#this is the first time i've attempted this challenge

[loserabby]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚.     𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌 (𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄) raider!bucky x farmer!reader

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ . ** MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOGI DO NOT GIVE ANYBODY PERMISSION TO REUPLOAD OR PLAGARISE MY WORK. IF YOU SEE SOMETHING I'VE WRITTEN ANYWHERE ELSE OTHER THAN HERE OR MY A03, PLEASE LET ME KNOW VIA ASK **

₊˚ 𓂃 ₊ ˚ ✧     coming anywhere near the leaman settlement was forbidden, unspoken but forbidden, by your family due to it's inhabitants. a community of thieves, retired mercenary and militia types, known for it's raider-for-hire groups that protect communities for a price. it's also the home of your secret boyfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 :     fallout au, established relationship, secret relationship, mentions of drugs/chems (only in passing), mentions of canon typical violence (both marvel and fallout), kissing, groping, tit-sucking, dry humping, fade to black (sorry), cliffhanger almost 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 :     3,382k

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :     this fic was originally written in my sluttystucky days just before i ghosted this blog for four years for someone's follower goal challenge i believe but i cannot for the life of me remember whose. i remember being really excited at the time as i was combining two of my big interests and then i just... forgot about it. i don't really remember what my full plan was for this and i didn't have the drive to finish it perfectly, so i will admit the ending is rushed (also faded to black for the smut because i just did not have the inspiration for it sorry) but i hope it ties together somewhat nicely for everyone. i'm not currently writing for marvel so please don't request anything but i liked this enough i didn't want to delete it either, so this will be the last bucky/marvel fic you get from me for a while.     [ read on ao3 ]

[ border credit ]     [ resources for palestine ]

Your hands are trembling by the time you get to the gates, struggling to lift the chain-link fences latch not out of fear but the cold and the rain, your body soaked to the bone from the trip you’d made just to get to Leaman. You were at least thankful for your coat, a hand-me-down from your father that took the brunt of the rain on your short journey to the settlement. No doubt it would be difficult come tomorrow to hide it’s drenched state but you’d certainly try.

You’d made your trip there a handful of times at this point, not that your family was aware of this. God no, if they knew you were anywhere near the inner parts of Brooklyn they’d never let you leave the farm — though these days your home was as safe as your parents thought the settlement was. Coming anywhere near the Leaman settlement was forbidden, unspoken but forbidden, by your family due to it’s inhabitants.

It was a community built of thieves, retired mercenary and militia types, known for it’s raider-for-hire groups and at first glance most would think the worst, your family and neighbours included, but the groups that were known to inhabit that space weren’t typical raiders. They protected their community and those around them for a price, which was the reason you’d come that very first time.

You remember how you’d trembled at the desk of the so-called Colonel of the Howling Commando’s, begging him to help protect your family's farm from the raiders that would pillage it. Your fathers last attempt to fight them off had only led to them becoming more aggressive and destructive, slaughtering livestock just to taunt you and prove a point. Your mother had sobbed for days at the state they’d left your father in too, his left eye so swollen from their assault you feared it would burst.

The man was older than the rest of the group you’d seen around their base of sorts, with a soft face that made you hope he was kind, sympathetic but your hopes were crushed when he’d pushed your measly pouch of caps back towards you and told you they were, unfortunately, not enough to buy his protection. Not your begging or your sobbing had swayed his opinion, asking one of his men to help you back outside but you’d rudely shrugged the other man off and fled before they could see you cry anymore.

So yes, if your family knew you were sneaking out — that you’d been sneaking out — into the heart of Brooklyn for months now, they’d be angry; but if they knew who you were leaving in the dead of night to see you, what the two of you would do, you can already imagine just how livid they’d be.

Despite the weather and the time of night, there’s more than just the guards on the settlements main road when you enter. There’s warm lights coming from the pre-fabs lining the street, some residents talking from their doorways to one another. You can see someone cooking under cover, the scraping of them stirring the pot sending a shiver up your spine.

Erik Selvig raises his mug to you in greeting and you return it with a small wave back, not wanting to seem rude as you rush through. You haven’t spoken to him much, not wanting to waste time the few times you’ve been here but from the sparse talks you’ve had and what you’ve gathered he was a nice man.

Unlike the regular folk who had either been in service or retired from being raiders or mercs’ he was a simple scientist from the Mojave Desert that had been picked up by another group on their return from New Vegas. You can see the hotel's lights illuminating the corner it was situated on, red LEDs revealing a man on the doorstep shooting up chems as you try to make your way inside.

The Hotel Indigo isn’t as warm as you’d hoped, or maybe the cold has finally seeped into your bones, but you’re thankful the rain is no longer beating down on you. Despite the fact it’s obviously run down, like many post war establishments are, you’re always in awe of it. It’s only three floors and a basement but you imagine from the detailing it must have been quite the place pre-war and compared to the far and few other hotels you’d stayed in during your life, it was one of the fancier looking joints.

It’s a large lobby you walk into, and surprisingly has a few renters and staff scattered around despite the time of night. It’s something you can never quite get used to, so used to the early nights your parents endorsed so you could all rise early. Unlike you, the other dwellers are not dripping on the floor with their feet squelching as they walk.

Behind the desk is a haunchy older woman, voice thick with a old world New York accent you get the feeling may actually be from the times based on her ghoulish physique, chewing out a full-time renter. When she glances up and sees you walking up she simply shoves him away, not finishing her words at the sight of a customer.

“Well if it ain’t the doll, back again so soon.” Her curt brow and smirk tells you she knows exactly why you’re here but before you can speak she cuts you off. “Right’cha know the rules, we got room if you got caps and payment up front.”

You nod frantically, hand immediately delving into the deep pockets of your fathers old coat as you try to fish out your caps purse. You know it’s there, felt the weight of it against your thigh as you made your way but the pocket you kept it in is ripped and digging it out when it falls through is less than graceful. “Did he arrive yet?” You’ve worrying your bottom lip between your front teeth, wondering whether you’re keeping him waiting or not and this routine has become familiar enough to the woman that she knows who he is without clarification.

“I wouldn’t be askin’ you for payment if I knew he’d made it here first, now would I. I’ve even kept your special nest free for the night too” Her exasperated huff makes you murmur your apologies but just as soon as you do she’s shaking her head and signalling you to stop. “C’mon now, none of that.”

Instead of responding you slide your caps onto the counter, one at a time until it’s the usual amount before taking the key she tosses carelessly onto the counter. “I’ll let your boy know when he gets ‘ere that you’ve arrived, Dolly”

“I don’t think he’d appreciate being called a boy, ma’am”

At that she scoffs, pulling a cigarette from under the counter and placing it between her lips. “Please, unless they’re older than me they’re all boys. And they’re never younger than me.”

You can see the barest of smiles making its way onto her lips when you laugh at that, ducking your head down, key in hand and making your way to the stairs before she covers it away. The floorboards creak under your feet, old and in places rotten wood making you feel like it's seconds away from making you fall through.

The room you’re looking for is on the very top floor, not that you imagine any of the other rooms look any different but apparently its almost immediate access to the fire escape was desirable to your boyfriend.

You make sure to give a small wave to some of the more friendly, familiar faces who have their doors open and keep your head down around those who aren’t so friendly or are unfamiliar. Quickly you make your way to the room, rubbing your hands together for warmth quickly before you even try the key in the lock.

When the door finally opens and closes behind you is when you feel as though you can finally breathe. Each time you sneak away for a moment alone with him, you always fear something will take you away — be it your father or Super Mutants — and it’s not until you’re actually behind this very door in the somewhat safe walls of the hotel that you feel that fear slip away.

The room isn’t very impressive, the furniture is mainly what survived the bombs. The floors had planks different to the original wood flooring where you can only assume the owners tried to patch up the holes, similarly to the walls. You would have guessed the holes were the reason you could hear exactly what was going on in the next room but you knew this place well enough now to know the walls are just thin. 

Every door opening and closing, the footsteps of guests and their chatter could be heard as if you were standing right by them. The bed is a double, though there’s two small mattresses beside each other in place of a double. They’re not clean, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen a truly clean and spotless mattress your whole life.

Standing up straight you finally peel the oversized trench coat off of your body and hang it off of the armchair in the corner of the room. While it had indeed taken the brunt of the rain damage, your dress was also wet and clinging to your form. This was your best dress, the one your mother insisted brought out your eyes and you’re already dreading how you’ll have to explain why you’ll have to wash it to her. It’s almost ruined.

Ruined.

It’s like a switch was flicked in your mind and you’re racing to the small mirror the room provides to see what you look like. Damn it, you think to yourself at the state of your face and hair. Your makeup is smudged, fixable but smudged and your hair is weighed down by all the rain water. Physically you cringe at the thought of how many people saw you in this state.

There’s nothing you can do with your hair or your clothes, nothing to dry yourself with at all. You’d quickly learnt that the Indigo didn’t have blankets available, something about how guests would often steal them. A waste of caps in the owner's eyes if they were losing out so often. No towels either, not even the barest hint of something you could dry yourself with. At least you knew Bucky would be here soon, his own blanket packed to keep you both warm in the night.

You were too busy trying to fix your appearance that the sound of the door opening startled you, your hand falling into place over your heart as you gasped. In the mirror you can see it’s only Bucky and your gasp tiers off into a breathy laugh. The soldier is quick to drop his bag to the floor, pulling his thick jacket off of him and immediately wrapping you in it, physically putting your arms through the arm holes himself. His hands roam your body, rubbing you in an attempt to warm you up.

You could care less about your state right now, your frozen hands cupping his face to pull him into the barest of kisses he’d allow before continuing to try and care for you, effectively halting your affection. “Shit, you’re shaking.” and truthfully had he not pointed it out to you, you don’t think you’d have realised you were in fact shivering.  Just as fast as he’d forced your arms into the coat's arm holes he was pulling them back out again, much to your confusion. It must play on your face because he stops.

“Gonna have to get you out of this dress, Doll, and warm you up. You’re probably gonna catch a cold an’ I don’t want you getting anything worse.”

“If you wanted me to be naked, Sergeant, you didn’t have to make up excuses” You tease, earning a deep chuckle from the man. His eyes roll fondly at you before he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, his hands falling to the hem of your skirt. He pulls the material up and over your head before balling it up and tossing it onto the worn couch the room provides, leaving you clad in only your underwear. He tries to help you out of those next, but you smack him lightly on the arm and fold your own.

“That’s my best dress, Buck! If you scrunch it up like that, it’ll crinkle!” The sound of your boots squelching beneath you reminds you to pull them off as you make your way to the dress, un-balling it and instead laying it out over the couch. You doubt it will be dry by the time you have to leave, but at least it won’t be crinkled.

There’s a fond smile on his face when you turn back to him and he’s holding his coat open and ready for you to get back into. “I don’t think I’ve seen you so desperate to get me in clothes before, usually you’re pulling them off of me” You tease, basking in the scent that envelopes you as his coat swamps your form again. Its gunpowder, leather and bergamot, with a trace of something else you can only identify as just Bucky.

“Never seen you looking like you crawled outta’ the ocean, doll, that’s why” His arms pull you closer to him and he tilts your chin up with a finger with a smile as he gazes down at you in his embrace. “Half expectin’ a Mirelurk to appear somewhere with you so wet” You feel yourself preen under the look he’s giving you, so full of love and warmth as he teases you, it brings a smile to your own lips. “I missed you, angel”

You don’t quite know what to say to that so you press up onto your tippy toes and pull him into a gentle kiss, the first in over a month since your last visit and hope it conveys how much you’ve missed him too. Bucky’s hands cradle your face, deepening the kiss and leaving you breathless, the more you try and pull away for air the more his lips chase yours, pulling you back in with greedy moans. 

It’s not until your back hits the wall that you realise Bucky’s been slowly moving you backwards, now crowding himself more and more into your space; Not that you think that’s even possible with the way he was already pressed so close, but he somehow defies that thought as he presses his thigh between both of yours, his torso almost pinning you to the wall as you writhe and whine. Whoever’s staying in the room on the opposite side of the wall voices their annoyance to your noises, banging firmly on the panelling and shouting for you both to shut up!

But the more you tried to bite back the whines, the moans, the soft fumbling of his name off your lips the more Bucky would chase them, his deep voice reminding you how much he loves hearing those noises, how you keen and the only thing you can call is his name. “Fuck him, ‘want you to make as much noise as you can, angel.” 

He’s got his lips trailing down the column of your neck, mournful at the fact he can’t mark it up like he wants so desperately to do, and your thighs trembling as his rugged hands gently guide your hips to roll against his thigh, slowly enough he’s slowly driving you wild. You can only mewl in response, which makes him smirk against the skin.

“Do you think you can do that for me, make some noise and let everyone in this damn Hotel know whose girl you are? Who makes you feel so good?”

It’s almost embarrassing how fast your head is nodding, forehead bumping against his face from your haste which brings a cocky look upon his face. His large hand quickly grasps your chin, stopping your needy display and he pushes his face further into your space. You can feel his breath on your face, your motions on his thigh stopping out of shock.

At that, he slowly lowers his eyes down to where your clothed cunt meets his pants before slowly dragging his eyes back up. You’re not entirely sure what to do, but from the small smirk that pulls at his lips when you shakily start to grind against his thigh muscles again, you think that you did as expected. 

Slowly his hands slide to your back, expert fingers toying with the clasp of your bra as you rock against him with a shudder. As your soaked bra falls, straps still caught around your inner elbows, Bucky’s attention is brought to the pebbled buds of your breasts. He’s unsure whether it’s from the downpour or the activities, but he’s quick to draw them between his fingers and massage the erect nipples with his thumb while the rest of his hands cup and grope your breasts.

