazine,” you began, finally meeting his gaze. “There was this moment... I asked him a question off the record.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows shot up. “Off the record? What did you ask him?” You shook your head. “I’m not going to tell you that. It was personal, something that wasn’t meant for the article. But his answer... it caught me off guard. It was like I was seeing an entirely new side of him, one that I never thought existed.”

Yeosang leaned forward, intrigued. “What do you mean? What side?”

“I guess I realized we’re not that different, him and I,” you said, your voice softening as you recalled the moment. “He showed me a side of him that’s more thoughtful, more passionate than I ever gave him credit for. It wasn’t that he changed; it’s just that he revealed a part of himself that I hadn’t seen before.”

Yeosang nodded slowly, absorbing your words. “So, simply put, he’s not just the guy who annoys you anymore.”

“No,” you agreed, shaking your head slightly. “He’s more than that. There’s depth to him, layers that he doesn’t show to everyone. And once I saw that... I couldn’t go back to seeing him as just a nuisance—we’re not friends or anything, though. Things are just... different now,” you hesitantly said, trying to put your feelings into words.

Yeosang looked at you with a knowing gaze, a small smile appearing on his lips. He had a feeling there was something more there, something you hadn’t yet noticed. But he decided not to say anything. It would be better for you to explore those feelings on your own, to figure out what they meant without any external pressure.

“Does this mean I no longer have to worry about endlessly persuading you to take pictures of them for my articles?”

“Perchance.”

“You can’t just say perchance…”

—

Wooyoung had recently noticed he hadn’t been seeing you around that often these days. With only two weeks left until the festival, he figured that was probably what had you so busy. During lunch breaks, he no longer saw you and Yeosang at your usual seats in the cafeteria, and you hadn’t been stopping by the field to watch their practice matches, either. Earlier during the afternoon, when he passed by the journalism club’s office, the door was open, and he saw you sitting on the floor, sleeping, resting your body on Yeosang, who sat beside you with his elbows and head down on a chair beside him. You both looked tired, and he knew he had to do something about it.

So here he was in the middle of the night at a convenience store, accompanied by San, whom Wooyoung had forcefully persuaded to come with him by calling his phone again and again.

As they stood in front of the store’s entrance, San yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Remind me again why we’re here on a school night?” Wooyoung brushed him off with a wave of his hand. “Nothing I need to tell you about.”

They walked inside, and Wooyoung immediately started grabbing snacks and drinks off the shelves. San watched him, amused. “What’s with the midnight shopping spree?”

Wooyoung ignored him, focused on searching the aisles. He picked up the same snacks he saw you holding that weekend: two cups of instant ramen, a bag of honey butter chips, and a bottle of iced green tea. He then added a few more of his personal favorites: a pack of strawberry Pocky, some chocolate bars, and a few cans of soda. San watched the pile grow, raising an eyebrow. “Are you buying all these for me?” he joked, nudging Wooyoung’s arm.

Wooyoung shoved him lightly. “You wish.”

He did let San grab a few snacks, though.

At the counter, while Wooyoung was paying, San asked, “Seriously though, who’s this all for? I’ve never seen you so willing to spend so much on snacks that aren’t for you…” Wooyoung avoided his gaze, busying himself with the payment process. San continued, a teasing note in his voice. “... Unless these are for someone-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Wooyoung interjected, handing over the money to the cashier. He grabbed the bags and turned to leave, but San wasn’t letting it go that easily. “Come on, Woo. You’ve been acting weird lately. Is it for her? You know, the one you keep talking about—the head photojournalist, or photo girl, as you like to call her?”

Wooyoung sighed, finally giving San a serious look. “Yes, alright? It’s for her and her friend. They’re overworked with the festival preparations. I thought I’d do something nice.”

San smirked, following him out of the store. “So, what, you’re a secret snack fairy now?”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips curved upward ever so slightly. “I just... I noticed she’s been stressed. It’s no big deal.” San laughed, pushing Wooyoung’s shoulder lightly. “No big deal and yet you’re wide awake by choice at 2 in the morning to buy her snacks, huh?”

The next day, Wooyoung and San were hiding behind a corner wall, waiting eagerly to see how you would react to Wooyoung’s surprise. They were bickering quietly, their whispers sharp but quiet.

“San, seriously, you’re going to blow our cover if you don’t shut up,” Wooyoung hissed, peeking around the corner. “Me? You’re the one who can’t stop fidgeting,” San retorted, nudging Wooyoung with his elbow. “And why did you drag me into this again?”

“Because I need moral support,” Wooyoung replied, rolling his eyes. “Besides, you owe me one for covering for you last week.” San sighed. “Fine, but if we get caught, you’re taking the blame.”

They immediately shut up the moment they saw you walking toward your locker. Yeosang called in sick for today, leaving you to head on your way to the campus all by yourself.

Walking up to your locker and opening it, you were surprised to see an unfamiliar item you don’t quite remember putting inside. It was a medium-sized, square box, wrapped in a vibrant, glossy paper patterned with cartoonish cat faces and tiny hearts. The wrapping was slightly crinkled, giving it a somewhat endearing, handmade feel that hinted at the effort put into it. A pastel-colored ribbon tied into a neat bow decorated the top with its ends curled. The ribbon was dotted with small, glittering stars, adding a touch of sparkle whenever it would catch the light.

Curious, you took it out and opened it, your eyes widening at the sight of the snacks inside—which were just as thoughtfully arranged. Tissue paper in complementary pastel hues cradled the snacks that seem to follow a pattern of being yours and Yeosang’s favorites, along with the other half being a new addition, each sheet carefully fluffed to provide a soft bed for the treats.

Examining the box once more in hopes of finding a clue of who it could be from, you checked the lid, spotting a black, cat-shaped sticky note attached to it, the edges carefully cut to resemble pointed ears, and a cheerful cat face drawn with exaggerated features, large eyes, and a tiny, upturned mouth. The sticky note bore a handwritten message: “What did the ocean say to the beach? Nothing, they just waved.” At the very bottom of the note was a poorly drawn ocean waving to the beach with a smile. From their hiding spot, Wooyoung watched intently, his heart pounding in anticipation. When he saw your lips curl up ever so slightly at the cheesy pick-up line, his eyes widened in surprise and delight.

“Did you see that?” he whispered excitedly, a bit too loudly. “She smiled. She actually smiled!” San raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I have eyes, you know. You’re acting like it’s the first time she’s ever smiled.”

Wooyoung turned to San, his expression almost giddy. “That’s because it is! Well, at least the first time because of me. She never smiles, San. Never. And I made her smile!”

San chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re really smitten, aren’t you?" Wooyoung’s eyes widened, and he shook his head violently. “Smitten? No way. I’m just... happy I made her smile. That’s all.”

San smirked, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. You’re totally smitten, dude.” Wooyoung glared at San. “I’m not. Have you ever heard of this thing called trying to be nice?”

San rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Keep living in denial. But just so you know, this whole ‘trying to be nice’ thing? It’s a classic symptom of being smitten.” Wooyoung crossed his arms, determined to stick to his story. “I’m not in denial because there’s nothing to deny. I’m just doing a good deed.”

San shrugged, a knowing smile on his face. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, man. But if this is how you’re going to act every time she smiles, you might as well get used to it. You’ll have to come up with something bigger next time.”

As you walked back to the office with the box of snacks, Wooyoung watched you go, a satisfied smile on his face. San clapped him on the back, shaking his head in amusement. “Denial or not, you’re totally whipped.”

Wooyoung ignored him, still basking in the small victory of making you smile. “Let’s just get back to class.” San laughed, but he didn’t push the matter further, deciding to let Wooyoung come to terms with his feelings in his own time. “Sure thing, Romeo.”

Entering the office, you find only Karina there, humming softly as she arranged some newly made decorations. The office is a bit cluttered, with props and decor for the festival neatly stacked and stored to avoid any damage. Everyone else has already headed to their respective classes, but your professor had announced in your group chat that he would be late today, so you weren’t in any rush.

Karina looked up as you walked in, her eyes immediately catching sight of the brightly decorated box in your hands. “Hey there,” she greeted with a smile. “Didn’t know you had a lovergirl spirit in you.”

You felt your cheeks warm up at her comment but let your shoulders relax after hearing her voice, feeling at ease with her presence. Over the days you’ve spent making preparations for the festival alongside the student council members, you’ve found yourself to grow fond of her—and so did she with both you and Yeosang. “It’s not like that,” you say, placing the box on a nearby table. “I don’t even know who the box is from.”

This piqued her interest, and she stopped what she’s doing to give you her full attention. “Really? A secret admirer, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, her tone playful. You shrugged, feeling a bit curious yourself. “I wouldn’t say that... There wasn’t any name on it, just a note.”

Karina’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Well, why don’t you take a look through the box? Maybe there are some clues inside.” You glance at the box, then back at Karina. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check.”

With that, she walked over, peeking into the box as you opened it again. The snacks and little trinkets inside are arranged with such care that it gives you a strange, warm feeling. Karina lets out a low whistle. “Wow, someone went all out. This looks really thoughtful.”

You nodded, still feeling a bit stunned by the whole thing. “Yeah, it does.”

Karina picked up one of the snacks, examining it. “Half of these are your favorites, right? And some of Yeosang’s, too. Whoever did this knows you pretty well.” You found yourself agreeing with her, thinking about the effort put into the box. “I guess so…”

Karina placed the snack back into the box, pinching your cheek lightly. “Well, good luck figuring out your secret admirer. I’ve got to head to class now.”

“Thanks,” you said, waving her off as she left the office. “See you later.”

As she walked out, you couldn’t help but feel a little more curious about who could have gone through so much trouble to put this together—and who else other than Yeosang could have known you well enough to pick just the right snacks to put inside the box.

On the other side of the building sat Wooyoung and San in their respective seats at sociology class—but today, there was something unusual, and that would be nothing other than Wooyoung seeming to be more smiley and eager to learn than usual. Even their professor, who is used to Wooyoung’s occasional inattentiveness, couldn’t help but notice the change in his demeanor, though he silently hopes it will last.

San, sitting beside Wooyoung, nudged him, whispering, “What’s with you today? You seem more cheerful than usual.” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, brushing him off. “Can’t a guy have a good day without it being a big deal?” San smirked, “Woah, chill out. Well, whatever you say.”

San was about to leave him alone, but Wooyoung's anxious voice caught his attention. “San… What if she didn’t like the surprise?” Wooyoung whispered, his usual confidence momentarily replaced by genuine worry. “What if the only thing that made her smile was that lame dad joke I wrote on the cat-shaped sticky note?” San huffed, shaking his head. “Oh, and here I thought you weren’t whipped for her.”

“I’m not!” Wooyoung insisted, his eyes wide. “I’m just worried she wouldn’t like it.”

“So... whipped?”

“No!”

Their professor shushed them from the front of the class, giving them a stern look. They both fell silent for a moment, but San leaned in again, this time with a reassuring tone. “Look, you saw her smile, right? That’s a big deal. Trust me, she liked it. You put a lot of thought into it.”

Wooyoung fidgeted with his pen with an ink halfway drained, still uncertain. “But how do you know?”

San rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Because, my guy, no one smiles at a lame dad joke if they’re not already in a good mood. Plus, you bought all her favorite snacks. She probably loved it. Stop worrying so much.” Wooyoung sighed and leaned back on his seat, nodding slightly. “Alright, alright, yeah, that makes sense. I just hope you’re right.”

San patted him on the back. “I always am. Now pay attention to the board before the professor kicks you out.” Wooyoung laughed softly, feeling a bit more at ease. The class went by smoothly, yet his worries about what you thought of his present kept lingering in his thoughts. He could only hope San was right.

Time seems to be passing by quicker than usual this week, as you didn’t even notice it was already lunch break—at least until you were the very last person inside your classroom. You headed towards the cafeteria, but as you reached its entrance all by yourself. you were quick to feel out of place in the room. The noise and chatter around you amplify your sense of isolation, only further highlighting Yeosang’s absence. Seeking a quieter atmosphere, you headed to the field, bringing along some snacks from the mysterious box you found in your locker earlier. You still don’t know who the box is from, but the treats inside are a comfort, nevertheless.

The field is expansive and mostly empty, the grass a vibrant green under the midday sun. It’s a stark contrast to the crowded cafeteria, offering a sense of peace. You spot Wooyoung all by himself, kicking a football around with casual ease. It’s been a while since you last came here, given how busy you’ve been with the festival preparations, leaving little room for free time.

Wooyoung immediately notices your presence, his eyes darting to the strawberry Pocky and can of soda you’re holding—his personal favorites that he added to the box of snacks for you. The sight of you holding them makes him blush slightly, realizing it’s what you chose to bring with you. You wave slightly at Wooyoung, who enthusiastically waves back with both hands before sprinting over to you by the bleachers. His usual playful grin is in place, and his energy is infectious. “Hey, stranger. Long time no see at the field,” he greets enthusiastically.

“Hi,” you respond calmly. “Yeah, it has been a while. Sorry, I’ve been really busy these days.”

Wooyoung brushes off your apology with a smile, shaking his head. “What? No, you don’t need to apologize for that. You’ve got a lot on your plate. Have you been getting any rest?” You shake your head, a bit sheepishly. “Well… not really. But I did find a mysterious box filled with snacks in my locker earlier.”

“Oh?” Wooyoung feigns surprise, eyebrows raised. “What was in it?” You describe the decorations on the box in detail—the vibrant colors, the playful stickers, and the cat-shaped sticky note with a joke written on it. “It said, ‘What did the ocean say to the beach? Nothing, they just waved.’”

Wooyoung pretends to scoff, crossing his arms in mock indignation. “Dad jokes? Really? Who even makes those these days?” You chuckle softly. “I thought it was lame at first, too. But somehow, it was so unfunny it became funny. It cheered me up.”

“Well, at least it lifted your spirit. That’s all that matters,” Wooyoung says, smiling. “You deserve something like that.”

“You think so?” you ask, tilting your head, your curiosity piqued by his sincerity.

“I know so.”

You look at him, a bit curious. “What about you?” Wooyoung tilts his head, confused for a moment, pushing you to elaborate. “Um, you know, championships. Have you been getting any rest lately?”

“Oh, right. Not really. That’s actually why I’m here playing around in the field to unwind a bit. Gotta have some fun before diving back into practice, you know,” he shrugged. “That’s good,” you nod approvingly. “But don’t overwork yourself. Overexertion can lead to muscle fatigue, reduced immune function, and overall physical burnout.”

Wooyoung laughs, a carefree sound that contrasts with your concern. “I have no idea what you just said, so I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing.” You shake your head in amusement. “I really mean it. You deserve some time to yourself. Speaking of, are you and the team planning to attend the festival?”

“Of course!” he exclaims, his eyes lighting up. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“That’s great,” you say. “You should use it as a way to unwind and take a break.” Wooyoung pauses, then asks, “Are you planning to spend the festival with someone?”

You take a moment to reflect on the question. You mull over who you could spend it with, immediately thinking of Yeosang. However, a feeling tugs at you that maybe he should spend the festival doing something he enjoys independently, not always sticking by your side. He needs to “go out there,” too. But then, who else would you spend the festival with? The thought leaves you feeling a bit uncertain.

“I was thinking of spending it with Yeosang,” you finally say. “It’s kind of our default. But I also want him to go out on his own this time. I haven’t really given it much thought.”

Wooyoung’s heart races, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He doesn’t know why his immediate thought was to invite you to spend the festival with him, but the words slip out before he can stop them. “You could spend the festival with me and the football team.” You turn your head towards him, confused, not quite catching his words. “What?”

Clearing his throat and trying to seem more relaxed, Wooyoung repeats himself, “I mean, you could spend it with us. You know, the football team.”

You hesitate, your brow furrowing slightly. “Oh, but wouldn’t they mind?” Wooyoung shakes his head, smiling reassuringly. “They don’t have the right to complain. But seriously, they wouldn’t mind at all. I’m sure they’ll like you.”

“You think so?” you ask, still a bit unsure.

“I know so,” Wooyoung says, then elaborates. “You’ve got this calm and quiet vibe, but at the same time, you’re also really cool. I think it would be good to have someone like you around. They’ll appreciate your presence—even if we tend to be rowdy at times. Plus, you’ve got this way of making people feel at ease. I’ve seen it.” You tilt your head, still a bit unsure. “You think they’ll really like me?”

“I know they will,” he says, his tone firm. “And besides, I’ll be there with and for you.” You blink, slightly taken aback. “What?”

He clears his throat again, trying to play it off casually. “I mean, I can serve as the mutual bridge between you and the team, something like that.” You nod, feeling a bit more at ease. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

As you both sit on the bleachers, sharing the snacks, the atmosphere feels comfortable. The strawberry Pocky you munch on is sweet, and the soda fizzes pleasantly on your tongue. Wooyoung's presence is warm and easy, making you feel more relaxed than you have in days. It’s a simple moment, but it’s filled with comfort, nevertheless. It’s always the case whenever he’s around, anyway.

—

It’s now the day before the festival, and the campus is buzzing with activity. Members of the journalism club and student council are busier than usual, working tirelessly to ensure everything is perfect for tomorrow. The festival is on Sunday, so the first day of the weekend is dedicated to decorating the entire campus, setting up props, booths, the stage, and various other attractions. Everyone has been here since early morning, and the atmosphere is charged with a mix of both excitement for the day to come and exhaustion due to the amount of workload.

By afternoon, the sun is high in the sky, heating up the world like a large candle lit aflame. While Yeosang is busy hanging decorations inside the building, you are assigned to work on the decorations at the campus grounds, so you were both separated for the day. The heat is intense, and you can feel dehydration setting in as you continue working under the blazing sun.