His murmured encouragements as you babble incoherently, fucked out from the stimulation against your clit. What he thinks might be his name, or some garbled version of it, falls repeatedly from your lips as your movements speed up until your movements are halted by Bucky’s hands holding your hips firmly in place. You’re about to complain, so close to your climax you can feel the molten heat in your core bubbling just under your skin, but his soft words cut you off.

“You wanna know what I think, doll? I think it’s time I finally warm you up”

You’re almost dizzy for it, the promise those words hold between the lines. You were so close but this is so much better. Desperately you nod, bottom lip fat and pouty as you draw it into your teeth and whine. Bucky coos at this, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw as he lifts you up and carried you to the side of the bed.

Carefully he lays you down against the bare mattress and laves attention on you the way he knows you like it best, your cries and moans bouncing off the walls throughout the night.

The sun threatens to rise as you sneak back to your home, praying your father doesn’t hear the squelch of your soaked boots as you tip-toe into the house, that your mother doesn’t see how thoroughly drenched your coat and dress are. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d come home with obvious signs you hadn’t spent the night in your bed, like you ought to have, but that anxiety never left even after the months passed.

Prying yourself from Bucky’s arms had been hard, it was always hard but this time he’d practically clung to you - the warm heat of his body enticing against your still chilled one. You’d redressed, sliding your shoes to your feet with shaky legs when he’d asked you to stay. Stay at the settlement, stay with him, be his and you’d merely breathed out a quivering breath at the offer. No, his begging; because Bucky didn’t normally beg but she supposed this was the closest he ever would.

“I mean it, you’d be safe here. Be mine, I’ll put a damn rock on your finger if I have to but stay with me. Please, doll” His words fell from his lips like he couldn’t stop them from tumbling and you bit your lip, torn at what to do or say.

“I can’t, m-my family. They need me, they need to be safe”

“They’ll be safe, I can promise that.”

But you just tilted your head, shaking it with a conflicted look. “But you can’t promise that, not completely. No amount of caps could be bet on that, Buck, none. They need me on the farm, they’ll-” “Just think about it, please” He’d asked one final time, tentatively you’d agreed. And now as you settle into your bed, sleep clothes pulled back on, you can’t help but dwell on the offer - wondering what your inevitable answer would be in a month's time - until sleep finally claims you.

[smillie-face]

Huevember - Day #1

[redgearsmovin]

what if ,,movertober ,,,,

[sierra0451]

What the fuck did I just play.

[cadere-art]

tfw you procrastinate on a task for litteral years and when you finally get to it it only takes you an hour and a half.

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. The ending screen of the ULTRAKILL level P-2: Wait of the World. It was completed on Standard with a D rank, with 43 minutes and 47.094 seconds in time, 3020 style, and 59 restarts and kills both. The ranking board is blacked out so OP's steam username isn't shown, and on the other side of the screen the stats are unusually absent, indicating this is OP's first time beating the level. End ID]

sorry for showing up to liveblog ultrakill and then abandoning tumblr for five days in a row. It will happen again

[meggahamicide]

Disaster Twins 2025 🐢🐢

My boys! They look so vastly different in just two and a half years!

I loved doing this redraw, not only for experiencing first hand my newer process and how I've grown, but also being able to look at both finished versions side by side and having visible proof of the evolution of my art. It really goes to show that, while progress isn't always immediate and or linear, time and practice really does equal improvement in the end.

progress pictures, comparisons, and my thoughts on this redraw below:

First thing's first, looking at my old art I feel like those poses were the extent of my skill at the time, a real challenge that I set for myself, Leo in particular. I still appreciate them, especially for the first attempt I ever made at drawing any or the turtles, so going into the new one, I really wanted to emulate that same dynamic: Leo crouched down, supporting Donnie's elbow. But I didn't want it to feel as static.

In the new one, I wanted to be more lean in Donnie's pose, as if he's really putting his weight on Leo. Leo himself stayed relatively the same pose-wise, but I felt there was a way to push the pair of them to make it more dynamic. Hence, the perspective.

The second thing I wanted to tackle was the energy of the image. In the old one, I feel it gives more fun, pop-of-color vibes. It's energy was from me trying to take on the Rise style, of attempting to take on the vibrancy of the show and translate it to my art.

Now that I've had a few years to test what works best for me, I feel as though I've improved at balancing the color palettes a bit. I've always favored more muted tones, but always fought the Rise style to find the right give and take, but over time I found a happy medium that tends to lean toward those more muted tones for the body while still adding that pop of color, usually in the eyes or a source of light.

Rim lighting might just be part of my style at this point.

And lastly, I'd like to be able to compliment the original background, but it didn't work for the poses and colors I had going on on Donnie and Leo. The idea was to have a TMNT spray painted on a wall, but since the bodies covered most of the work, it was difficult to tell what was going on.

On the new one, I really leaned into the drama of the scene. They're ready to fight, they're moving, and they're a threat. I didn't want the background to fight with the characters this time around, so starting with the dark, monotone slate helped me smooth out the rest of the ambience before attempting the mystics on Donnie's bo, Leo's portal and what ended up being the wind. And finally the text. I intentionally kept it hard to notice, a small detail that added a bit more texture without distracting and also taking some of the blues and purples throughout the drawing. That last detail, the boy's names, was what I used to mimic the original background.

This ramble turned out a lot longer than I intended, feels like I should end it with "in conclusion" XD

Overall, I'm really happy with how this went and how I've grown since I started drawing tmnt art. Thanks for sticking around to listen to me chatter endlessly, please let me know if this is something you'd wanna read more of in the future!

[requinoesis]

Hello! Fellow shark lover here, so that means i absolutely love your art! What is your favourite piece youve made of all time and what inspired you to create it if anything did? 🦈

I'm so glad you like my shark art! 🦈✨

I had to think about your question for a while, but I think my favorite piece is this one. It's part of a series of illustrations set in the same world, created during the first Sharktober in 2020.

The story depicts a little pilgrim shark exploring the ruins of his own world, where he finds wonders created by his ancestors, now forgotten.

Even though his people have lost all hope, this little one is determined to restore the image of an ancient deity, once the ruler of the ocean spirit. This divinity, however, is corrupted by a sinister shadow that consumes it as faith fades.

If I were to try to describe the meaning of this story, I would say that the little shark could represent me. He symbolizes my own journey in exploring both the reality of sharks, which are on the brink of extinction, and the fascinating aspects of their biology, ecology and role in the world - things that are ignored and in danger of being forgotten. His journey to “purify” the tarnished image of sharks reflects my attempt to recover the fascination and admiration they deserve.

However, like the little shark, I feel powerless in the face of such a great challenge. Who am I to counterbalance the negative influence that the movie Jaws had and that reverberates to this day? It only took one movie to destroy sharks’ image; could the opposite be done with the same intensity?

The fact that it seems that only this little shark still holds out hope of restoring the lost ocean, while their people live daily lives resignedly, waiting for the end, perhaps reflects something personal for me. Many times, those closest to me have discouraged me from trying to help the sharks, saying that it was “useless" or that I should "fight for a more important cause”.

Just as the little shark chose to trust his heart and leave his village, I decided to trust only myself on this lonely journey. Still, I keep trying. From ruin to ruin, the little shark persists, restoring one spark at a time to the great cosmic shark.

Perhaps, at some point along the way, when I can no longer go on, I will be able to inspire others to continue this journey. May they purify more sparks, until the full image of the sharks is restored.

Currently, I'm thinking of using the world I've created of this little pilgrim shark as some kind of “ RPG Book” of my modern sharkfolk that you know, it would probably be called “The Buried Ocean”.

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

I've seen a lot of people lately harping about how "Wicked isn't canon to the Oz universe", "it's just glorified fanfiction", etc., and I can't express how silly that is, and how annoyed it makes me every time I hear it, lol. Baum's original Oz books were never meant to be some canonical series — they contradict each other constantly; Baum called it a "fairy story" with loose cohesion at best; and it only became a series at all because the first one got popular enough that Baum felt a duty to the fandom to keep making more (even after he had wanted to end it). And the 1939 film is every bit as much "fanfiction" as Wicked — it changes the story in both major and minor ways, including a complete shift of framing (i.e., making Oz into a dream rather than a real place).

Maguire's great contribution to the overarching legacy and lore of Oz was to harmonize the very weak "canon" of the older works with a different shift in framing: recontextualizing all of the prior Oz material as a revisionist history (going off of Baum's own idea framing of himself as a "Royal Historian of Oz"), and attempting to tell "the true story" behind the other works (fictively of course — we're never meant to literally think Maguire's version preceded Baum's, irl). In literary studies, this is called an urtext. The Wicked Years and its adaptations are as much "fanfiction" as the 1939 film: it's just self-aware of that fact in a way that earlier works weren't, and uses that perspective to deconstruct the material and explore deeper (and darker) themes — not simply adapting or reimagining the original text (as the 1939 movie did), but actively challenging it; interrogating it. It's not meant to be "canon" as such: it asks you to ask whether (and why) there is such a thing, and what that might say about the stories that we are meant to literally believe in, in real life.

[a-quiet-autumn]

forgot to ever post abt it but my laptop kicked the bucket and there's a decent chance when it gets fixed (IF we have the money to fix it) that it'll be factory reset which means i'll lose the new sims save i was playing in that was genuinely the most fun in a sims 4 save that i've had in years 👍 gotta love ts4 repeatedly killing my pc

[kthologue]

2 + 1 — gojo satoru

synopsis. two times megumi thinks gojo is a lost cause and one time he approves of the white haired idiot

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, ooc, misogyny (from the clan heads), he is so pathetic for his wife (nauseating!), slight yandere behavior, violence, in megumi’s pov, not proofread eep

notes. can you tell i've been obsessed with the apothecary diaries? >< also how long has it been since i've posted a fic? anyways... enjoy!

fushiguro megumi has always wondered how that blue eyed idiot managed to marry you. he must have resorted to underhanded tactics; or at least that's what the sea urchin suspects. though he's never voiced it, the question has bothered him since the day he first encountered the both of you.

nobara clicks her tongue. “this is borderline creepy.” her orange eyes are filled with nothing short of distaste.

“there’s more too,” megumi’s voice responded, carefully flipping the page. the delicate artifact in his hand is something that he should have not touched. perhaps he should have wrapped it with a talisman and destroyed it while he had the chance.

it was too late for that anyway, because not even a second later, gojo satoru bursts through the shoji doors of the classroom. 

with eyes blown wide as if they were caught committing a crime (they were), the first years who had pulled three seats up to a singular desk stare at him. satoru's eyes widen behind his blindfold as he catches sight of the object of their focus.

there lies in the middle of the wooden desk was the physics textbook that all first year jujutsu tech students were required to read. however, this wasn’t just any plain old textbook. it was gojo satoru’s former textbook. brimmed with doodles of their beloved [name] sensei and gojo himself when they were back in highschool.

any free space that was not filled with words were taken up by drawings of you inside of hearts and sometimes a depiction of a chibi version of the two of you.

a true testament to gojo satoru’s pining and devotion to you.

“sensei, we can explain–” yuji attempts to explain himself but gojo holds up a hand to silence the boy. 

unlike you, megumi finds it a lot more challenging to read the white haired sorcerer’s expression with the blindfold on. he wonders if his punishment will be a painful beating disguised as a sparring session (megumi will run to you, who will scare gojo into backing down). you have that effect on him.

it seems like the heavens have answered megumi’s prayers because gojo satoru doesn’t seem to harbor any anger at his shocking revelation.

“i can’t believe you guys found this old thing.” satoru dismisses his students’ personal space by leaning closely to observe the pages. the black haired boy makes a noise of disapproval, but was quickly cut off by his benefactor. “megumi, be grateful that i’m in a good mood today.” he doesn’t elaborate the ominous message, rather choosing to hum happily as he studies his own drawings.

megumi is smart enough to keep his mouth shut. 

“i never took you to be the pathetic type,” kugisaki continues to flip through the pages of the textbook. yuji nods furiously, as if to agree to her observation.

“you seriously never noticed?” megumi mutters under his breath.

gojo places a strong hand on megumi’s back, a languid smile on his face, “it was only natural, considering the lengths i had to go through to win her over.” he ignores the way megumi gasps for air.

“seriously?” itadori asks in disbelief.

“seriously.” gojo confirms wholeheartedly.

megumi shudders, recollecting memories of times before gojo tied you down for good.

2009

“sorry i’m late!” gojo bursts through the dingy apartment door with a convenience store bag in his arm. he was breathing heavily, an indication that he had run to the apartment. an uninterested seven year old megumi doesn’t bother leaving his place on the couch to greet his benefactor.

“they’re in the kitchen,” he says in his monotone voice, eyes never leaving the book that you had just gifted him.

“they?” gojo walks up to megumi to ruffle his hair aggressively. he receives a hiss in return.

“tsumiki and [name]?” the black haired kid says it like it was obvious. his sentence is accompanied with an eyeroll.

at the mention of your name, gojo immediately perks up. megumi imagines that if he were a cat, his ears would be swiveling and his nose twitching, attuned to pick up any trace of your presence. he had just learned that from the nonfiction book in his lap. 

“[name]?! here? now?” gojo’s eyebrows are raised all the way to his forehead. the white haired sorcerer immediately started fixing his uniform and hair. megumi thinks it was comical. he was a lost cause.

the snarky look on his face is quickly wiped off when he sees gojo leaning down, mouth wide open.

“oi brat, check my breath,” gojo opens his mouth wide for megumi to check. the black haired kid shrivels up into the couch the further gojo leans down. megumi considers summoning his newly discovered jujutsu technique, hoping to avoid his fate.

“—toru? what are you doing?” your voice, like a divine intervention, stops gojo from sending megumi to the depths of despair. a sigh of relief escapes his lips.

now it was his turn to watch gojo squirm. the older male’s face contorts to an awkward smile and all of a sudden gojo is reduced to nothing but a mess.

“don’t worry about it darling!” gojo slowly turns around to face you. “agh—?!”

megumi has to peek around satoru’s big frame to see what elicited such a response from the man.

he’s met with a wave of underwhelming familiarity. there you stand, clad in a frilly apron with a wooden spoon in hand, the essence of domesticity incarnate. the soft glow of the warm kitchen lights dances around you, casting a warm aura that seems to envelop the room.

“welcome home, satoru.” you give him your signature closed eye smile. “i mean, you probably don’t consider it your home but—“

you’re cut off by satoru banging his head on the nearest wall repeatedly. he’s muttering something under his breath that you don’t hear.

to his dismay, megumi's keen ears catch every syllable. satoru's voice, though hushed, carries a hint of longing, "what an angel," he whispers, his words laced with adoration. "just marry me already."

unamused, he watches while you try to desperately pry gojo from his strange outburst.

a lost cause indeed.

2009

in that very year, megumi learns that gojo’s efforts to win your affection had yielded no progress. it had become increasingly apparent that his frequent visits to megumi and tsumiki's humble home were motivated to immerse himself in the semblance of domesticity that your presence offered. megumi almost pitied the man, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew you deserve someone more sensible.

me

[name]

[nameeeee]

i’m dying.

and it’s your fault t^t

[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )���♡

excuse me?

me

i’ll have you know that i worked the hardest that i have ever worked to finish all of my paperwork so i could see you tonight… only to find out from megumi that you’re on a date?!!?

i feel like my chest is caving in. 

i’m going to throw up.

[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

oh this is what you’re interrupting my date for?

me

i’m going to be sick.

please tell me, is he hotter than me? wealthier? funnier?

megumi quickly looks away from gojo’s phone screen when the white haired male slams it shut and mutters under his breath a couple of curses. he’s pretty sure half of them were death threats.  honestly, couldn't you have attracted someone with more dignity?

“change of plans,” gojo claps his hands together. “movie night’s off.”

“what?” megumi protests, confusion etched in his features.

“our beloved [name] is getting swept off of her feet. you wouldn’t want that to happen, right?” gojo continues, his tone light but his gaze sharp as it bores into megumi's soul. something unpleasant coils in the pit of his stomach.

megumi feels a chill run down his spine, his mind racing with the implications of gojo's words. if you choose to date this new guy, he realizes, you won't need him or gojo anymore. and that thought terrifies him. it pains megumi to feed into gojo's delusions.

but he can’t let this unnamed suitor steal you away.

a wolfish grin makes its way to gojo’s mouth when he realizes that he’s won.

“what's the plan?”

2016

it was only years later that megumi had seen the true monster that lurks inside of gojo satoru. 

on a hot summer evening, amidst a gathering of esteemed clan heads, he and satoru found themselves in a traditional chamber. while the finer details of the meeting escape his memory, the image of the room that altered his perception of gojo satoru is etched in his mind indefinitely. the wooden walls, adorned with subtle yet elegant designs, speak volumes about the room’s significance as a venue for the most influential members of jujutsu society.

throughout the meeting, he finds himself driving in and out of focus, content to let his mentor represent the gojo clan. however, his attention is abruptly seized by a particular remark that cuts through the haze of his thoughts.

“how’s that whore of yours, gojo?” a clan head jeered, clearly drunk on the sake that was constantly refilled by the servant on the side. his flushed complexion is scarcely discernible thanks to the dim glow emanating from the few lanterns scattered around the room. 

there was only one person he could have been referring to: you. underneath the wooden table, his fingers tightened painfully into fists. pretentious bastards, megumi thinks.

another geezer rubbed his beard thoughtfully, “she has a nice body. perfect to be a concubine, but i would marry a more submissive woman.”

megumi's gaze stealthily darts towards gojo, seated beside him.

he’s startled to find the white-haired man wears a wide grin that belies a hidden truth. unseen by the elders before them, lurking beneath gojo's outward expression, is a manic gleam in his eyes—a revelation that sends a shiver down megumi's spine.

“i’d hold my tongue if i were you.” gojo satoru’s voice was dripping with venom. he sounded downright murderous.

"i'm right, am i not? we can share her if you'd like- name the price." the drunkard continues loudly.

megumi senses an instinctive wave of primal dread washing over him, compelling him with an urgent, almost instinctual need to flee or die.

before he can move a muscle, the flames that surround the room flicker before extinguishing in succession by an unknown force. the metallic stench of blood fills the air and all he can hear is the sound of flesh mutilating and bones crushing accompanied by the painful shouts of the men that once sat in front of him. he doesn’t have to see it with his own eyes to be able to sense gojo’s strong curse residue that suffocates the room.

“stand up megumi. we’re leaving.” his voice carries a feral edge, leaving no room for objection.

on their way out of the compound, the two don’t utter a word at what had just transpired. 

megumi's gaze remains fixed on the ground beneath his feet, the images of the recent events swirling in his mind, leaving him unsettled and shaken. with each step, he grapples with the unsettling realization that beneath gojo satoru's charismatic facade lies a darker, more sinister nature.

the strongest sorcerer of today, riled up by the mere mention of your name.

megumi supposes he doesn’t feel much remorse for those clan heads anyway. he was never the type to mourn over people he didn’t know dying. especially not people who he knew would live on to do evil. it doesn’t help that they were blatantly disrespecting you. perhaps he could sympathize with the monster inside of gojo.

oblivious to the turmoil that stirs inside of megumi, gojo starts to smile.

“i know what you’re going to say,” gojo hums happily. “gojo sensei, you’re so cool! i approve of you marrying my beloved [name]! kyaa~’” he makes a pathetic attempt to imitate megumi. 

the black haired boy grunts. he was going to say something along the lines of his approval for his benefactor, but all desires of flattering the white haired sorcerer disappeared.

gojo watches the black haired boy intently before tutting.

“not that it matters.” megumi is startled to hear how his voice dropped an octave. “i was always going to marry [name] and i’ll be damned to let anyone stop me.” 

2018 – present day

after satiating his students with tales from his pining days, your husband comes home often clingier than normal (is that even possible?). the moment satoru enters your home, his arms envelop you, caging you in his hold.

you can't help but giggle as his hair brushes against the side of your neck, his embrace pulling you in close, as if he's inhaling your presence.  his muscles flex when you attempt to slip away, keeping you in his tight embrace.

“sato– what is going on?!” 

“is it a crime to show my wife some love?” he kisses your neck. when his flurry of kisses stop, he resorts to absorbing all of your features with those cerulean eyes of his.

you don’t bother pushing him away again, choosing to thread your fingers through his soft hair. even after all these years, you will never not feel the effect of satoru’s eyes on you.

“i was telling my first years about you today,” he says softly.

you smile, “is that so?”

he pushes his nose into your neck again, nodding.

“you’re so good to them,” you whisper. despite the initial shock behind satoru choosing to pursue education, you’re extremely proud of how far he’s come.

“mhm,” satoru inhales. “i’d be good to our little ones too.” one of his hands sneak to your stomach.

you delicately guide his face away from your form, your fingers tenderly urging him to meet your gaze. "is there something you want to tell me?" you inquire softly, your eyes reflecting the warmth of your affection.

satoru's smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "perhaps," he murmurs, his touch light as he guides you towards the bedroom. without hesitation, you yield to his lead, eager at his sudden intimate gesture.

from outside your home, three first year students stand, waiting for their sensei’s cue to enter.

“do you think he’s forgotten about us?” yuji furrows his eyebrows, hands full of grocery bags that were going to be prepared for dinner.

extra notes. had the idea of gojo and megumi crashing your date in my drafts for so long. maybe ill elaborate on it if the ppl want to see :,)

[fireinmoonshot]

your fiyero | fiyero tigelaar x reader

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader Summary: Ever since Fiyero Tigelaar started at Shiz University, he found himself fascinated by you – the one student who didn't care about him. When he notices you starting to struggle with something, he'll do anything to make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of fainting, falling over, academic stress/burn out Word Count: 2.2k A/N: I've seen Wicked (the show) three times now with the amazing Australian cast that's currently touring and I fell totally head over heels with Fiyero, and then yesterday I saw the movie and fell even more in love with Fiyero and so I had to write for him. I do intend to write more for him, especially if other people want to read more! He's so fun to write for and definitely a challenge compared to some other characters I've written for in the past. I hope you all enjoy! 💗

It’s not difficult to sense the presence of Fiyero Tigelaar behind you as you leave Doctor Dillamond’s classroom, shoving your books into the bag over your shoulder. With the way the students heading into the classroom are staring at someone behind you, it’s quite obvious who they’re staring at. Everyone at Shiz University wants Fiyero Tigelaar. 

Everyone, that is, except you.

“Classes are over, you know?” Fiyero’s voice comes from behind you as you round the corner, heading down the staircase leading to the courtyard. “You don’t have to rush off.”

Irritatingly, the fact that you can’t particularly care less about wanting Fiyero Tigelaar makes himwant you. He usually isn’t the type. If someone doesn’t like him – something he’s actually yet to experience – he would just let it slide. Why waste his energy? But ever since he’d started at Shiz and met you, he’d found himself unable to leave you alone. 

“I know,” you glance back at him over your shoulder. “But some of us actually want to study and spend their time here learning, Tigelaar.”

Fiyero hurries his steps a little so he’s walking alongside you. “Did you miss the part where I said it was my job to corrupt my fellow students when I started here? It’s never too late, darling.” He flashes a grin your way.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, right at the same time you almost miss a step and stumble a little. Fiyero is quick, catching your elbow to help steady you. You don’t look at him as you steady yourself, meaning you miss the look of worry in his eyes.

“Are you all right?”

You clear your throat and shake off his grip. “Consider me corrupted by your presence.” 

With that, you make a beeline away from him and you’re glad to notice that he doesn’t attempt to follow you. You highly doubt that he’s going to follow you all the way to the library. Fiyero and the library have never exactly gone hand in hand. 

~~

The next time Fiyero bothers you, you’re sat on one of the benches by the gardens. There’s a book in your hands and he can see you staring intently at it as he saunters over to you. It’s almost like he’s approaching a wild bird or something, he thinks. If he moves too quickly, he’ll frighten you and scare you away. It’s the last thing Fiyero wants to do.

He’s a few steps away from you when you look up from your book and meet his eyes. His face breaks into a smile as he moves the last few steps and takes the spot beside you on the bench. You turn to look at him, your eyebrows raised. 

“Now, don’t say I’m interrupting your study,” he begins. “That book is most definitely not in the curriculum. And yes, I did actually take the time to look the curriculum up after I saw you reading here the other day, if you can believe it.”

For a few moments, you only stare at him. Fiyero, for the first time probably ever, finds himself actually a little uncomfortable at your unwavering gaze. It surprises him. He’s never the type of person to feel uncomfortable. He’s confident in almost every situation.

You let out a sigh. “It may not be in the curriculum, but you’ve interrupted me nevertheless, Tigelaar.”

“Apologies,” he says, with a small smirk. “Am I corrupting you even more with my presence?”

“Something like that.” You close your book and sit it on the small space of bench beside you. You had actually just been reading the same page over and over for the last twenty minutes and trying to convince yourself to stop overthinking things. 

You had so much studying to do, so much to learn and so many assignments to do and so little time to do it all. It was probably a little counterproductive to be sitting outside, reading a book and doing none of those things, but if you didn’t try and have a break from them all, you were pretty sure you were going to burn yourself out, which was the last thing you needed. It would have helped if you’d actually been able to relax and enjoy your book, though.

“Is it any good? Your book. Not that I’d read it, of course,” Fiyero grins.

You try your best to conceal your amusement. “I’d offer to lend it to you but, as you said, you wouldn’t actually read it so… I’ll keep it safe with me. I doubt the Winkie Prince knows how to properly take care of books if he can’t read them.”

Fiyero gasps jokingly. “I’ll have you know I can read, I just choose not to. I prefer to fill my brain with much more useless things. That way, I don’t have to think. It’s a peaceful way to live, my darling.” 

You shake your head, this time unable to keep a smile off of your face. Fiyero likes the sight of it. It strangely makes his heart beat a little faster. He can’t actually remember the last time he saw you smiling… not that he’s been keeping track. 

“How about you join me?” He offers. “No more studying for the rest of the day and no more thinking? I’m positive I could find something we could do to fill the time.” 

The reminder of studying, however, brings you back to reality after you small moment of joking with Fiyero. You reach down and grab your book before standing up and turning to face Fiyero, who is looking at you with slight concern in his eyes at your sudden movement.

“I can’t,” you say simply. “I’ve been reading all morning and there is a lot I have to do. I’ll see you around, Tigelaar.”

He watches you with furrowed eyebrows as you walk away from him, clutching your book to your chest and heading in the direction of the library. Fiyero shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. He really thought today would be the day he’d win you over.

~~

A week goes by without Fiyero even getting to utter a word to you. He sees you, though, fairly often around the school. In the courtyard, in the library (where he definitely didn’t go specifically looking for you), in history class and in the dining hall. But every time he’s thought to approach you, you’ve disappeared before he could even make his move. It’s on the seventh day when he notices that something is different about you.