Today, Minjae is also assigned to the campus grounds decorations. As he sees you struggling in the heat, he hesitantly approaches with a cold water bottle in hand. “Um, hey,” he says, extending the water bottle toward you. His demeanor is a mix of guilt and awkwardness, and you could tell from the way he couldn’t even look you straight in the eye.

You’re a little caught off guard at first—after all, you’re still not quite used to the change that occurred within him despite being grateful for it, but then accept the water, offering him your gratitude. “Thanks, Minjae.” He brushes you off, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It’s the least I can do.”

You can tell he still feels bad about his past words and for slacking off in his duties. Seeing his discomfort, you decide to address it directly. “You know, I can tell you still feel guilty about what happened back in the office.”

He looks down, shuffling his feet on the ground as the friction between the soles of his shoes and the grass create a crispy sound. “Yeah, I... I’m still really sorry about that. I was out of line. And I know it’s pathetic how I’m the one who did you wrong yet I can’t even be around you without acting awkward. I’m doing my best not to, but I just—”

You cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Minjae, there’s no point in mulling over something that already happened. I’ve moved on from what you said, and so should you. I’ve seen you working hard lately, and that’s what matters now. Rather than focusing on your past mistakes, focus on continuing your growth. There’s no need to act awkward around me, alright? I’ve already forgiven you and I only wish you the best, and I have enough faith in you to trust you won’t do such a thing again.”

Minjae’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and you can see he’s genuinely touched by your words. Wanting to lighten the mood, you pull out the voodoo doll keychain Yeosang gave you that you still haven’t returned. “Here,” you say, handing it to Minjae. He looks at the doll, confused and mildly horrified by its weird-looking face. “Uh… what’s this?”

You chuckle softly. “Yeosang gave it to me that day in the office after you said those things, so that I wouldn’t feel alone. It’s kind of like a good luck charm. It only makes sense to pass it on to you now.” Minjae still looks a bit horrified, but the oddity of the doll distracts him from his tears. “Thanks... I think?”

You ruffle his hair gently. “Don’t stress it out, okay? Go back to work. We’ve got a festival to prepare for.” He nods, a small smile forming on his lips as he pockets the doll and heads back to his tasks. You watch him for a moment, feeling a sense of satisfaction. It’s a small gesture, but you hope it helps him move forward.

The rest of the day progresses smoothly, with everyone enjoying the festive atmosphere of decorating despite their growing fatigue. The sun finally sets, casting a warm glow over the campus, now transformed with vibrant decorations and beautiful setups. Members of the student council and the journalism club gather to admire their collective effort. High-fives are exchanged, and congratulations abound. Karina steps forward, her eyes brimming with gratitude. “Before we all head home, I just want to thank everyone for all their hard work—especially the journalism club for lending us a hand. None of this would have been possible without you guys.”

A chorus of agreements and mutual thanks echoes through the group. They all wish each other well, hoping tomorrow’s festival will be a resounding success, before heading home for a well-deserved rest.

As you and Yeosang walk home together after bidding Karina farewell, the streets quiet under the evening sky, Yeosang turns to you. “So, what are our plans for this year’s festival?” You smile slightly and correct him, “My and your plans.” He stops in his tracks, confused. “Wait, what? Why?”

“You can’t possibly spend every festival with me when there are so many people wanting to hang out with you,” you explain. "I mean, come on, you're Yeosang."

He frowns, shaking his head. “But you’re more fun to hang out with.” You shoot him a playful, confused look. “Me? More fun? I’m widely known to be calm and composed—the top traits of a plain person, mind you. How is that fun?”

“You’re nowhere near plain. Plus, I just prefer your company,” he says simply.

You nod, understanding his sentiment. “I feel the same way, Yeosang, but you need to go out there, you know? Spend time with other people, meet new people.” Yeosang hesitates, his concern for you evident. “But what about you?"

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “You don’t need to worry about me all the time.” Reluctantly, he agrees. “Okay, but who are you planning to spend the festival with?”

“Well, Wooyoung invited me a few days ago,” You say, almost offhandedly. Yeosang isn’t surprised, and is just simply amused. “You’ve been bringing Wooyoung up a lot these days.”

You brush him off. “It’s not like that.”

“I thought you said you weren’t friends, though?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitate, searching for the right words. You’re not sure what kind of connection you and Wooyoung have. The dynamic is confusing, but one thing is clear—you enjoy his company. “You know, you’ve been smiling a little more lately,” Yeosang speaks up, breaking the short-lived silence.

You furrow your brow, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

He elaborates, “I mean, it’s not like you’re suddenly grinning from ear to ear, but there’s this lightness about you. Your eyes crinkle just a bit more when you’re talking. You seem less... guarded. Like the walls you put up are starting to come down, slowly but surely.” You feel a slight flush creep up your cheeks as Yeosang continues. “I think Wooyoung has something to do with it. Ever since you two started getting along, you’ve seemed happier.”

“That's ridiculous,” you respond, shaking your head dismissively. Even after saying that, as you continue walking, you find yourself mulling over Yeosang’s words. Were you really smiling more often now? How come you yourself haven’t noticed? And if it’s true, is Wooyoung really the reason? Why so?

—

It's now Sunday morning, and the alarm clock blares at an unusually early hour—8 AM. Despite the grogginess, you quickly remind yourself of today’s importance. The festival may not start until the afternoon, but the journalism club and the student council are expected to be on campus earlier than everyone else to ensure everything is perfectly set up.

Last night, Karina had insisted that you treat today as a special occasion. She urged you to take your time getting ready, to pamper yourself and dress up a bit. Initially, the idea had made you blush, but Karina had promised she’d be dressing up too so that you wouldn’t feel out of place. Determined to follow her advice, you dive into your closet, fingers sifting through hangers of clothes. After a good amount of deliberation, you finally settle on a cute, yet comfortable outfit—a floral sundress paired with a light cardigan and your favorite sandals. You snap a quick picture and send it to Karina. Her response is immediate and enthusiastic: “You’d look drop-dead gorgeous in that! 😍” She follows your message with a picture of her own outfit, equally stylish and encouraging.

Feeling a bit more confident, you head to the bathroom for a shower. As the hot water washes over you, your mind starts to wander. The realization that you won’t be spending the festival with Yeosang this year, but with Wooyoung and the football team instead, makes your stomach churn with nerves. What if they don’t like you? What if you come off as too quiet or awkward? The thoughts swirl, creating a knot of anxiety in your chest. But then, you remember Wooyoung’s reassuring words. His voice echoes in your mind, calming your fears. You take a deep breath and slowly exhale, allowing the tension to melt away. You wonder if Wooyoung is already up, preparing for the day with the same mix of excitement and nervousness that you feel.

After drying off, you sit in your vanity to fix your hair and apply a bit of makeup. You go for a natural look, just enough to enhance your features without feeling overdone. As you carefully apply your products on, you think about how different today will be. Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you check your outfit in the mirror one last time, ensuring everything is in place.

Grabbing your phone, you shoot a quick text to Yeosang: “Hey, I’ll meet you at the corner near my apartment in 15 minutes. Does that sound good?”

Even though you won’t be spending the festival together, you’ll be heading to campus together since both of you are part of the early setup crew. Yeosang replies almost immediately, confirming he’ll be there. You gather your bag to double-check if you have everything you need for the day, and head out the door. The morning air is cool, a slight breeze rustling the leaves. Reaching the corner, you see Yeosang waiting for you, a relaxed smile on his face. “Ready for the big day?” he asks. You shrug, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement. “I hope.”

When you and Yeosang arrive on campus, the air is filled with liveliness and the promise of a worthwhile day ahead. The two of you head straight to the student council office where everyone has already gathered, the room filled with chatter and last-minute preparations. Karina, as always, is at the center of the activity, efficiently coordinating the final details.

She calls everyone to order, and the room falls silent. A quick run-through of the day’s schedule ensues, with each member confirming their responsibilities and ensuring everything is ready. Once satisfied that everything is in place, the group disperses to make final checks on the decorations scattered around the campus. As everyone moves out, Karina immediately makes a beeline for you, her eyes lighting up when she sees your outfit. “Look at you, Miss Universe!” she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. “You look breathtaking.”

You blush, feeling slightly self-conscious. “Thanks. It feels a bit awkward to dress up for a school event, though,” you admit, glancing down at your dress. "But you look gorgeous, too,” you said, admiring her appearance. Karina waves off your compliment with a playful smile. “Oh, stop it. But seriously, you’re stunning. I swear, you’re going to be the star of today. By the end of the festival, you’ll have a line of admirers at your feet.”

Her mention of admirers makes you think of the mysterious box from your locker, and Karina seems to read your thoughts. “Speaking of admirers, have you figured out who left you that box yet?”

You shake your head. “No, I still don’t have a single clue.” Karina gives you a knowing look. “Well, they better show themselves today—you can never go wrong with revealing your identity to your crush during a festival.”