You’re coming out of the library, carrying several books and what looks like a stack of papers in your hands when you trip. Fiyero isn’t quick enough to cross the courtyard and get to you in time to stop your fall. He does, however, take off at a run to be by your side as you start collecting all of the scattered pieces of paper and books that had fallen out of your grasp.

“It’s all right, Tigelaar. You don’t have to help me,” you mutter, trying to shove books into your already overfilled bag. “It’s a Friday night. I’m sure you’ve got other places to be.”

Fiyero, truthfully, does have other places to be. He’s been invited to the Ozdust Ballroom by nine separate people today. But how can he leave you to just clean all this up by yourself? He can see just by the look on your face that you’re utterly exhausted.

“I do,” he says honestly. “But I’ll help you with this first.”

He’s surprised when you suddenly stop putting things in your bag and when he looks up, he finds you staring at him again. It makes him uncomfortable in the same way he felt last week when you’d looked at him in a similar way. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Your lack of energy in fighting him is the second thing to make Fiyero realise something is wrong.

After the two of you finish picking up all of the things you’d dropped, the both of you stand. Fiyero opens his mouth to say something when he notices you start to sway. He’s quicker this time, moving to catch you before you fall. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you steady, while his other hand takes the book bag off your shoulder and moves it straight onto his. He’s surprised by how heavy it is. 

“Woah, darling, what’s going on?” Fiyero looks down at you as you blink and push yourself away from him. “Hey, be careful, okay? I think you were just about to faint.”

You shake your head. “I just stood up too fast, that’s all.” You know the words are a lie, and you can tell that Fiyero knows that as well. First, he’d seen you trip coming out of the library, then he’d caught you when you’d almost fainted… you can’t hide it from him. That much becomes crystal clear immediately.

“Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down, okay?” Fiyero begins. “May I?” He gestures to you, asking silently if he can wrap an arm around you to support you incase you fall over again. 

You nod and allow him to guide you just around the corner into the small seating area off to the side of the library. It’s dark, the lanterns not being lit yet despite the fact that the sun had gone down over twenty minutes ago.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy,” you say sheepishly. “That’s twice you’ve stopped me from falling in the last two weeks… I suppose I should say thank you, Fiyero.”

Fiyero sits you down gently on the bench and sits your book bag down on the ground. He crouches down in front of you and reaches up to take your hands in his. He’s surprised when you don’t immediately pull away from him. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before.”

“Oh,” you think on it for a second, trying to ignore the warm feeling of his hands and how comforting it is. “I guess I haven’t. Sorry, Tigelaar.”

“No, no,” Fiyero shakes his head. “Don’t go back to that. I like when you call me Fiyero.”

“Well, I suppose it is your name,” you offer a small smile.

“There’s that gorgeous smile,” Fiyero smiles back at you and squeezes your hands. “Now, are you gonna tell me why you almost just fainted on me and why you’re clumsier than you usually are, darling?”

You stay silent for a few moments and just when Fiyero begins to think that you might just brush him off and try to make a quick exit like you did last week, you start to speak.

“I haven’t really been sleeping well lately,” you admit quietly. “I’ve had so much work to do, I fell behind on my assignments and I took on some extra work from Doctor Dillamond and… despite my best efforts, I guess I let myself get a little burnt out.”

Fiyero looks at you with his eyes full of pity and you hate it. 

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “that’s not important. Why would you care?”

Your attempt to make light of the situation fails spectacularly, judging by the look that Fiyero gives you afterwards. You’ve never seen him look that unimpressed before. 

“Of course I care,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why, though?” You can’t help but ask. “Why are you so fixated on me?”

Fiyero sighs and moves to sit beside you, letting go of your hands in the process. “If you’ll allow me to be honest with you for a moment,” he starts, “I suppose… you’re the only person at Shiz that doesn’t treat me like the perfect Winkie Prince that everyone thinks I am. You’re the only person that doesn’t think I’m perfect, and half the time you act like you can’t stand to be around me, and for some reason that only makes me want to be around you more.” 

“Are you not the perfect Winkie Prince?” You ask.

Fiyero grins. “Oh, not in the slightest, darling. But let’s keep that between us. I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. How does that sound?” 

You don’t even try to hide the smile that comes to your face at his words. “You promise you won’t tell anyone about what happened today?”

“I promise,” he nods. “But only on one condition: you tell Doctor Dillamond you can’t complete the extra work you signed up for and you take a break to make sure you get plenty of rest before diving into your other assignments. I’m sure I can sweet talk some of the Professors if you need help.” 

He smiles as you hit him with the same look as before, but for the first time, he doesn’t find himself feeling uncomfortable at the sight of it. Now, he finds it slightly amusing and incredibly endearing. He has always found you endearing, he supposes.

“Sweet talking my Professors will not be necessary,” you chuckle. “But okay. It’s a deal. And I’ll keep your secret too. You can continue to be the perfect Winkie Prince to everyone… except me.”

Fiyero laughs. “I’ll just be your Fiyero, then.”

“My Fiyero?” You repeat after him, eyebrows raised. 

He ignores the way his heart beats faster at the sound of those words coming out of your mouth. 

“Yes, your Fiyero,” he hums. 

“Everyone will think that you finally corrupted me after all this time,” you joke, voice teasing. “I’ll just be like everyone else at Shiz. Part of the Fiyero Tigelaar fan club.”

Fiyero fixes you with a look. “Oh, darling. You could never be like everyone else.” 

[angelltheninth]

Do I know anything about the predator series? Not in the slightest. But god after watching killer of killers, Monsterfucker me came out and started rubbing her hands like a fly and thought what would it be like to a predator boyfriend (ya know if we’re lucky to be a mate to a predator) sooo may I request that? Obviously there’s hunting involved but with a twist hehe

I've always loved the Yautja, they're one of my favorite alien species. Especially loved them in Killer of Killers.

Pairing: Male!Yautja x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, predator/prey dynamic, hunting, alien sex, size difference, mating, human!Reader

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: My theory is that if they were real they would be too scared to visit us because we're too horny for them.

Your Yautja!boyfriend was hard before he even started hunting you down, the very idea of you being his willing prey and prize enough to excite him so much that you didn't know if it would be a problem for him to chase you

Before you started running your Yautja!boyfriend made it clear that he won't hold back, he will hunt you like means it

You ran from your Yautja!boyfriend like your life depended on it not because you were scared of him but because you wanted to give him a real challenge, not some easy trophy

Every time he got close you felt yourself growing wetter and you knew your Yautja!boyfriend knew it too, that he was just as horny as you were if not more because of his urge to capture and breed you

As you hide you try to get your heartbeat and breathing under control but every time you hear your Yautja!boyfriend getting closer you can't help but touching your pussy, being deliberately loud as you moan out and hear him make a deep growling noise in return

He doesn't appreciate you teasing him like this so your Yautja!boyfriend gets you running again by cornering you against a tree first and getting right in your face, his huge hands spreading your legs open, almost chuckling when you whine because he's not doing anything else right now, so you push him, or try to, and run once more

When your Yautja!boyfriend corners you again you fight back in his grip, you struggle, you punch and scratch and even stab him with a hunting knife only to have him pin you down, his cock twitching and leaking more and more with every attempt at your retaliation

Since he's so much bigger than you your Yautja!boyfriend wants you to be at least somewhat comfortable when taking his huge cock

Despite your Yautja!boyfriend trying his best to be careful you angle yourself above his cock, grinning as your pussy drips and coats it with your slick and urging him to inch his cock into your pussy, the structured girth stretching you to your limit

Knowing that he could handle you however he wanted, use you however you wanted, use your whenever you wanted, fuck you however he wanted fueled your love for your Yautja!boyfriend and how caring he actually was

Even in the thorns of his mating cycle your Yatuja!boyfriend kept your pleasure on the forefront of his mind, keeping you so tightly pressed against his body that with each one of his thrusts made your clit throb against his abs

Can't possibly get his whole cock inside you no matter how hard he batters at your wet pussyhole and it makes your Yautja!boyfriend frustrated

Won't warn you when he's about to come because your Yautja!boyfriend wants to surprise you with how much seed he's able to pump into your womb at once

Insistent on pushing his seed as deep into your pussy and having it stay there your Yautja!boyfriend fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you a shaking, almost limp, mess in his arms

Purring was about the only way to describe the noise coming from your Yautja!boyfriend in the aftermath of your mating

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[hannieween]

ladies' night | wicked games series | k.mg

Kim Mingyu came into your life at a time when you needed a friend the most. And that he was: a friend that you could confide in and laugh together, share your secrets with and perhaps, share a burden that was too similar to his.

☆ pairings: kim mingyu x female reader ☆ genre: angst, smut [18+] ☆ aus: bartender mingyu, friends to rebound fucking, fwb to lovers (attempt at a slow burn) ☆ word count: 16k

› read more

›🎧: rebound – woodz | mood – dpr ian | healing killing – tabber | whiskey – jay b | i can't read your mind – meloh | restless – bibi | pretty girl – highvyn, estée | night – keshi | get up – new jeans | cigarette – onoffon, tablo, miso | feeling lucky – bibi | underwater – red velvet | sabotage – hyejin | drown – baekhyun

› warnings under the cut

☆ warnings: alcohol consumption, smut with plot, sub mingyu, soft dom reader, pussy drunk mingyu, manhandling, mingyu is low key a simp, reader is so down bad for him it is embarrassing, reader is on birth control, both mingyu and reader are lowkey toxic, size kink, big dick mingyu, use of sex toys, squirting, masturbation, foul language, dirty talking, lots of making out, reader has a bit of difficulty reaching her high, a bit of dry humping, oral sex (f. receiving), body worshipping, cowgirl, edging, unprotected p in v sex, creampies, aftercare. pet names: baby, shorty, pretty, (hers)

☆ acknowledgements: first things first! big thanks to @nonuify who suggested the title for the series! thanks to @onlymingyus who suggested a cute pet name for reader (that is, sugar which will come in the future), @miniseokminnies, @bitchlessdino and @wonustars for helping brainstorming for ideas hehe ty ty 🩵

also thanks to vee and @wooahaeproductions who helped me proofread this 🩵

☆ author's note: helloooooo! welcome to the hannieverse! where every single fic i've written is connected somehow! this series is closely connected to heartbreaker. though i don't think it is necessary to read that one in order to read this one here, but if you haven't read that one yet, be my guest hehe

☆ author's note 2: we have another reader self-insert!! i wish i could start self-inserting the things that are actually nice about my life... and not angst, bad sleeping habits and heartbreak (┬┬﹏┬┬) anyway, i hope you all enjoy this one

☆ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please or i will block you.

ladies' night

Lately, work had become your second home.

Not by choice, no. It was a thing that you forced into your life to keep yourself busy. Running a business was not easy, but you had reached a point in your life where you no longer needed to work 16 hours a day. Now, you felt like you needed to be working all day long. Or else, you would go insane.

Routine. You swore by it. Wake up, get ready, go to work, traffic, clock off, more traffic, come back home, sleep, repeat.

You could make time for yourself. But there was nothing else to dedicate your time to.

Coming back to a half-packed apartment was quite discouraging. Boxes piled up. The furniture you worked so hard to buy, gone, sold. You did not even bother to turn on the light, you had memorized your way through the maze of cardboard boxes.

Maybe I should get a dog.

The keys hanging from your fingers jingled as you reached your bedroom, tossing them on the nightstand to begin undressing yourself and getting ready to sleep.

There was a row of neatly folded clothes occupying one side of the bed, clothes that were ready to be packed away. Or donated. Whatever you wanted to do the following day.

You finished peeling off the last piece of clothing from your body, neatly disposing of it in the hamper, and dragged yourself to do your nightly skincare routine.

The biggest, and probably recurring challenge you had to get through was going to sleep. You faced your bed, half covered by small towers of folded clothes making you feel a deafening agony that you could not get rid of.

You set your phone on the side table before commanding yourself to sit on the bed, your back to the piles of clothes. You had to purposefully ignore your phone before going to bed if you wanted to get an interrupted sleep.

Lying on your pillow, you stared at the ceiling, your arms sticking to your torso, fingers curled on the bedcovers. The part you dreaded the most.

You closed your eyes, avoiding every thought completely. It was a difficult feat, it was impossible.

Slowly, and tentatively, you slid a hand beneath the bed sheets, reaching out to your side, feeling the weight of the piles of clothes pressing down on your arm. The side of the bed would remain empty, and you never dared to sleep on that side.

The side where your former partner used to sleep.

A part of you itched to grab your phone. What was the point, you concluded, retreating your hand and sticking it to your body again. There was no point in trying to reimagine a life in which you had not asked your ex to leave. There was no point in wanting someone that left you feeling so empty.

Maybe I should sell the bed too.

You stared at the ceiling once again, your gaze outlining the four margins of the bedroom. Whenever the night got bad, you would do this, over and over, until everything faded to black Until you fell asleep.

You woke up before your alarm went off.

It took you some moments to realize that you did not have to go to work that day. A heavy reluctance fell upon you, making it harder to drag yourself out of the bed you were planning to sell the night before.

You brushed the thought off. Okay.

You were okay. You were going to be even better.

The morning was bleak, the pale light making you squint your eyes as soon as you drew the blinds up. But you started working at once. The first task was putting the clothes in boxes, emptying space on the bed.

You wasted no time, removing the covers and the bed sheets without much thought. You did not want to think that even though you washed the pillowcases, you could still smell your ex's cologne in them. You did not want to think back to the time you bought the bed sheets with him when you moved in together.

It was too late.

Crushed, you closed the moving boxes, moving them into neat piles. The silence was nearly deafening.