You rub the back of your neck, brushing off her teasing. “We’ll see about that.” Karina laughs, giving you a light shove. “Oh, come on! It's bound to happen. Anyway, let’s check on the decorations outside before things get too hectic.”

You nod, grateful for her company and support. Together, you walk through the campus, making sure the decorations are still in place. The morning sun is already climbing higher, promising a warm day ahead. The banners, streamers, and various booths look vibrant and inviting, a testament to all the hard work everyone put in. As you move from one area to another, Karina continues to chat animatedly, her excitement infectious. She points out little details, praises everyone’s efforts, and occasionally teases you about your mystery admirer. Despite your initial nerves, you start to feel more at ease, caught up in the anticipation of the festival and the presence of your friends.

“Look at how well the streamers turned out!” Karina exclaims, pointing to the colorful decorations swaying gently in the breeze. “Everyone did such an amazing job.” You nod, admiring the handiwork. “Yeah, it looks really good. The campus feels so vibrant.”

Karina grins and nudges you playfully. “And speaking of vibrant, you’re positively glowing today. I think your admirer might just faint when they see you.” You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope, absolutely not,” she laughs. “I’m fully invested in this mystery now. I mean, who wouldn’t want to know who has a crush on our gorgeous star reporter?” You shake your head, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

Karina points to a nearby booth, changing the subject slightly. “Oh, look at the detail on that sign. It’s perfect. And the balloons—they add such a fun touch.” You follow her gaze, appreciating the effort everyone has put into the preparations. “Yeah, it all came together really well. I’m excited to see how it looks when the festival starts.”

The two of you continue to check on the decorations, and as you move through the campus, you start to feel a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that you’ve played a part in creating this beautiful, festive atmosphere. The exhaustion has definitely proved itself to be worth it.

The afternoon arrives, and the campus begins to buzz with life. Students, faculty, and even alumni trickle in, filling the grounds with a lively atmosphere. By the gates, Yeosang and a student council member greet everyone warmly, their cheerful voices carrying over the excited chatter of the crowd. From afar, you stand amidst the school grounds, your eyes scanning the growing throng for any sign of Wooyoung and his team. Nervous energy builds in your chest, a mix of anticipation and anxiety. Your phone buzzes with a notification, pulling you from your thoughts. It's a message from Hongjoong. As you read it, you can’t help but raise an eyebrow in amusement: “We’ll be a little late because Mingi overslept and is only halfway done with preparing now. Sorry to keep you waiting. - Wooyoung 😺” The cat emoji at the end of the message brings a soft smile to your face.

A few minutes later, another message arrives, again from Hongjoong’s phone, saying they’re on their way. The nervousness in your stomach intensifies, and you decide to make a run to the bathroom to check your appearance. Socializing with big groups isn't your strong suit, and the thought of spending the day with Wooyoung and his team has you on edge.

In the bathroom, you adjust your hair, making sure every strand is in place. You touch up your makeup, ensuring everything looks perfect. As you scrutinize your reflection, your phone dings again. Another text from Hongjoong’s number: “We’re at the gates.” You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. With one last glance in the mirror, you exhale, trying to muster confidence and calm your nerves at the same time. As you step out of the bathroom and make your way toward the gates, your heart pounds in your chest.

As Wooyoung and his team make their way through the crowd, Jongho glances at Wooyoung and smirks. “This is the first time I’ve seen you put so much effort into your appearance for the festival,” he says loudly, drawing everyone's attention. “Yeah, what's the deal, Woo?” San joins in, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Trying to impress a certain someone?”

"Ridiculous," Wooyoung rolls his eyes, trying to mask his embarrassment with annoyance. “I just felt like looking good today, okay?"

“Alright, you all better at least try to act like decent human beings for once—and that means zero teasing for today. We don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable,” Hongjoong says, immediately shutting San up. Wooyoung nods, grateful for Hongjoong’s intervention. “Especially you guys,” he says, pointing at Mingi and San, who both look at him with an offended expression. Jongho looks around, trying to spot you. “Where is she, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung replies. “But I’m pretty sure she read the message I sent through Hongjoong’s phone already, so she’s probably on her way.” Seonghwa suddenly perks up, pointing towards a figure in the distance. “Hey, isn’t that her?”

Wooyoung follows Seonghwa's gaze, and the moment he sees you, it feels as if time stops. He’s in a trance, completely unaware of everything else happening. The world fades, and all he can see is you, even amidst the crowd you’re surrounded with. San, noticing Wooyoung’s reaction, nudges him. “Snap out of it, lover boy,” he teases. Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. He calls out your name, his loud voice easily spreading across the noise of the festival. “Over here!”

You hear him and wave, making your way over to the group. As you walk up to Wooyoung and his friends, you shyly greet them, and their energetic response feels like a stark contrast to your quieter demeanor. Somehow, Wooyoung is the only one who awkwardly says hi back. “The decorations look so cool,” Yunho compliments, his eyes wide with appreciation. “You and the others did a great job.”

“Oh, thank you,” you reply, feeling a little flustered. I agree. It was definitely worth all the restless days we went through.”

Yunho continues, “So, what do you guys have in store for today?”

“Well, you’ll find out later,” you respond vaguely. “But for now, you’re free to enjoy the various booths and attractions all around.” As you start walking around, you find yourself in front with Wooyoung, while the rest of the group trails behind on purpose. “Your friends have talked more than you so far,” you mention, glancing at Wooyoung. He awkwardly chuckles, clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“Do you want to say something?” you ask, sensing that he might. Wooyoung hesitates for a moment before shyly whispering, “You look beautiful.”

“What?” you ask, not quite catching his words. A little flustered, Wooyoung blurts out, “You look beautiful.” The guys hear this but resist the urge to tease or react. You blush in return, “Thank you. You look good too, Wooyoung.”

As you pass by a large backdrop designed for festival photos, you look back at the group. “Do you guys want me to take a picture of you here?” you offer, holding up your DSLR camera, the strap slung around your neck.

“Yeah, sure!” Seonghwa says enthusiastically.

You take pictures as they strike silly poses, making you smile—a sight that doesn’t escape Wooyoung’s notice. After showing them the photos on the DSLR’s screen, Hongjoong suggests, “How about we get a picture of you and Wooyoung too?” Both you and Wooyoung are caught off guard, but everyone else agrees eagerly. Eventually giving in, you hand the camera to Hongjoong, you and Wooyoung walk to the backdrop, unsure of how to pose. “Make a heart,” San suggests, grinning mischievously.

“Heart...?” you ask, flustered.

Yunho and Mingi demonstrate, forming a heart shape with their arms. You look at Wooyoung, who is already looking at you. Both of you look away quickly, then awkwardly position yourselves to form a heart shape together. The rest of the group then resists the urge to scream and holler like teenage girls, save for Mingi who starts hitting Yunho’s shoulder continuously. “Smile!” Hongjoong calls out, but you struggle to smile on command. Noticing your discomfort, Wooyoung leans in and whispers a lame joke in your ear. The unexpected humor makes you let out a short, breathy laugh, and Hongjoong times the shutter of the camera perfectly, capturing the moment. Hongjoong shows you and Wooyoung the photo. When he sees the genuine smile on your face—for the very first time—Wooyoung can't help but smile as well.

The day passes by in a blur of laughter and activities. You visit different booths, play games, and try various foods. Despite the occasional teasing from the group that you don’t quite understand, the atmosphere is light and fun nevertheless. Mingi wins a giant stuffed animal at one booth and insists on carrying it around, much to everyone’s amusement. At another booth, San tries his hand at a strength tester and dramatically fails, causing a chorus of laughter. Every now and then, Wooyoung and you found yourselves in oddly heartwarming moments. Once, you both reached for the same snack at the food stall, your hands brushing against each other. Wooyoung quickly pulled back, a shy smile on his face, “Uh, you go first.”

As the sun sets and the sky turns a deep shade of blue, Hongjoong suggests, “Hey, how about we take another picture of you two?” You agree, and Hongjoong takes the DSLR from you. You and Wooyoung pose again, this time feeling more relaxed. After the photo, you forget to take the camera back from Hongjoong, who happily holds onto it.

Night falls, and the festival takes on a magical glow with lights and lanterns everywhere. You realize it’s now time for the surprise event. With excitement bubbling inside you, you turn to Wooyoung and the rest, “Follow me! I have something to show you.” In your enthusiasm, you grab Wooyoung's hand without realizing it and lead the group through the crowd. San, being the first to notice it, ushers Hongjoong to sneakily take a picture of you holding hands.

You lead them to an open area where lanterns are set up, ready to be released into the sky. “Everyone gets to write their wishes on the lanterns before letting them fly up,” you explain, beaming. Everyone else eagerly rushed to get their lanterns, leaving you and Wooyoung standing together. It’s only when you reach for a lantern that you realize you’re still holding his hand. You both awkwardly let go, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Wooyoung grabs a marker and starts writing on his lantern. Curious, you peek over and read his wish, and beside your name, he wrote: “I wish for her happiness.” You chuckle, “You’re supposed to make a wish for yourself.” Wooyoung shrugs, a sincere look in his eyes. “My point still stands.”

Touched, you immediately write on your lantern as well: “I wish Wooyoung luck for the championships.”

“Thought we were supposed to make wishes for ourselves?” Wooyoung echoed your words from earlier, playfully raising an eyebrow—just so you wouldn’t notice the light red hue on his cheeks. Together, you and Wooyoung release your lanterns into the air. As they float upwards, you both look at each other and share a smile. Nearby, Hongjoong captures the moment with a photo.

As you watch your lanterns drift higher, you come to a sudden realization: Wooyoung’s handwriting matches the one on the sticky note from the box. You choose not to bring it up, letting the moment linger. When the night deepens, the festival then starts to reach its crescendo with a fireworks display. The air is filled with anticipation as everyone gathers in the open fields, eyes glued to the dark sky above. Wooyoung nudges you gently, “Come on, I know a spot where we can watch the fireworks without the crowd.”

You follow him, weaving through the throngs of students and faculty. He leads you to a secluded area on the edge of the campus, where the noise of the crowd fades, and the view of the sky is unobstructed. The space feels intimate, almost like it was made for just the two of you. As you both settle in, the first firework bursts into the sky, painting it with vibrant colors. You watch in awe, the sight pulling you into a reflective state. You sigh softly, feeling a mix of contentment and nostalgia. “You know, today has been amazing. It’s been so long since I felt like... like I’m actually someone outside of my responsibilities. Today, I felt free.”

Wooyoung listens intently, his gaze never leaving your face. His heartwarming smile is constant, encouraging you to continue.

“I’ve been so caught up with the journalism club and everything else that I forgot what it feels like to just have fun. To be part of something without the pressure of expectations. And today... you made me feel that again.” A particularly loud and colorful firework explodes overhead, but neither of you look away from each other.

Wooyoung’s smile grows softer, more affectionate. “I”m glad you had fun. You deserve to feel this way more often.” You nod, feeling a lump in your throat. “Thank you, Wooyoung. For everything. For inviting me, for making me feel welcome. For... just being you.” He reaches out and gently squeezes your hand. “Anytime. Really.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence, watching the fireworks light up the night sky. Each burst of color seems to reflect the emotions swelling in your heart—joy, relief, and something new, something deeper that you can’t quite name. As the grand finale of the fireworks display starts, you find yourself leaning a little closer to Wooyoung. He doesn’t move away, instead, his thumb softly strokes the back of your hand. In that moment, surrounded by the dazzling lights and the warmth of his presence, you feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and hope for what the future might hold. When the last firework fades and the sky returns to its star-studded calm, you turn to Wooyoung one last time. “Today was unforgettable.”

He looks at you, eyes full of sincerity. “It really was.”

—

The following morning, you woke up with the sun, the events of the festival still fresh in your mind. The day had been magical, filled with laughter and moments that made you feel alive. It wasn't until you started getting ready for school that the realization hit you—you had completely forgotten to cover the event.

Panic set in as you frantically checked your camera. The memory card was filled with photos of you, Wooyoung, the football team, and various candid shots likely taken by Hongjoong. There were no pictures of the important moments, the highlights that were meant for the article. Guilt gnawed at you as you hurried to school, the weight of your mistake heavy on your shoulders. Entering Mr. Kim’s office, he looked up from his desk as you walked in. “Morning,” he greeted curtly. “Let’s see what you got from the festival.” Swallowing hard, you approached his desk. “I… I’m really sorry, Mr. Kim,” you began, your voice trembling. “I didn’t manage to cover the event properly.”

Mr. Kim’s face darkened immediately. “What do you mean you didn’t cover it?” he asked sharply. You took a deep breath, preparing to explain yourself. “I got distracted. I... I didn’t take the necessary photos for the article.”

“Distracted?” he repeated, his voice rising. "Do you have any idea how important this was? This was your responsibility! This was your chance to prove yourself, and you blew it!”

“I’m really sorry,” you said again, fear evident in your voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Sorry isn’t good enough!” he snapped, his face flushed with anger. “Do you realize the consequences of your negligence? We have deadlines! We have standards! And you... you chose to shirk your duties for what? A bit of fun?” Tears welled up in your eyes, and you stared at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. “I… yes. I messed up. I’m really sorry.”

“You’ve let everyone down,” he continued ruthlessly. “You’ve let me down. You’ve let the whole publication down. We trusted you with this responsibility, and you proved that you can’t handle it. You’re a disappointment.” Each word was like a blow, and you felt yourself shrinking under his tirade. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again, feeling utterly defeated. Mr. Kim’s voice was cold and sharp. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’re out of the publication. Pack your things and get out of here.”

Numbly, you gathered your belongings, shoving them into the box that had once held the snacks from Wooyoung. You kept your head down, avoiding Mr. Kim’s gaze as you left the office, your chest tight with shame and regret. You quickly placed the box in your locker, then spent the rest of the day avoiding everyone. You couldn’t face Yeosang, Karina, and especially Wooyoung. Not now. When you finally got home, the tears you had been holding back all day spilled over. You collapsed onto your bed, clutching the camera that held the memories of the festival. As you scrolled through the pictures, your sobs grew louder. The happiness you had felt seemed like a distant dream now, replaced by a crushing sense of guilt and failure. Unable to bear the loneliness, you called Yeosang. He arrived quickly, his face etched with worry as he took in your tear-streaked face. “What happened?” he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with concern all the same.

Between sobs, you explained everything. “I forgot to take the pictures... Mr. Kim kicked me out... I messed up, Yeosang. I should’ve known better.” Yeosang’s expression hardened, but his touch was soft as he hugged you. “Hey, don’t say that. None of this is your fault,” he said firmly. “Mr. Kim is an idiot for not seeing how hard you work.”

You shook your head, unable to accept his words. “It is my fault. let myself be happy for once, and this is what happens. I should’ve known better.” Yeosang held you tighter, his own heart breaking at your pain. “You deserve to be happy. It’s not wrong to enjoy yourself.”

“But I neglected my duties,” you argued, pulling away slightly to look at him. “I failed, Yeo. I failed everyone. I let myself down.”

"No, you didn’t,” he insisted. “You work harder than anyone else. You put everything into this job, and you deserve a break. You deserve to be happy. Mr. Kim is wrong. He’s wrong to treat you like this.” You shook your head again, the tears flowing freely. “I can’t believe that. I can’t.”

“Please,” Yeosang pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. “Please believe me. You are not a failure. You are not a disappointment. You are amazing, and you deserve so much more than this.”

But you couldn't hear him. The words of Mr. Kim echoed in your mind, drowning out Yeosang's reassurances. You buried your face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He held you close as he whispered soothing words, trying to comfort you even though you refused to accept his validation.

The next day at school, Minjae noticed your absence from the office. Confused, he approached Yeosang, who was sitting alone at one of the desks, still fuming from what happened yesterday.

“Hey, where is she?” Minjae asked, frowning. Yeosang sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mr. Kim kicked her out. She... she forgot to cover the event, and he went off on her. It was brutal, Minjae. He said things—awful things. Called her a disappointment, said she didn’t deserve to be here.”

Minjae’s eyes widened in shock and then eventually narrowed in fury. “He said that? Are you serious?” Yeosang nodded. “Every word. It was like he didn’t care at all about how much she’s done for him and us as well.”

Minjae’s jaw tightened. “This is bullshit. She’s the reason this publication runs smoothly! She does more for this place than he ever has.” Without another word, Minjae stormed off to Mr. Kim’s office. Yeosang didn’t even try to stop him, knowing whatever Minjae was about to do to Mr. Kim, it would be well-deserved.

Minjae stormed into Mr. Kim’s office, his fury palpable. The door slammed against the wall, causing Mr. Kim to look up in shock. The typically composed Minjae was anything but calm, his eyes lit with anger.

“How could you do this to her?” Minjae yelled, slamming his hands on the desk. “How could you treat her like this after everything she’s done for this publication?” Mr. Kim looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion. “Excuse me?” he said, his voice cold.

“You heard me, you old hag,” Minjae said, rolling his eyes. “She’s the reason this publication is what it is. She’s been overworked and underappreciated, and the one time she takes a break, you punish her? How dare you!”

Mr. Kim’s jaw tightens in annoyance. “This is not your concern, Minjae.”

“Not my concern?” Minjae echoed, his voice rising. “You’ve got some nerve. Kicking her out is the worst decision you could make. She acts more like an advisor than you ever have. Without her, this publication will fall apart.” Mr. Kim stood up, trying to assert his authority to get the upper hand. “That’s enough. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about,” Minjae shot back. “Without her, you wouldn’t have a clean image. People wouldn’t praise you and your publication. You don’t deserve any of the credit she’s brought to this place.”