You sat on the bed and waited.

The doorbell rang. People came in and stuffed a van full of all of the boxes and the bed. When it was time to go, you took one look at the place you swore you would live with the love of your life for a long while and closed the door behind you.

Three months later.

Your old routine started to tear you down. A silent killer, slowly destroying bits and pieces of your already fragile state. You were too slow or too ignorant to see it, but in protecting your precious routine, you were destroying yourself.

First, it was your sleep. Then, it was your closest friendships. Then, you could no longer pay attention at work. You were tired, and alone.

Enough is enough, you told yourself sternly.

You decided to do new things. Explore a bit more, distract yourself, pamper yourself. Watch a new show someone recommended to you ages ago, or actually read one of the books you bought and forgot.

Living in a new part of town should not be this challenging.

You knew every single corner of the neighborhood, yet you knew no one. And living in a city so vast and so populated demanded you to do activities in the company of someone.

Part of running your own business meant that you could manage your own time. That you did, shaving some hours off of your heavy and self-inflicted work schedule and taking some time for yourself.

The first thing you did was go shopping since it could be one activity you could do by yourself. And it was distracting. You went back home, and read that book.

Maybe I could put on this show while I unpack.

Some things were still kept in boxes from when you moved into the new apartment. Mainly those with stuff you did not require immediately. Clutter. Mostly bought by you to make your other apartment feel more lived in.

Time went by and you finished watching that show. You finished reading through the pile of books you got ages ago. You bought new clothes, and got rid of those that once occupied your ex's side of the bed.

You were slowly becoming someone else.

Waking up to a new reality happens in an instant. In the middle of the day. In the middle of traffic. It is realizing that in the past you is no longer present, and you need to become someone else to fit into that reality.

At least, that was how it felt.

The red light turned green, and you pushed yourself through the traffic slowly. Maybe I should sell the car. You turned left, driving past the badly lit gym that stood on the corner, its uninviting neon purple and red lights outside.

Abruptly, you pulled up. Grabbing your purse, getting out of your car and meekly pushed open the door to the place. The myriads of different noises startled you at first. The very loud speakers mounted on every corner, the clanking of the heavy weights hitting the floor, planks hitting each other, and the occasional loud grunting of men.

The person wearing the staff uniform greeted you. The young man, though seemingly your age, looked at you up and down with bright doe eyes.

“Hi,” he nodded politely, showing you a smile adorned by a couple of ring piercings. “Welcome! How can I help you?”

The question seemed to drive a dry joke in your mind, but you paid no attention to it. “I want to register.”

His expression broke in a downturned smile, almost as if this were a quick reflex of his. You realized then, you were being quite dry.

“Please,” you added two seconds later.

“Sure,” he smiled, recovering from the awkward exchange without issue. “Follow me.”

The gym was packed, it got hotter the more you entered the place. The guy wearing the staff uniform appeared to be quite the popular person around, waving at gym goers left and right with great attitude.

You thought of mentioning it but, you just kept walking behind him to an office room secluded in one of the corners. He turned on the light and went around the small desk, sitting down on the battered office chair with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, first things first,” he turned on the chair to one side, showing you with his hand to a table pushed to the corner of the office, an old coffee maker huffed as it finished brewing. “Coffee?”

You looked at the coffee machine, and then to him. An eyebrow lifted.

“It's Thursday,” he shrugged. “We serve coffee every Thursday.”

You huffed, a small smile appearing on your face. “And on Fridays?”

“Ah! Do not get ahead of yourself. Maybe we can find that out tomorrow, miss...?” he pushed his eyebrows up, pulled one pen from the pencil case, and clicked it on, ready to fill out a form.

You fought the urge to laugh in his face, the awkwardness from the whole situation making your tummy feel uneasy.

You sat down on the chair, robbing the pen from his tattooed fingers. His doe eyes snapped open in surprise when you pulled the form from under his hand and started filling it out.

“Tell me prices,” you muttered, eyes focused on filling out the form, so you did not get the chance to see him smile when he let out a small breath.

“Well, that didn't go to plan,” he whispered to himself, seemingly.

Cute.

“Has it ever?”

You darted a look at him through your lashes. The guy had his eyes slightly widened, probably not expecting you to strike up a conversation of this type.

“Uh, well, yeah, but,” he stammered, like a deer in the headlights. “Only when I don’t mean it to,” he smiled sheepishly, bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

“Well, then, I suppose that you can give me your name so I can give you mine,” you offered, though amicably. You finished writing on the form, putting the pen down.

“Jungkook,” he nodded his head politely. “Jeon Jungkook, miss.”

You smiled at him and told him your name, pushing the form to him on the desk.

Jungkook read the details you penned on the form intently, his lips softly mouthing each word, and then he turned to the old computer sitting on one side of the desk. But then, he shook his head swiftly. “Shit, yeah. Right,” he hissed. “Prices,” he turned to you.

“You know what,” you blurted, heartbeat racing when you pulled out your card from your purse. “Just sign me up.”

“Okay,” he nodded once again, his smile growing into a more content one, leaving the shyness behind. “Welcome to Casa Pump House,” he announced proudly.

His whole face had lit up, even his eyes seemed to glimmer under the pale overhead lights. The pause that followed told you that he was expecting you to match his energy, to smile, to say something.

A stiff smile stretched the features of your face, you nodded back at him. “Thank you,” you said. However, what he did not know was that the last thing you wanted to get out of your registration to the gym was working out.

You just needed another distraction.

The man stood up at the same time you did. “Let me show you around,” he said, demeanor completely changed. He seemed nervous now.

“Oh, is it okay if we leave that for tomorrow?” you asked, suddenly feeling out of place in your work clothes.

His mouth hung open for a brief moment. “Sure,” he replied. “Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, walking out of his office promptly. “Thank you, Jeon!”

You rushed through the rows of all types of machines. The noise from the heavyweights clashing together, the loud music coming from the overhead speakers, and the noises coming from men, exhaling, grunting, and such had you taking a deep breath when you came out of the place.

The night was cold, slightly damp from the mid-summer breeze. It was a stark difference from the humidity inside Casa Pump House.

You snorted. I should learn to ignore my impulsive thoughts.

You found your car, unlocking the doors. But a flashing thought overwhelmed you even more: having to sit through yet another thirty minutes of traffic, alone with your thoughts.

Turning your back from your car, you locked the doors once again, walking down the street. It could be a Thursday night when your usual would be heading home and sleeping. But the city was very much coming alive with nightlife activities.

People were walking close together, laughing, chatting, or looking at their phones. All of them had somewhere to go, somewhere they were being waited for.

Two girls holding hands walked past you, they were giggling, talking about some innocuous thing, but it caught your attention, they were pretty and looked happy.

They stopped in front of an establishment that was clearly a bar. Namely The Spot, in big neon red letters and pushed inside the place, which was booming with loud music, and the buzzing from the people crowding the place.

Once again, you sighed.

Impulsivities.

You were not exactly a drinker. But as soon as you crossed the door, you realized that the place was the answer to your every prayer. Well, no. Not quite. But close.

The place was dark, only lit by neon signs and low-hanging lamps. A cacophony of various things filled your ears: the sound of music, paired with the chattering of the crowd, the billiards in the distance clashing with everything too.

The good part was that no one paid attention to you. You quietly and inconspicuously slid on one of the high-top chairs at the lacquered bar, being approached by a girl a second later to take your order.

“Can I have a coke, please?” raising your voice over the loud speakers made your heartbeat race. You rarely ever did such a thing lately, it felt weird to do something like that again.

The girl nodded and in seconds, she slid the can of coke and a glass with ice in it in front of you.

You were glad that you were not met with concern when you ordered a coke at a bar. But then you realized that no one cared.

The place was packed with mostly women, you realized as you familiarized yourself with its adorned walls and black and white checkered floors. The bar top held a chalkboard that explained it in neat handwriting: ladies' night, buy one get one free.

“Does it apply for non-alcoholic drinks too?” you asked the girl tending the bar.

She shook her head no. “But this one is on me,” she winked at you in a friendly way, when you sent her a questioning look, she just shrugged: “You look like you need it.”

Then the girl turned and continued working, tending to other orders in the bar quite skillfully. You wondered if you announced your sadness just by walking into the place, and people noticed. Or was it that being alone in a ladies' night instantly meant that you were going through a rough time?

You need new friends.

When you broke up with your ex, you hid from the world that revolved around you as a couple. The friends you shared, the places you used to go with him, the activities you liked doing with him… It all got shoved into a drawer at the back of your mind.

So now, you felt like coming back to life. Essentially, you were finding yourself after the pain of a heartbreak. The reason behind all your most recent life's decisions.

You would never go to bars alone, for instance.

Not that you did not enjoy a drink. You did. Though during the time with your ex-partner, it was a true rarity for you to go out and drink.

So being in a bar, on a Thursday was something you had not done in years.

It was quite overwhelming. The buzzing noise, the loud music, the clanking of glass and billiards, the booming laughter and chattering...

The mood was low, dimly lit in red neon lights, the noise seemed to die down upon laying eyes on the tall man going behind the bar, passing in front of you and blocking the sight of the huge neon red sign that read, HEARTBREAKER. The contrasting light against his tall frame made him alluring, you could not help but stare.

However, your trance was cut short. He might have sensed your eyes glued to him because his zeroed on your face, unsuspecting at first. You realized instead, you know this man, the thought fell heavily in your mind, settling in the pit of your tummy.

The dark eyes glinted with recognition, the corner of his lips rising to uncover the predominant fangs as he smiled politely at you.

Kim Mingyu took one step towards the spot you were sitting in, the smile fading at once as you jumped from your stool, swiftly slipping through the door and out of the bar altogether.

Once out, you released a puffy breath. Did you just run away from Kim Mingyu?

“But did he recognize you?” your best friend from college, Mona, asked. She toyed with the tail of a cherry, dragging it on the foamy surface of her pina colada.

“I don’t know,” you squished your cheek on your palm as you propped your elbow on the table. “I didn’t stick around to find out. I don’t think he did, though.”

“Are you sure about that?” she mused.

“I’ve changed a lot, Mona,” you explained, though pointlessly since your best friend already knew what you meant. “I’m not the same kid I was when I was seventeen.”

“True. So why did you run?” she asked, blowing a puffy air up her fringe to keep it off her long eyelashes.

“It was some sort of impulse,” you tried to explain but the truth was, you did not even know the answer to that question. Hence why you resorted to call in for a meeting with the person that knew you the most.

Though it was not a meeting. You had already set a date for you to meet with your best friend long before you found out that Kim Mingyu worked at the bar around the corner of your apartment.

It had been long since you saw your best friend, partly because you kept coming up with excuses to not meet with her.

“I think,” he started, now popping the cherry in her mouth. “That you have been so buried in your own shit that you’ve started to forget how to socialize.”

You coughed up a chuckle. “Right,” you said dismissively. “And what is your recommendation, doc?”

“You should return to the bar,” she shrugged. “You have been hiding for too long. It’s time you go out more, meet new people.”

Her dark eyes bore into your face. You could feel your own pulse in your tummy. “I know,” you confessed with a strangled tone. “I’ve gotten better. I no longer think about him, you know?”

This was the reason why you had been dodging your best friend’s calls. Or cancelling plans at the last minute. This conversation was one you had been putting off for far to long but could no longer keep inside you.

“Good,” she sighed with relief, her heart-shaped face lit up with a kindness that warmed you up. “And how do you feel?”

“I feel… I used to feel angry. At him. For failing his promise to me,” you pursed your lips, swallowing hard as your voice dropped. “But now I just feel like I’m letting it go. I think that things had to happen like that for a reason.”

“He did you a kindness,” she nodded with a wise expression on her face.

You huffed. Kindness is not the word you would use. In fact, you could not come up with words to use to describe what he did to you.

“Seriously,” she insisted, straightening on her seat. “Imagine you got married! Then you would have been a loser’s wife!”

That elicited a genuine chuckle out of you. “True.”

“Not only that, but you would’ve also gotten divorced. Or who knows. But he spared you the pity of being married to him, divorcing him, or having children with his sorry ass.”

You pondered over her words for a second. Mona was there for you when you broke up with your ex. She was the first person to know the news, dropped everything to be at your doorstep within the hour of that happening.

You were grateful for Mona in more ways than one. She gave you space to grieve when you needed it. You did not even have to say it.

“So, are you going back to that bar some time soon?” she pried, leaving the tail of the cherry on her napkin, a knot neatly tied in the middle.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I chickened out. I think he did see me, and I don’t want to leave that impression.”

“Do you need back up?” she threw you a cheeky look.

Oh, she knows.

“No, I think I got it,” you reassured. “I’ll just pop in, say hi and that’s it.”

Sundays were the worst for you.

The bustling noise from the bar drowned out the heavy thumping of your heart. Keeping your head down, your eyes darted forth and then down to the glass you kept twirling with your fingers on top of the lacquered, pristine bar top.

Kim Mingyu was busy that night. Prancing side to side behind the bar, a white dishcloth resting on his shoulder. He went to pick up a new order, yanking it from the small printer and pretending to read it.

His chocolate brown eyes lifted, locking on you. With a nervous jolt in your chest, you looked at your hands again, grabbing your phone to hopefully distract yourself from the awkward but swift exchange.

“I know you.”

You drew in a breath, jolting so hard that somehow your hands pushed your drink, making some of it spill on the polished surface. “God,” you exhaled in both embarrassment and surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kim Mingyu blurted, grabbing the cloth from this shoulder and pressing it on the spilled drink. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you like that.”