“You’re out of line,” Mr. Kim said coldly, brows nearly touching one another. “And you’re out of your mind if you think this place will survive without her,” Minjae retorted. “She’s been carrying this publication on her back, and you have the audacity to call her a disappointment? She’s worth more than you ever will be.” Mr. Kim’s expression faltered slightly, but he tried to regain control. “This is not up for discussion.”

“It better be,” Minjae said, his voice deadly calm. “Because if you don't take her back, I’ll make sure everyone knows what kind of person you really are. I’ll expose every filthy secret you’re hiding. Do you understand me?” Mr. Kim’s face turned pale, struggling to find the right words to shoot back for a fleeting second—he wouldn’t dare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” Minjae said. “You think you’re untouchable because you’ve managed to hide your true nature behind a facade of competence and authority? Well, I’ve had enough. We’ve all had enough. You have no idea how much we know about you. All those late submissions you blamed on us? We know they were because you were out of the office, drinking away your evenings instead of doing your job. Those articles you claimed credit for? Everyone knows it was her who wrote them, who polished them until they shined. Without her, you’re nothing but a fraud.”

Mr. Kim tried to interject, but Minjae was on a roll, his voice growing louder with each word. “Do you remember the budget issues last year? The ones you blamed on a miscalculation? We all know you skimmed off the top for your little ‘business trips.’ You’ve been siphoning funds meant for student activities for your own use. How long do you think it will take before the administration finds out? Before the parents find out?”

“You have no proof,” Mr. Kim said, but his voice trembled slightly. He was losing, and Minjae loved seeing him crumble down.

Minjae leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “Proof? I don’t need proof to start talking. Once people start asking questions, it’s only a matter of time before everything unravels. Take her back, or I’ll make sure you never work in education again. I’ll drag your name through the mud until there’s nothing left of your precious reputation.” Mr. Kim stared at Minjae, realizing the seriousness of his threat. He knew Minjae wasn’t bluffing. “Fine,” he said finally, his voice low. “I’ll consider it.”

“Consider it?” Minjae echoed, incredulous. “You better do more than that. You better make it happen, or I swear, I’ll make your life a living hell. She deserves better than this, and if you can’t see that, you don't deserve to be in this position.”

—

You’ve been absent for days now. The weight of your mistake at the festival sits heavily on your shoulders, and you can’t bring yourself to show up at school. The festival was one of the most important events of the year, and you let yourself be selfish enough to prioritize your happiness instead of doing your job. The guilt gnaws at you, making you feel like a disappointment. You can’t face anyone—especially Minjae. After reconciling with him, you’ve heard from others that he always talks about you being his role model and how you played a huge part in his development. The thought of showing your face to the junior who looks up to you after making such a big, disappointing mistake feels pathetic.

Karina has also noticed your absence and questioned Yeosang about it when she crossed paths with him in the halls. Yeosang, respecting your trust, explained the situation but asked Karina to keep it confidential. The way Karina sees Mr. Kim has drastically changed, but as much as she wants to take action against him, she respects your request to stay silent. Instead, she checks up on you, trying to provide the support you need.

One day in the middle of the week, you and Yeosang are hanging out together in your apartment. You find yourself checking the photos on your DSLR again, and your chest tightens after coming across the candid photo of you and Wooyoung releasing your lanterns up in the night sky. You didn’t know genuine happiness would come at such a huge cost. Yeosang notices your distress and asks, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh, struggling to hold back tears. “If Wooyoung asks you about my absences, please don’t tell him anything.” Yeosang looks confused. “What? Why?”

“I can’t afford to mess up again,” you say, your voice void of emotion. “I can’t afford distractions. I need to cut the string connecting me to Wooyoung.” Yeosang hesitates, trying to find another solution. “Are you sure? Maybe there’s another way…”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “I don’t want to do it, but it’s what has to be done. If I keep Wooyoung around, who knows what else I’ll mess up? I don’t want him involved in my troubles.”

“But wouldn’t that hurt you?” Yeosang asks softly. “It already is hurting me,” you whisper. “But I have no choice.”

A week has passed since then, and it was now the last week before the championships. The day after the festival, Wooyoung noticed your absence but thought nothing of it at first, assuming you were busy. But as your absences spanned an entire week, he couldn’t help but worry. On Friday last week, he finally asked Yeosang about it.

“Please be patient with her,” Yeosang had said, offering no further explanation. This left Wooyoung confused and anxious. He wasn’t used to the absence of your presence and was increasingly worried about your wellbeing

This week, you finally muster the courage to return to school, but you avoid Wooyoung at all costs. You look sad, as if you’ve gone back to being the girl you once were before he got to know you. Wooyoung keeps trying to approach you, crossing paths with you on purpose and calling you, but you avoid him, even though it hurts you deeply.

Wooyoung has been constantly distracted and unfocused lately, his thoughts consumed by you. He keeps wondering if he did something wrong, if he unintentionally hurt you. During one particular practice round, he zones out and gets hit in the face by the football. Hongjoong decides he’s not in any shape to continue and tells him to take a break. Sitting on the bleachers, Wooyoung is visibly frustrated, his body language tense. The team continues practicing, but Yunho notices Wooyoung’s state. The sight of Wooyoung being unhappy pains him, and he ends up tripping himself on purpose to earn a break and join Wooyoung on the bleachers.

“Hey, you alright?” Yunho asks, sitting beside him. Wooyoung snaps, “Does it look like I am?” Then, realizing his rudeness, he sighs. “Sorry, I’m just stressed.” Yunho waves it off. “It’s all good. What's got you so distracted lately?”

When Wooyoung doesn't answer, Yunho guesses, “Photo girl?” Wooyoung sighs, and this serves as the confirmation Yunho needs. “What happened? I haven’t seen you two together, or even her around lately.”

“I don’t know," Wooyoung admits. “I asked Yeosang, but he just said to be patient with her. She’s been avoiding me, and it reminds me of when she used to hate me. It’s like we’re back to square one.”

“And why do you think that bothers you so much?” Yunho asks gently. “I don’t know why she’s affecting me this way,” Wooyoung says, his frustration evident. “Why I’m so worried about her, why she’s all I can think about. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Yunho looks at him thoughtfully. “Are you two dating?”

Wooyoung shakes his head. “No.”

“You should be.”

Wooyoung looks at him, confused. "What?"

"You only being able to think about her isn’t something that happens just casually to anyone,” Yunho explains. “You’re in love with her. Everyone can see it, but it seems you have no idea.” Wooyoung stares at Yunho, confusion etched on his face. “What are you talking about?”

Yunho sighs, deciding it's time to lay it all out. “Think about it. You’ve been troubled over her absence, worried about her well-being, and sad that she’s avoiding you. That’s not just a concern for a fellow citizen, Woo. It’s more than that. You’ve been affected by everything she does because you care deeply about her, more than just as a friend.”

Wooyoung's brows furrow as he tries to process this. “But... how can you be so sure?” Yunho leans back, trying to find the right words. “Remember when she used to avoid you and us as well? It bothered you then, too, but you were persistent. You wanted to know her, to be close to her. And now, when she finally opened up and let you in, she’s gone again. That emptiness you’re feeling? It’s because you love her, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s mind races as he recalls all the moments with you—the laughter, the shared secrets, the warmth he felt whenever you were around. “But if I love her, why didn’t I realize it?”

Yunho shrugs. “Sometimes, we’re too close to the situation to see it clearly. It’s like being in the middle of a storm and not realizing how bad it is until someone points it out. You’ve been so focused on her that you didn’t notice your own feelings.” Wooyoung looks down. “So, what am I supposed to do now?”

Yunho puts a hand on his shoulder. "Yeosang told you to be patient with her, right? That means she’s dealing with something, and she needs time. For now, you need to wait until she feels ready to approach you again. When that time comes, you can tell her how you feel.” Wooyoung’s frustration seeps into his voice. “But waiting is driving me insane.”

Yunho chuckles softly. “I know, but sometimes, waiting is all we can do. She’ll come around eventually. You just need to give her the space she needs. In the meantime, focus on being there for her when she’s ready. Just hang in there, okay?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says, feeling a bit lighter. “I’ll try.”

—

It’s now the day before the championships. As you walk to your first class, you pass by Mr. Kim in the hallway. You intend to greet him quickly and keep your head down, but he stops you. “Come to my office after school,” he says, his tone surprisingly neutral.

You look up, expecting his usual condescending demeanor, but instead, he seems different—awkward, for a lack of a better word. You nod, too puzzled to speak, and watch him walk away. You stand there for a moment, your mind racing with questions. Little did you know, Wooyoung had watched the interaction from afar, his curiosity piqued.

During lunch, you and Yeosang return to your usual spot in the cafeteria. The cafeteria is filled with chatter and laughter, but your table is unusually quiet. You poke at your food, lost in thought, replaying Mr. Kim’s words in your head. The weight of your mistake still lingers within you. Yeosang notices your distant expression. “What’s on your mind?” he asks gently, taking a sip of his drink.

You hesitate, biting your lip. “Mr. Kim told me to come to his office after school.” Yeosang raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “Really? What for?” You shrug, feeling a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. “I don’t know. It’s just strange. He didn’t seem... angry. Which was odd.”

A thoughtful look crosses Yeosang’s face. “Maybe he’s going to take you back,” he suggests, trying to infuse some optimism into the conversation. You look at him skeptically, your brow furrowing. “Why would he do that after lashing out at me? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Yeosang realizes you don’t know about Minjae confronting Mr. Kim. He decides to keep it to himself, not wanting to raise your hopes prematurely. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, who knows? The possibilities are endless. Maybe he realized he was too harsh.”

You glance around the cafeteria, your eyes scanning the sea of students. Your shoulders slump slightly when you don’t see who you’re looking for. Yeosang notices your wandering gaze and the faint disappointment that crosses your face.

“Who are you looking for?” he asks, though he already has a hunch of who it could be.You shake your head, trying to dismiss the thought. “No one,” you mumble, returning your attention to your untouched meal. A heavy silence falls between you, filled with unspoken thoughts. Finally, you break the silence, your voice tinged with worry. “Wooyoung doesn’t seem to be in good shape lately.”

“... Are you worried?” Yeosang asks gently, his eyes searching your face. “I don’t know,” you admit hesitantly. “I just hope he’ll do well in his championships.”

Later on after school, with a mix of trepidation and hope, you make your way to Mr. Kim’s office. When you reach the door, you take a deep breath and knock. “Come in,” Mr. Kim’s voice calls from within. Entering the office, you find Mr. Kim seated at his desk, looking unusually contemplative. The sternness that typically defines his demeanor seems to have softened slightly, replaced by an air of awkwardness. He clears his throat, eyes darting around the room as if searching for the right words.

“Sit down,” he says, gesturing to the chair placed in front of his desk. You do as you’re told, hands clasped tightly in your lap, waiting for him to speak. The silence stretches, thick with anticipation. Finally, Mr. Kim begins, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened,” he says, avoiding your gaze. “About the festival and your... lapse in judgment.” You nod, bracing yourself for another scolding. But instead, he continues, his tone less harsh than you expected. “I was too severe. You’ve been a dedicated member of this publication, and I realized that one mistake shouldn’t overshadow all your hard work,” he admits, looking almost embarrassed.Your eyes widen in surprise.

“What do you mean...?” Mr. Kim shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself. The championships are tomorrow, and I want you to document it thoroughly. That will be the basis for whether or not I reinstate you.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was this real? With the amount of times you’ve made up scenarios in your head about how things could’ve turned out had you not been reckless, you’re not even able to distinguish this between a fragment of your imagination or reality anymore.

Tears well up in your eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. Kim. Thank you so much,” you say, your voice filled with an overwhelming amount of gratitude. He nods curtly, clearly uncomfortable with the sentiment. “Yes, well… you can go home now. Don’t let me down.”

You thank him again, nearly tripping over yourself in your haste to leave. As you step out of the office, a smile spreads across your face, the burden of the past few days lifting. You practically run to the school gates where Yeosang is waiting, and when he spots you, his face lights up with curiosity and concern. Seeing the tears in your eyes and the smile on your face, his worry quickly turns to joy.

“Hey, what’s—”

Before he can say anything else, you blurt out, “Mr. Kim is giving me a chance! He wants me to document the championships tomorrow!”

Yeosang’s eyes widened in surprise and happiness. “That’s amazing! See, I told you! I knew he couldn’t just throw you out like that,” He pulls you into a tight hug, the two of you celebrating in joy. It feels like an eternity has passed since you last smiled, even though it’s only been two weeks.

“Thank you for always believing in me,” you say, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’ll never not believe in you,” Yeosang replies proudly, his smile genuine. As you both revel in the good news, the football team exits the school after their practice match, their boisterous voices filling the air. Wooyoung lags behind the group, his usual exuberance dampened by a quiet melancholy. When he spots you and Yeosang celebrating, he stops in his tracks, a look of yearning and sorrow crossing his face.

For him, time seems to slow. He watches the joyful interaction between you and Yeosang, a pang of longing hitting him hard. His heart aches with a mix of regret and confusion, feelings he has been struggling to understand ever since you started avoiding him. You, still caught up in your conversation with Yeosang, fail to notice Wooyoung. Your back is turned to him, and you’re too wrapped up in the moment to sense his presence. But Yeosang sees him, and their eyes meet. Yeosang gives Wooyoung a small, supportive smile.

Wooyoung tries to return the smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He turns away, rejoining his teammates as they head out of the school gates, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and unresolved feelings. As he walks away, he can’t shake the image of your happy face, feeling more eager than ever to find out what went wrong and how he can make it right.

As you and Yeosang walk home, the excitement of the conversation with Mr. Kim begins to wear off, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. The realization hits you like a freight train. Documenting the championships means being on the field, watching Wooyoung play. It means being in the same space as him after all your efforts to keep him at a distance.

You stop abruptly, causing Yeosang to look back at you with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks. You sigh, rubbing your temples. “I just realized documenting the championships means I’ll have to be around Wooyoung—after all this time I’ve spent avoiding him.”

Yeosang nods thoughtfully. “Oh… right. But, hey, Mr. Kim already gave you a second chance. There’s no longer a need to distance yourself from Wooyoung, right? I mean, it’s clear that avoiding him has been really hard for you.”

You let out a bitter laugh. "That makes sense, but... I’ve been avoiding him for two weeks straight without telling him what’s wrong. The last time we interacted, everything was fine. Now, I’m worried that he thinks he did something wrong. That’s all I can think about whenever I see him on campus and I act like he doesn’t exist. The guilt has been eating me alive.”

Yeosang gives you a sympathetic look. “I get it. But hey, you had your reasons, right?” You nod in agreement. “Well, yeah. But I don’t understand why Wooyoung is still trying to get my attention when I’ve made it clear that I can't talk to him.”

Yeosang chuckles softly. “Oh, that's simple. He’s in love with you.”

You stop dead in your tracks, staring at Yeosang in disbelief. “What are you talking about? Stop joking.”

Yeosang shakes his head, his expression serious. “I’m not joking. Wooyoung is in love with you. Think about it. All the times he’s gone out of his way to be near you, the way he looks at you, the effort he puts into getting your attention. Those aren’t the actions of someone who’s indifferent, are they?” You frown, trying to process his words. “But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he be in love with me?”

Yeosang sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re still not seeing it, are you? Let me spell it out for you. When you first started avoiding him, it was clear he was confused and hurt. But instead of giving up, he kept trying to find out what went wrong. He’s been distracted during practices, worried sick about you. He asked me about you, and I told him to be patient. He’s been following that advice, even though it's tearing him apart.”

“I didn’t realize…” you trail off, feeling your guilt spread even further. Yeosang continues, “And then there are all the little things. The way he lights up when you’re around, the way he’s always willing to do anything just to try to make you smile, the way he watches you when you’re not looking, the way he talks about you to others. He’s never given up on you, even when you’ve given him every reason to.” You swallow hard, the weight of Yeosang's words sinking in.

“And what about you?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Do you love him?” he asks, his voice gentle but probing.

You open your mouth to answer, but the words get tangled in your throat. Do you love Wooyoung? You stop to think, memories flooding your mind. You remember the first time you met him, how he annoyed you with his relentless enthusiasm. But over time, that annoyance turned into something else. You began to appreciate his persistence, his kindness, and his unwavering support. You recall the times he made you laugh, even when you didn’t want to, and the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to cheer you up.

You think about the countless moments you’ve shared, the conversations you had when it was only the two of you around, the time he invited you to play football with him so your spirits could be lifted up, the unspoken understanding between you. You remember the way your heart would race whenever he was near, and the ache you felt when you had to push him away.

“I... I don’t know,” you finally whisper, though deep down, you realize you do know. You’re just afraid to admit it.

Yeosang smiles softly, as if he can see right through you. “Maybe it will all make sense to you tomorrow during the game.”

—

The atmosphere in the locker room is thick with tension. It’s the day of the university football championships, and everyone is preparing themselves mentally and physically for the big game. The sound of cleats clicking against the tile floor, the rustle of jerseys being pulled over heads, and the occasional nervous banter fill the room. Wooyoung sits on the bench, staring blankly at his cleats, his mind elsewhere.

Hongjoong notices Wooyoung's distant look and sits down next to him. “Hey, Woo,” he says softly. “You sure you want to play today? You don’t look too good.” Wooyoung snaps out of his trance, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I can do it. I can do it.” But even as he says the words, doubt laces his voice.

Hongjoong places a reassuring hand on Wooyoung's shoulder. “Look, I know what’s been bothering you. And I know it’s hard. But you have to trust me when I say she’ll show up.” But Wooyoung doesn’t seem to be on the same bright side as Hongjoong. “What if she doesn’t? What if she doesn’t come?” Hongjoong squeezes his shoulder. “Then you’ll play for yourself and for the team. But I have a feeling she’ll be here. Just trust me.”