“No, it’s okay,” you blurted, equally nervous as him. “You caught me off guard.”

“You know what they say,” he said, pressing his lips into a smile and discarding the cloth elsewhere, setting the palms of his hands on the edge of the bar top. “People with naughty thoughts in their heads get scared easily.”

“Nobody says that,” you raised your eyes from his hands to meet his face, his smile had grown, showing now the beautiful fangs that crowned it.

“I'm pretty sure I’ve heard it before somewhere,” he tilted his head to one side.

“Or maybe you just made it up,” you arched one eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he conceded, biting his lower lip to try and hide his shy smile.

A wave of warm embarrassment washed over your face, but you found yourself smiling at the man. “It’s been a long time.”

“So you do remember me.”

“Of course I do,” you replied with a meek smile burning your cheeks.

“Then why didn't you just say hi?” he replied with some faux indignation, pursing his lips into a pout. “I thought you hadn’t recognized me and that’s why you freaked out and left.”

“You didn't say hi either,” you shrugged, shaking your head lightly when you realized it was a bad excuse. “And it hasn’t been that many years, Mingyu,” you giggled. “Of course I remember you.”

The low chuckle that came from him ignited many memories from the past. “Really? Haven’t I changed? Not even a little?”

You rolled your eyes. The very last memories you had from Kim Mingyu were when you were still in high school. Even after many years, he kept the kind smile and bright eyes, the dark long hair. The only different thing about him was that he looked huge now.

He crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your answer. It was funny to you that even when his biceps bulged beneath his black t-shirt impressively, the starry eyes brought that boyish charm he has always had.

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “Still the same.”

“But you have changed,” he remarked, nodding his head once. You blinked at him dumbly, so he just added: “Your hair is longer. Braces are gone.”

You let out a chuckle, enjoying how the features of his face went lax at the sound of your laughter, much as if he were holding in a breath until the moment that he made you laugh.

“Spot on,” you mumbled awkwardly, grabbing your empty glass.

It was totally the opposite, though. You feel like you had lost half of your younger self when you entered your twenties. The baby fat from your face was long gone, your skin was leagues better after the brutal hormonal changes. And your body of course was not the same… there were some improvements.

“Sorry, let me refill that for you,” he quickly got to work, pulling out a new glass, filling it back up, and with one move, he slipped it into your hand. “One whisky sour.”

“Thanks,” you pressed your lips in a shy smile.

You watched as he parted his lips, pausing for a second before speaking out, until another voice, a powerful one, boomed from across the bar.

“Kim Mingyu! Get to work!”

He straightened up as if mentally being whipped by the firmness of the command. The man who called was leaning back against a pool table, arms crossed on his chest. But instead of wearing a frown on his face, there was a broad smile in it.

“Ah! Shit, I’m sorry,” he replied in a nervous stammer, wincing when the man handling the bar alongside him slapped him on one shoulder.

“Focus, Min,” the guy who slapped him playfully smiled in a mischievous way, directing a swift glance at you and pursed his lips to keep himself from smiling any wider.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he repeated, shooting an annoyed look at the guy and rolled his eyes at him. “I thought you had it for a minute.”

“Yeah, I did,” he shrugged. “But you don’t get paid to flirt. Plus, boss is watching,” the man pressed his lips into a sly smile.

“I’m not flirting–hyung,” Mingyu widened his eyes, gritting: “She is a friend.”

“Hi,” you raised one hand at the pair of bartenders, waving at them. “I’m a friend.”

“Oops, I’m sorry,” the tall man adjusted the watch sitting on his wrist before waving back at you. “Jeon Wonwoo. Also a friend.”

“Flatmate,” Mingyu gibed with faux dismissal.

 “So I’m not your friend anymore?” Wonwoo clicked his tongue, raising his eyebrows. “Good luck with flirting again on the clock without having boss complaining.”

“I wasn’t flirting!” Mingyu whined, grabbing the upcoming order expelled by the little printer behind him.

“Since I’ve been downgraded to just being a flatmate, I’m going to take a break,” he announced with an overly dramatic tone of indignation.

Mingyu’s jaw dropped in a sign of it being unjust. “Hyung!”

“I trust you can handle the bar on your own?” Wonwoo said, undoing the knot tying his waist apron that was previously wrapping him from the waist and left through the back door.

“Tsk,” Mingyu huffed, but then, despite his situation, he smiled widely. “I’m sorry about that,” he offered you a kind look. “He’s just teasing me. Please don’t mind him.”

“It seems like all of your co-workers like teasing you,” you pointed meekly, darting a look towards the other two people standing over the end of the bar.

Mingyu shot a look back, finding the girl that had welcomed you some nights ago, standing beside a tall man of pale blond hair. Both exchanged a smile, looking giddy.

“Tsk, aah,” Mingyu shook his head, and the couple laughed. “Don’t mind them,” he pleaded, resuming to focus back on his work, though part of you assumed that he was too embarrassed to face you.

So, you watched as he busied himself taking orders, handing them out to the pretty girl tending the tables. You continued sipping on your drink, distractedly looking at your phone and sending him glances, noticing that he too was looking at you. Every now and then, he would just shake his head at her in disapproval, which she ignored with a wide smile on her face.

Whenever he tried to stop in front of you to chat, he would be quickly swept away by a new order, or someone would call his name, and he would excuse himself with a quiet apology and a shy smile.

Later, the man that introduced himself to you as Jeon Wonwoo returned to the bar, slapping Mingyu on the shoulder to draw his attention. They exchanged some words, Mingyu looked aback for a second and the other pouted, mouthing: “I don’t know,” and shrugging with ease.

“Hey,” Mingyu came to you after thanking his friend. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Eh?” you tilted your head to one side, the question making your stomach drop.

“So we can catch up,” Mingyu let out a sweet giggle, realizing how his question sounded. “I’m getting kicked out for the night.”

Your eyes widened in bewilderment. “Oh, Mingyu, I’m sorry, that is not what–,”

“Relax,” he sighed. “My flatmate is covering me. He owed me one.”

“Oh,” you blurted. In that case…

“It’s been a while.”

Mingyu hummed thoughtfully, casting a look at the night sky. “Uh, eleven–ten, ten years?” he calculated.

You were exiting the bar, walking down the side of the street after you told him you were just gearing up to head home already, and he kindly offered to walk you home. “Yep. Ten years.”

“Wow,” he sighed. “We’re getting old.”

You braced yourself for one of those talks. As you entered the second half of your twenties, things got a little awkward for you. Once you would think they were stuff of fiction, something you would only see in romantic comedies or in tv shows: characters see the people surrounding their lives getting married, going on dates, honeymoons, having children while they remain a perpetual loner.

Now, you could not relate to that more.

But Mingyu was a person who did not care for those things. Even when you were both seventeen. He did not care for material things, or superficial things.

“Yeah. A little.”

You drew in a breath through your nose. The night was cold, and you could tell in the summer’s breeze that it would rain later. 

“I saw that you went in that fancy college,” he mentioned and then laughed. “And then you disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“Yeaaah,” you mumbled awkwardly. “I sort off eliminated all of my social media,” you frowned, remembering the reason why you had done that.

“I get it, it’s exhausting,” he shrugged.

“Did you go into that fancy college?” you returned, remembering Mingyu in those days in which he used to talk about the future, whenever you went out with your friend group. You remembered thinking that he had a bright future ahead of him whenever he would talk about studying mechanical engineering.

“Nah,” he clicked his tongue. “I quit those plans once I started working and making money. So, I’m not a mechanical engineer,” he let out a lazy giggle.

“Mmn,” you nodded. “Yeah, that happens. I’m not a graphic designer.”

“Why?” he frowned. “That’s all you talked about with your friends!”

You looked at him, perplexed to know that Kim Mingyu ever paid attention to you. Within your friend group, you were the least he had in common with. So even when you crossed paths, you never talked to each other aside from small friendly stuff.

“I started working as a translator… Started making money,” you sent him a knowing look.

“Yeah, I get it,” he chuckled. “But do you enjoy it at least?”

“Of course,” you smiled, though you could not ignore the way that your heartbeat faltered. “I work independently, though I do rent an office not far from here actually…” you said, pointing to the street where you were about to turn.

“Nice! I live in the area too, so maybe we’ll run into each other one day,” he mentioned.

“It’s nice to know I have a friendly neighbor,” you smiled. “I just moved here.”

“Oh, then let me show you around some day!” his eyes lit up. “There are a ton of places you probably don’t know of, like the bakery on the next alley, or the coffee shop right next to it, they serve really good breakfasts.”

“That would be nice,” you grinned.

Mingyu showed you a toothy grin, pausing in his step so you could catch up to him since he moved faster than you.

“Hey, about what happened back at the bar,” he motioned a finger to the bar. “I’m sorry about that. My friends can be a bit of dickheads.”

“No, it’s alright, I get it,” you shrugged. “A bit of in-work bantering can lighten up the shift sometimes,” you put simply.

“That and the fact that they have been teasing me for a while now. They try hard to distract me,” he rolled his eyes. But realizing how he came off, he added. “I had a nasty breakup not too long ago. It’s like they think I’m going to break soon. It’s annoying.”

“Can I ask how it happened?” you wondered, feeling your heartbeat falter when you finish uttering the words to a question that perhaps, might be too daring.

Kim Mingyu dug his hands in the pockets of his black denim jeans, sucking in a breath between his teeth. He pushed his shoulders up, that was when you noticed that the chill in the summer air was finally starting the get to him.

“She got into a new job,” he started, his eyes set far ahead on the way in front of you. “At the beginning, I thought that she was just happy from getting her big job. But then, she started saying things.”

As you walked beside him, you tried to keep your eyes trained on the tall man, but then he blinked rapidly, dropping his puppy eyes to his feet.

“She'd say things about my job,” he swallowed hard, and you could almost feel the pain he felt upon remembering. “I thought nothing of it at first, thought she was encouraging me to get a job with higher pay but...”

You nodded, and he sent you a glance in understanding. He did not need to say more about it, and he probably did not want to repeat the hurtful comments.

“And then,” he continued, and his tone dropped: “She started talking about her boss.”

He shook his head silently and exhaled through his nose, lifting his gaze up to the night sky.

“Time passed and the comments got meaner, she started ghosting me and I thought of breaking things off,” he swallowed hard once again, as if trying to mask his pain with it. “I got a call one day from a friend, telling me they saw her entering a restaurant with another man,” you saw him turn his hands into fists inside his pockets. “I guess she forgot that I had the day off that day, so she never thought I'd be waiting for her outside her apartment.”

“Did she...” you blurted out, your heart palpitating in your ears. You braced yourself to hear it, because you knew from before that his pain and yours were too alike.

“Yeah,” he croaked, blinking for a long second. “For weeks.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you covered your mouth with one hand. “I'm sorry, Mingyu.”

“I'm alright,” he shrugged once more, nodding as if to himself. “I think I'm grateful for her mean attitude towards me because in a way she softened the blow, but it still hurts.”

“I know,” you conceded. “It isn’t easy.”

However, you were raging inside. Some nights, the worst ones, you wonder what you did wrong to deserve everything that your ex did to you. The broken promises, the lies, the ghosting, your trust being brutally shattered.

“The worst thing is the shame,” he sent a glance at you, dragging his foot on the concrete to kick one rock that stood in the way of the park.

You nodded in silence.

“I never told my friends,” he confessed, his eyes were outlining the tree branches. “When it happened, I just told them that she was the one who broke up with me... I've never told them the truth.”

“You are not obligated to,” you muttered, a cold shudder added to your already chilled body making you pause.

“I just couldn't do it,” he muttered. “And the reason isn’t to protect her image, though at the beginning I thought it was… I just don’t want to the pity.”

You crossed your arms close to your chest. “And how are you now?”

“I’m okay,” he said with a reassuring tone. “I like to think that I’ve let it go already.”

Something made your tummy twist. You were familiar with the feeling, but decided not to mention it, since you felt that your past with your ex was no longer relevant.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu said.

You frowned at him. “What for?”

“For dumping all of this on you, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You realized that as you walked down the park, that you had remained quiet, and perhaps Mingyu mistook your silence for something other than you just pondering about how familiar his situation was to yours.

“Oh, please no, don’t worry, Mingyu,” you showed him a kind smile.

“I don’t want to bother you with that. I just…” he scratched his neck absentmindedly. “I had never talked about this with anyone, and the words just flew out of my mind, you know?”

You nodded; you knew that all too well. “It’s okay, Gyu,” you insisted. “I’m not bothered. I don’t think it’s wrong to talk about that. After all, it is part of you, and I asked because I was curious.”

Mingyu looked at you for a long second. “I appreciate that,” he kissed his own lower lip, nodding in gratitude. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Hey, it’s nothing. You’re walking me home, so consider us even,” you pointed.

“You owe me nothing for that,” he pouted slightly, pausing his step in the middle of the basketball court you both were crossing to get to the other side of the neighborhood.

“I’m just saying,” you shrugged. “Since you were kind to me, I guess what I can do is listen to your woes,” you added playfully.

“My woes,” he grinned, clicking his tongue. “Really? You’re a tease,” he insisted, his eyes spotting something on the far corner of the court.

He sprinted towards the forgotten ball, grabbing it with one hand and started to bounce it as he walked back to you.

“Remember when we used to do this?” he asked, standing outside the box and turned to look at you, raising his arms with the ball ready on one hand.

Your tummy fluttered at his words. “Course I do, Gyu. It wasn’t that long ago,” you pointed.

He referred to the times when you used to go out in your friend group, you would go to stroll and have picnic nights with booze right next to the river, and then you would go to the park to watch the boys play basketball.