The stands are packed with students, faculty, and supporters, all buzzing with anticipation. The announcers, Mr. Lee and Ms. Park, take their seats in the commentator’s box, ready to call the game. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the university football championships! We have an exciting match ahead of us today,” Mr. Lee announces enthusiastically.

“That’s right, Mr. Lee. Our home team will be facing off

against the formidable opponents from Eastside University,” Ms. Park adds. Their voices boom through the loudspeakers, introducing the two teams and hyping up the crowd. The players line up, waving to the cheering spectators. The opposing team looks formidable, their players tall and intimidating. The tension is palpable as both teams take their positions on the field.

Wooyoung scans the bleachers, searching for your face among the sea of people. He doesn’t find you, and his heart sinks. The whistle blows, and the game begins.

You, on the other hand, had just woken from your slumber—a little later than usual, as the adrenaline and mixture of emotions from the previous night kept you up. Panic sets in as you realize the championships are starting soon. You hurriedly get dressed, grab your camera, and rush to catch the bus, messaging Yeosang along the way. “Have the games started yet?” you type frantically. “They just started,” Yeosang replies. “Hurry up!”

Traffic is a nightmare, and every minute feels like an eternity. At the field, Minjae and Yeosang are already documenting the match. Minjae turns to Yeosang, a concerned look on his face. “Where is she? You said she was given another chance by Mr. Kim.” Yeosang explains your situation, and Minjae decides to cover for you until you arrive.

From the kickoff, Eastside University takes control of the ball. Their captain, Hanbin, swiftly maneuvers past the midfielders, displaying impressive footwork. He passes the ball to their forward, Gunwook, who attempts a shot on goal. “Gunwook with an early shot! But it’s blocked by Yunho, our goalkeeper,” Mr. Lee comments.

The home team tries to regain their footing, but their movements are sluggish, and their passes lack precision. Wooyoung intercepts a pass and starts to dribble down the field, but he’s quickly surrounded by defenders. He hesitates, looking for an open teammate, but no one is in position. He loses the ball, and Eastside counterattacks. “Eastside University is pressing hard. They seem to have a clear strategy to target Wooyoung,” Ms. Park notes.

Hanbin sends a long pass to their winger, Jiwoong, who sprints down the sideline. He crosses the ball into the box, and Gunwook is there again to meet it with a powerful header. “Goal! Gunwook scores for Eastside University. It’s 1-0,” Mr. Lee announces.

Wooyoung’s team looks deflated. Their coordination is off, with players missing passes and failing to cover their marks. Wooyoung tries to rally his team, but his own mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The ball is back in play, and Eastside continues their aggressive approach. Wooyoung manages to break through the midfield and takes a shot, but it goes wide. The frustration is evident on his face. “This isn’t looking good for our team. They need to regroup and find their rhythm,” Ms. Park says.

Finally, you arrive at the field, out of breath and frazzled. Minjae and Yeosang immediately give you a rundown of what’s been happening. “Wooyoung has been out of it,” Yeosang says, worry etched on his face. “Everyone's noticed. It’s obvious he’s not in his best form.” Concern floods your chest. “What do you mean he’s out of it?” Yeosang sighs. “He’s been distracted, demotivated. It’s like his spirit is just...gone.”

Your heart aches at his words. You bid him and Minjae farewell for the meantime and a spot on the bleachers, ready your camera, and prepare to do your job—yet you can’t help but let your worries cloud you.

The team’s defense is struggling to contain Eastside’s relentless attacks. A pass from Jiwoong to his teammate, Matthew, results in a one-on-one with the goalkeeper, Yunho. Matthew fakes left and shoots right, scoring his second goal of the match. “Matthew scores with a goal! It’s 2-0 for Eastside,” Mr. Lee exclaims.

Wooyoung’s frustration grows. He gets the ball again and tries to dribble past three defenders but is tackled hard. He hits the ground, and the referee calls a foul. “Free kick for our team. Wooyoung will take it,” Mr. Lee says.

Wooyoung sets up for the free kick, his eyes scanning the field. He curls the ball towards the goal, but it hits the crossbar and bounces out. The crowd groans in frustration, and their team calls for a timeout. “Snap out of it, Wooyoung! We need you in the game, not in your head,” the coach barks at him.

Wooyoung nods mechanically, but his mind is far away. The timeout ends, and the team drags themselves back onto the field, still trailing behind. As they line up for the final half, San sidles up to Wooyoung, giving him a gentle nudge.

“Look to your right.”

Wooyoung turns, his heart skipping a beat. There you are, sitting in the bleachers with your DSLR camera in hand, eyes focused on him. In that instant, the fog in Wooyoung’s mind clears, replaced by a surge of determination. He straightens up, his gaze hardening with resolve.

The referee blows the whistle, and the final half begins. Wooyoung’s transformation is immediate. He moves with renewed energy, his steps light and purposeful. The crowd senses the shift, their cheers growing louder. “Woah, Wooyoung is back! Look at him go,” Ms. Park exclaims from the commentary box.

Wooyoung intercepts a pass and starts a swift counterattack. He weaves through defenders with ease, his focus razor-sharp. He passes the ball to Jongho, who takes a shot. The opposing team’s goalkeeper, Taerae, dives, but Jongho’s aim is direct. The ball hits the back of the net. “Goal! Jongho scores! It’s 2-1,” Mr. Lee shouts.

The team feeds off Wooyoung’s energy. Seonghwa and Hongjoong step up their game, working in perfect harmony. Hongjoong makes a crucial interception and passes to Seonghwa, who crosses the ball into the box. Wooyoung is there to meet it, heading the ball into the net. “Another goal for Wooyoung! It’s 2-2. What a comeback,” Ms. Park cheers.

With the score level, the tension is at its peak. Both teams are giving their all, but Wooyoung’s team has the momentum. Wooyoung receives a pass from Mingi and charges towards the goal. He’s tackled hard, but the ball rolls to Seonghwa, who shoots and scores. “Seonghwa scores! Our team takes the lead, 3-2,” Mr. Lee announces, the crowd roaring in approval.

Eastside tries to equalize, but the home team’s defense is solid. Hongjoong makes a critical save, keeping their lead intact. As the clock winds down, the pressure mounts. In the final minutes, the ball is at Wooyoung’s feet. He dribbles past two defenders, eyes locked on the goal. He takes a deep breath and shoots. As if right on time, you capture the perfect shot with your DSLR, the ball soaring through the air towards the goal. The ball curves beautifully, sailing past the goalkeeper and into the net.

“Goal! Wooyoung scores the final goal! It’s 4-2,” Ms. Park screams.

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the match. The stadium erupts in cheers. Wooyoung’s teammates rush to him, lifting him into the air in celebration. They toss him up, chanting his name. As you capture the moment through your lens, you notice Wooyoung looking directly at you, a triumphant smile on his face.

When the team finally sets Wooyoung down, he immediately bolts toward the bleachers. You’re positioned at the very front, ensuring you have the best angles for your shots. Seeing him run toward you, your heart races.

“Hey, I—” you begin, leaning closer.

But Wooyoung doesn’t let you finish. He pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you so firmly it feels like he never wants to let go. The warmth of his body against yours is overwhelming, and for a moment, the world fades away.

The crowd gasps in shock, then bursts into squeals and screams, cameras flashing as they capture the moment. You’re about to tell Wooyoung that everyone is watching and taking pictures, but he speaks first, his voice muffled in your shoulder.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers, his words filled with raw emotion.

You pull back slightly, enough to look into his eyes, which are filled with a mix of relief, joy, and something deeper that makes your heart ache. “I… I missed you too,” you say, your voice breaking. The noise around you fades as you both stand there, lost in each other’s eyes. It’s as if time has stopped, and there’s only the two of you in this crowded stadium.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Wooyoung,” You speak up, your voice heavy with emotion. “I’m sorry for disappearing out of nowhere. I’m sorry for not telling you about what I was going through, I was just… I was scared. I should’ve—”

He gently shushes you, his hands on either side of your face. “Everything’s alright, okay? You’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me. And for the record, I don’t mind waiting for you a million times more—just as long as you promise me you’ll come back every single time, too.”

Behind you, the crowd erupts in cheers and laughter, but it’s a distant sound, an echo of a world outside this bubble you and Wooyoung have created.

“You’ll… you’ll stay now, right?” Wooyoung asks, and the worried tone in his voice strikes a chord right deep in your heart.

“I will. I won’t leave.”

Meanwhile, a little distance away, Yunho and Mingi are watching the heartwarming scene unfold. A week ago, they had made a bet about you and Wooyoung reconciling exactly during the championships. Yunho had been on the agreeing side, while Mingi had not.

Yunho grins and turns to Mingi.

“So, about that bet...”

🪞— lividstar.

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