“I feel like seventeen happened forever ago,” he sighed, confidently throwing the ball which dodged the hoop quite miserably.

You snorted.

Mingyu shot a sullen look at you. “D’you think you can do better than me?” he challenged, but a shy smile drew on his face.

“Oh, most definitely,” you chuckled, but caught the ball with your hands when he passed it to you.

“Right, show me,” he nodded to the hoop.

You grinned, getting ready to shoot your shot. “What do I get if it goes in?”

Mingyu blinked. “You get,” he paused to think. “A round of applause.”

“What?” you gasped.

“A chocolate bar,” he giggled but when you did not reply, he said: “And if you don’t, you’ll get a forehead flick.”

“What, why?” you asked with a faux scandalized tone. “You didn’t get a forehead flick, why should I?”

The giggled that bubbled in his mouth was high and cute at the same time. “Those are the rules.”

“Your rules suck,” you huffed, and finally threw the ball.

It of course, did not go even near the hoop. Mingyu laughed the second that the trajectory of the ball dived before it even went close to the hoop, the sound was so contagious you found yourself resisting to laugh.

“Rules are rules,” he said, locking his middle finger with the pad of his thumb, forming a circle with his joined fingers.

“No, wait—Mingyu!” you squealed then the tip of his middle finger clashed with your forehead, flicking you swiftly. Pain flashed across your skin, but it quickly dissipated, leaving a tingle behind.

“Those were the rules, you agreed!” he giggled again, dodging your hand as you tried to push his shoulders.

“Then you should get one too,” you struggled to keep up with him, every single one of the fists you threw at him dodged quite effortlessly.

“The rules were settled after I threw,” he let out a small squeal when one of your fists nearly collided with his shoulder, but he was still quicker than you.

“Come here you-,” you gasped, your body was neatly trapped in his arms.

Your gaze shot up to find his, overwhelmed by the very pressure of his skin against yours.

“Stay put,” he panted. The tips of his ears were painted red, his eyes had lit up. The smile he wore on his face was just as overwhelming as feeling his big arms surrounding you.

But you sneaked a hand between your bodies, flicking off his forehead with a triumphant smile. “Dummy,” you whispered, a giggle bubbling in your chest. Joy bloomed inside you, warming up your face.

He lifted a hand to rub his forehead, letting you go. “Ack, but you played dirty!” he complained, holding the pads of his fingers to his forehead.

“No, I didn’t, you did,” you remarked, looking at him as he gave you a lazy smile.

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” he kissed his teeth. “I’ll get my revenge on you.”

“Oooh, I’m so scared,” you lifted your hands, flickering them in a scared motion. 

The sky rumbled above you. Mingyu looked up and you followed. “We should get going,” he said.

As you left the park, you made your way along the sidewalk where your building was located. Then a hand came to your waist, gently prompting you to walk along the side of the buildings instead of along the edge of the sidewalk.

The touch was minimal, fleeting. But your mouth went dry, searching his face for any sign that he knew what he had done to you with such an insignificant gesture.

Your heart stammered against your chest, quite uncontrollably, it made it hard for you to breathe properly. You raised your head when you got to your building. “We’re here,” you stepped in the first step of the stairs that led to the door of the building, pausing to look back at his face. “Thank you, Min.”

The smile that drew on his face knocked the air out of your lungs. “You are welcomed,” he said, emphasizing each word adorably.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you,” you muttered awkwardly, hating that he had flustered you with so little and had no idea about it.

“Oh, yes,” he swiftly fished his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “We should exchange numbers, in case there is anything you need.”

You sighed shortly through your nose, a thing he did not notice. “Sure,” you said, pulling out your phone and gave him your number.

“I’m mostly busy at the bar but, maybe we could go out for coffee, so we can catch up properly?” he asked.

That gave you a reason to pause. You were certain that he was not asking you for a date, but why had you become so nervous at the thought of going out with Kim Mingyu?

“Of course, I’d love that,” you grinned. “Goodnight.”

And then you ran into your building. Running away from Mingyu for a second time.

You struggled to get sleep that night.

Staring at the ceiling, you grew more and more restless, and even more aware of the thing that lied beneath your bed, inside one of the drawers of the bed frame.

A long, whiny sigh of resignation spilled from you before you could get a hold of your actions. You rolled to the edge of the bed, flinging an arm over the mattress, and yanking the drawer open. Another sigh as your fingers reached for the pink satin bag and bottle of lube.

Tossing the covers off your already hot and pulsating body, fingers trembling slightly as you pulled the vibrator out of the satin pink bag you kept it in since you bought it. There had been only a couple of times that you had actually touched the pretty toy with your hands. The toy was pink, the material was soft, thick, and just about enough inches long to satisfy you. Or so you hoped.

Unsure as to how to go about this, you thought of removing just the lower part of your sleeping clothes, including your panties. Breathing hard, and feeling hot in the face and neck, you lied on your pillows, staring at the ceiling.

Your heart was banging fast against your ribcage, as if it wanted to get out. You liked your lips, before grabbing the bottle of lube you had tossed beside you and pumped the cold, thick lube on your fingers, gently applying it between your pussy lips.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth upon the chilly contact against your warmth. But wasted no time, grabbing the pink rabbit dildo from your sheets and holding the button with your thumb.

It came to life with rapid vibrations, the buzzing sound made you jolt in your bed again. But mustering some courage, you brought the tip in, pushing it inside your entrance gently at first. The fast mechanic motions of the vibrator made it hard to concentrate, or to even get pleasure out of it.

Your eyes outlined the edges of the ceiling, anxiously pushing a few more inches inside your needy walls. The thickness of the dildo made your mouth part, releasing a tiny moan of both pain and from feeling your pussy stretching and pulsating around it.

Slowly, you familiarized yourself with the feeling of it, and you grew to like it as the seconds went by and you found a mode that felt good. Your body responded naturally, coming alight with the mechanic patterns of the vibrator massaging your walls. You pushed it all the way inside you, to the part that met your clit.

A strangled moan came out of you, letting your body be submerged in a puddle of pleasure. You sank your head back onto your pillows and spread your legs more so that the dildo reached deeper inside your walls.

It was electrifying. You felt your muscles tighten, your legs burn and begin to tremble, you turned your head to muffle a moan in your pillow and closed your eyes.

Behind your eyelids, you saw him. You saw his tall frame, the beautiful way that he moved. You saw the outline of his lean torso, the t-shirt clinging onto his abdomen. The way he smiled when he noticed your eyes on him, winking at you knowingly.

The way that every nerve in your body sizzled when he laid his hand on your waist. The memory only contributed to the pleasure blooming inside your body, pushing you closer to the edge.

You slowly succumbed to waves of pleasure washing over you, you moaned and thrashed but made no attempt to pull out the vibrator continuing to pleasure you, taking you to the edge. Your orgasm became brutal, fast fiery waves consuming you, tearing through you.

It was hard to ignore the urge to remember his large hand on you, the way he lowered his gaze to meet yours, his seductive smile. You wanted his hands on you, all over you.

A series of airy moans resounded across the walls, you arched your back from the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably, the burning feeling spreading from your throbbing walls to every corner of your aching body.

You held in a breath, putting an end to your implacable moans. The intense feeling coursing through your body making it harder to stop, so when a warm and wet gush came out of you, your thumb pressed the off button, realizing that you had just wet the bed.

Breathless, and shaking, you sat up on the bed, looking at the wet spot in your bed sheets. It was the first time you squirted, the first time you even felt pleasure so abundantly like this. You pondered over how you had to resort to thinking about Mingyu to achieve your climax.

With a sigh, you gathered yourself, cleaning your bed, yourself, and your toys before throwing your ruined bed sheets in the washing machine. You placed new ones and tucked yourself back in and stared at the ceiling.

Though you were completely languid at the time, your vision faded to black, falling into a deep slumber but one thought remained.

I think I’ll accept that coffee.

Easier said than done.

As the following Monday rolled around, you fidgeted with the sleeves of your large hoodie as you approached the door of Casa Pump House. Nerves wrecked up in your system when you pushed the door open using your electronic key.

It had been some days since you saw Mingyu. Some nights since you dared to touch yourself thinking of him. And you were trying your best to keep him out of your mind. Utterly ashamed, you did not even want to think of what you had done.

Because you had enjoyed it.

In the back of your mind, a tiny voice begged for you to visit The Spot again. Whenever you went to the convenience store, a flashing thought warned you that you might run into him there. Or at the gym, even.

“Heyyyy,” Jungkook rasped, elongating the word. “You have been MIA.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled awkwardly. “Stomach flu.”

He made a face. “Ew. You’re good now?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t ew me,” you gibed. “Yeah, I’m good.”

But Jungkook did not know the stomach flu had a name, and you have been doing everything to not cross paths with him. So why were you at the gym, knowing full well that you could potentially run into him around that time?

“You’re here early,” he pointed, leaning his head to one side.

“It’s noon already!” you quipped.

“That’s early for you,” he remarked. “You always come here when I’m leaving.”

“Well, I missed you so I thought I could come here earlier to see your face,” you returned.

“You know what, I’ll take that. I missed your silly face too,” he said, smirking triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well,” he clasped his hands together, comically drawing in his eyebrows in a deep-set frown. “Let’s get to work, twinkie.”

“What did you just call me?” you demanded at him.

“Twinkie,” he shrugged, motioning a finger at your body. “You look squishy, like a cute twinkie.”

“Hey!” you frowned, pointing a finger at him impishly. “And you look like you were left alone with a sharpie started doodling on your skin.”

His mouth parted in a tiny o. “Touché.”

You giggled. “Okay, let’s get to work,” you rolled your eyes in resignation.

“Let’s start with some warmup,” he nodded to the elliptical machines behind you. “Ten minutes. And then you are going to do RDLs, okay?”

“Okaaaaay,” you mumbled, reluctantly taking your body to the elliptical machine.

You climbed the steps, pressing buttons to see what made the machine start. Once you found the button that made it work, you started moving. You dove into the pocket of your hoodie, looking for your earbuds and your phone to distract yourself from the monotony of the gym.

“Hands out of your pockets!” Jungkook yelped, a second later you saw the man rushing to your side. “You’re gonna get squished, twinkie.”

“Stop calling me that,” you giggled with embarrassment.

“I will when you get a nickname for me that suits me,” he negotiated.

“God, you’re terrible at flirting,” you pointed with a laugh.  

“I’m not flirting,” he chuckled, awkwardly moving away from you.

You let out a puffy breath, drawing out your earbuds out of your pocket.

“Mingyuuuu, it has been ages!” Jungkook chanted, his voice resounding across the lonely gym.

Your stomach twisted, an anxious rush of blood barrelling throughout your body. Your gaze snapped around the place, finding Jungkook pressing his phone to his ear. “This Friday? Uh, yeah, maybe I could. Let me check and I’ll let you know, okay? Okaaay.”

It could be anyone else, you reasoned, placing the earbuds inside your earholes with embarrassment controlling your body. However, it seemed all too likely that it was the same Kim Mingyu on the phone. After all, Jungkook and Mingyu seemed like the kind of goofballs that would get along.

 A probability that you did not want to find out yet.

As you continued your best to follow your routine, something had damaged it. And it was not that you were still ashamed of yourself. Or that you were still flustered about your last encounter with Mingyu.

The realization that you could feel something other than monotony. From the moment you broke things off with your ex, everything felt the same, tasteless, colorless. And you knew that you had put in the work to break out of that dullness in your life, you went out more, you were meeting new people.

But nothing compared to that night. And you found out that you wanted more.

However, it was not easy. You had drowned yourself in work in order to keep avoiding it. So there you were, trapped in your little office you rented for yourself, working yourself to exhaustion so that you could just get back home and sleep immediately.

You turned off the computer after reading the clock that it was three in the morning already. So you grabbed your phone, and your apartment keys and went out of the building.

Damn you, summer rains.

They always came when you least expect it, in the blink of an eye. The air felt so hot as you went out of your office that you could barely walk outside, but then the rain was pouring over you with no notice.

Walking down the sidewalk in working shoes was not the best idea. In fact, you were heavily contemplating removing them and just going back home barefoot.

You came to a reluctant halt in the middle of the deserted sidewalk, as heavy droplets of water fell on your face, on the back of your head as you stared at your shoes, getting wetter and wetter as you pondered over your dilemma.

“Lost something?”

Taking one big gulp of air, you shot a look across the sidewalk, only to find Kim Mingyu standing, wearing his usual attire for work. The features of his face looked relaxed despite the heaviness with which he approached you, carrying his fatigue in his limbs with each step.

His white T-shirt began to accumulate wet spots on his shoulders and chest. His cheeks were wet, as was his long messy hair.

You gaped at him in question. The dilemma occupying your brain dissipated into the void, quickly replaced by the shock of seeing him after days of keeping him at arm’s length without failure.

“Hi there,” he muttered once he stood one step before you.

“Hi,” you smiled, having to tilt your head to find his face.

“You’ve been gone,” he said with some air of urgency, much as if he did not want to lose you at some lazy excuse on your part. “I was starting to wonder that you didn’t want to hang out anymore.”

You hated his straightforwardness sometimes. “Sorry,” you scrunched up your nose in discomfort, receiving more fat droplets of water on your face. “I needed some me time.”

“Then you should’ve just said so, dummy,” he pointed, rolling his eyes at you as if his point were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I struggle to say things sometimes,” you retorted in a whiny tone. “Look, I’d love to continue this conversation but we’re literally just soaking in the middle of the street.”

Mingyu raised his eyebrows, as though he had not noticed the rain pouring down on both of you. “I’ll walk you home,” he motioned in the opposite direction from which he was previously coming.

And with that, he turned around and started to walk down the street.

You fell into step at his side, struggling to keep his steady pace. “Slow down,” you exhaled.

“Right,” he giggled sweetly. “Short legs.”

“Shut up,” you readjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “You just walk really fast.”

“Because I’m taller than you, my legs are longer,” he motioned to his legs, taking one big step that amounted to three of yours.

“Well, then walk slower, please,” you huffed with exhaustion already building up in your feet.

Mingyu noticed, still looking at your face as he walked. “Fine, sorry,” he conceded. “Are you just clocking off work?”

You nodded, noticing your ponytail heavier now that your hair was soaking. “I wanted to finish everything before the weekend.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he gasped in dramatic reprimand.

“Don’t give me that look,” you frowned, pointing a finger at him. “I could say the same to you! You also just clocked off.”

“But that is normal for my job! What you do is not something specifically for night hours,” he argued, matching your tone.

“What do you know about what I do?” you tried to argue but a smile fought to curve your lips. “I could hold office hours specifically from 11 pm to 3 am,” you giggled impishly.

“Ah, really you are…” he rolled his eyes but shook the thought from his head. “Could you finish?”

Droplets of water slid down the bridge of his nose, dropping from the tip and onto his cupid’s bow. You remembered the cute little beauty mark sitting on the tip of his nose. You wanted to kiss it.

It took you one second to understand what he was implying. “Oh, yes, I did,” you stammered, crossing your arms over your chest.

But Mingyu did not notice the meaning behind your gaze. “That’s good,” he nodded, pressing his lips together.

The short spasm returned in your chest, making you tear your eyes from his face and keep walking beside him, staring at the sidewalk.

“How was work tonight?” you returned the question, trying to get as much light conversation as you could without falling into the deep craving tugging in your insides.

“It was alright,” he shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What would that look like?” you ventured.

“Ah, well, drunk people tend to be funny,” he showed you a toothy grin. “One guy celebrated his birthday at the bar one night, and after a few drinks he lost control, went insane,” he laughed in the memory of it. “He started thinking he was an idol, he requested a song and got on a top of the bar and started dancing.”

His laugh was contagious, you could not help but respond with a giggle of your own. “Oh, no, that sounds embarrassing. What did you do?”

“He lost his balance and fell to the floor,” his smile vanished, shuddering slightly. “He broke his nose, I had to call an ambulance,” he finished the story, scratching his nape absentmindedly.

“That’s not how I thought the story would end. Talk about a night to remember,” you huffed awkwardly.

“Well that is one story of many,” his eyes widened slightly.

“But you like it?” you raised your eyebrows. “D-do you like your job?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed with a nod.

The rain had completely succeeded at soaking your clothes, your button shirt felt cold against your skin, and your jeans were tight and damp, it was starting to get hard to move.

Whereas you felt like a wet ragged doll, Mingyu looked like a supermodel. His long dark hair was dripping wet onto his beautiful face. His white T-shirt was clinging to the muscles of his body, letting you view the well-defined lines of his abdomen.

“Were here already?” Mingyu asked when you came to a halt in front of your building.

“Yeah,” you said distractedly, sending him a look as you opened the door to the inside of the building, welcomed by the smell of humidity and dust. “Don’t just stand there.”

The man followed you inside without much insistence. You started machining in your brain your next movements while climbing the first flight of stairs to the door of your apartment, which you opened with a shaky hand.

You staggered awkwardly against the door frame, trying to keep your chin up to hold his gaze. One hand brushed the worn edges of the frame, resting on it as you caught your breath. Mingyu noticed your eyes this time around. And you almost did not want to realize that his eyes were on your body as well.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked meekly, darting a look at the dark interior of your apartment, aside from the little lamp you always left on when you went out. “I can make something to eat. And lend you a towel, fresh clothes, maybe.”

Much to your fortune, the man nodded with his head. “If you want,” he mumbled, so you slid back inside your apartment for him to follow inside. “Though I’d have to reject the clothes,” reluctantly, he strolled inside your haven, looking at the abandoned big frame and leaning against the hallway wall.

“Why?” you asked, still walking backward as he paced before you.

“Because they might not fit me,” he chuckled, his smile knocking the air out of your lungs.

“What do you know, I could have something that might,” you smirked, getting him a towel you had discarded earlier in the morning.

He gave you a light gesture of gratitude with his head, thanks, he mouthed before pressing the towel to his face.

“Do you…” you hesitated. “Can I offer you something?”

He sneaked a look at you with the towel pressed to the lower half of his face.

“Like water?” you suggested with a sheepish smile. “I have ramen–and rice in the fridge.”

He contemplated you as you swayed your body on the balls of your feet ever so gently. “You don’t need to do that,” he finally replied.

“It’s just food, Mingyu. You walked home with me,” you shrugged, motioning to the kitchen, your fingers grazing the rim of the dining table.

The man took one step towards you, making your step stutter. “I mean that,” he smiled. “You don’t have to repay nothing, shorty. That’s what friends are for.”

You stumbled against the edge of your dining table, a gasp leaving your lips that you quickly tried to replace with a muffled chuckle. “You know, I could say the same thing.” 

“How long are you going to keep this up?”

“What?” you breathed, completely perplexed by both the proximity and the question. “Ke-keep what up?”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” he muttered gruffly, pushing you to lean back against the dining table without laying one finger on you. He was just so close to you that you had no room to breathe.

“Noticed what? Mingyu–,” you giggled in utter shyness when he knowingly smiled at you. The blood rushing to your face made your skin tingle, you bit your lower lip.

“Am I making you nervous?” his voice dropped, his dark eyes reading the features of your face with avid curiosity.

“Yes,” you admitted, leaning back with your hands gripping the wooden rim of the table as he towered over you. “I like you, Kim Mingyu.”

His triumphant smile crushed your heart with its beauty. Damn you, Kim Mingyu.

“I like you too,” he whispered, leaning closer, the smile fading softly as you stopped moving back.

“Mingyu,” you whispered, hating how much you were flustered at his confession, your voice waning.

Mingyu paused, but it was not out of hesitance, his gaze swimming on your features quickly softened once you dared to reach out to him. Using the proximity of your bodies, you found his face with your hands, realizing how warm his skin was.

“Yeah?” he whispered back, nodding slightly with his head. Mingyu wanted this too.

You are not sure what happened, if you moved first or he did. You closed your eyes, breath hitching as his lips touched yours, your skin coming to life with a fiery rush of blood. From pressing his lips against your own, he quickly moved to kiss you deeper, using one hand on your chin to tilt your face to him.

Your heart stammered in your chest, his hand returning to park in your waist. Friends don’t kiss, you wanted to tell him.

Who were you kidding, you had never wanted someone like you wanted Mingyu.

But this is wrong, you thought over and over again.

“Mingyu,” you breathed when his fingers on your chin tilted your head for him to kiss the underside of your jaw, slowly pressing his lips twice.

“Mn?” he hummed really close to your skin, so you felt his short sigh, his breath brushing your skin.

“We should stop,” you brought a hand to the middle of his chest, feeling his hard pecs beneath your palm.

“Why? Am I doing something wrong?” he asked, backing away from you so he could take a look at your face.

“No, not at all,” you said, short of breath, rigid in your muscles in a weak attempt to resist what you wanted to do.

“Okay, if you want to stop, then we stop,” he offered with a kind tone, slowly following your gaze as you palmed his chest over his t-shirt.

“I- I mean if we do this…” you stammered, feeling stupid. “I don’t want us to change.”

A toothy grin spread on his lips. “How would this change us?” he shot a look to your eyes then your lips.

“I don’t want to cross a line we can’t come back from,” you explained, still not letting go of him.

He stilled completely; you saw it in his eyes when he started to craft a plan. “You draw the line.”

“Mingyu…” you whispered, your lips pouting around the last sound of his name.

This was not the same as playing basketball in the middle of the night with him. This could potentially tilt your world upside down. He did not know yet the way he made you feel just by being around you.

“You can draw it here if you want,” he offered, his tone was nothing but kind.

A smile stretched your lips slowly. He made things harder for you like this. Letting you be the one to choose was dangerous, if not stupid. But he did not know.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently,” you quivered. It was still hard to breathe since he was still within arm’s reach. Your hand lingered still right on top of his heart.

“I won’t,” he whispered back, gesturing a no with his head slightly. “I promise.”

Mingyu did not know that you were all too familiar with the pain that he carried. Even if he were not hurting at that moment, you knew what he was going through.

Mingyu looked at you as if he had just dipped into the stream of your thoughts but were left unbeknownst to your actual insecurities. “You’re safe with me,” he mumbled, offering you the ghost of a smile.

You thought of all the nights you wished for something like this to happen. The moments you wished to get a touch, to feel what you felt the first time he placed his hands on you.

Mingyu grabbed you by the waist, easily lifting you off your feet and placing you on the small dining table. He did this carefully, but you could sense that he wanted you in a position where he could kiss your face freely. His hands held your face lightly, while he continued pressing kisses on your lips, your cheeks.

This time, as he dives back in your lips, his tongue brushes against yours, lightly at first but enough to elicit a throaty moan from you. The frenzy pulsing in your throat turns into a warmth, blooming from your neck to your face.

He realized you liked that, and tried it one more time, his tongue lingering on the tip of yours before he pulled back. “I should go now,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb caressing your chin gently. “Or I won’t be able to stop.”

You grabbed his wrist. “Wait,” you breathed. “Please don’t. Don’t go. I don’t want you to leave.”

Did you want him? Or did you just not want to spend the night alone, wondering about him?

Mingyu seemed to desist, much as if the rigidness that he used to command himself away from your body had dissolved once he heard your plea. You caught sight of his throat bobbing when he gulped hard, searching your features as if he would find what to say in them.

“Stay the night with me,” you blurted uncontrollably.

“Sure,” he replied, grabbing the edges of the dining table as though he were withholding the urge to touch you again.

“Do you want to, Mingyu?” you asked, reluctant about his general lack of resistance to your offer.

He smiled as he tilted his head to one side. “I would’ve said no if I didn’t want to,” he raised his eyebrows in question. “If I stay, I do want to know one thing. Are you sure about this?”

Before you uttered the same quippy response he gave you, the flashing thought of sabotaging yourself crossed your mind. He knew this. Mingyu knew that you had a tendency to be a people pleaser, of trying to make everyone happy.

“I am,” you reassured, and it was the final blow to what little self-control you had left. “I want you, Mingyu.”

The words caused an impact on him. He breathed in slowly, but his eyes widened ever so slightly, shooting up a glance to your features. His eyes lit up, his beautiful lips curving in a small, but shy smile.

Finally admitting that aloud, and to him also caused something within you. Your pulse quickened, followed by a heat rushing inside you, stretching so far that it reached the tips of your fingers, commanding them to his face.

The pads of your fingers touched the line of his jaw in a gentle caress, urging him back to your lips before you could say something even more damming to your soul. The stammering of your heart was distracting, telling you to let go of this man before he could hurt himself in the tumultuous and dark path that led to your heart.

But you could not. Take the risk, the words echoed in the back of your mind.

“Mingyu,” you blurted, parting from his lips. “Couch, sit.”

You heard an airy chuckle left him as he broke away from the kiss, walking back and blindly falling on the couch, not bothering to look around to make sure where he was heading. You jumped from the dining table, crossing the space to follow him.

His hands pulled you in, his grip on your waist coming back to command you to sit on top of him, which you did willingly, pressing one knee on the couch, then the other, framing Mingyu’s thighs.

Now that you were straddling, a tiny voice in the back of your mind wanted to pull the breaks, but your hands found his face again, your palms caressing his cheeks as you slid your fingers in his long dark hair, brushing it back before sinking your lips in his.

His hands roved your back, starting from your waist up, his fingers getting caught in your hair when he reached your shoulder blades, pressing on your skin over your dress shirt. Your hands went around the back of his head, sliding down to find his thick neck.

Your tongue rolled inside his mouth, swiping a line on his lower lip in the process. Your body came alight with a shudder when a raspy moan coiled around his throat, you felt it beneath your fingertips.

A soft wet sound bubbled between your lips and his when you stopped kissing him, pausing for air. You thought of what to say, resting your forehead on his.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked.

Every inch of your skin tickled when you heard how gruff his voice had turned. You nodded with your head.

“Yes,” you replied. “You? What do you want, Mingyu?”

The inner corners of his eyebrows twitched ever so slightly, but you noticed it. The question caught him off guard as if that had not been a consideration before. It broke you.

“I don’t want to stop,” he said with a sigh. But realizing that he only half answered your question, he added: “I want you. I’ll go as far as you let me.”

The tiny voice grew more alarmed, but you ignored it besottedly running the pads of your fingers to brush back a rebellious strand of hair back from his face. Mingyu was beautiful, the most beautiful man you have ever seen. But the pull you felt for him went beyond the physical. You needed him.

“Take control, baby,” he whispered.

And you obliged. The strangled sound that bubbled inside you was almost foreign to you. You were on his lips again, kissing him hungrily like you had never kissed someone else before. His hands grabbed your hips, bringing you impossibly closer to his body, pushing your chest flush against his.

You palmed his chest, appreciating the warmth radiating from him with a low hum, which he reciprocated, his hands daring to move farther down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you down on him, pushing your crotch against his.

“Mingyu,” you whimpered in his mouth. You grounded your hips on him, replicating the motion by swaying your hips back and forth on him once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he blurted, then shut his eyes tightly. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, continuing to ground your hips on him, rubbing yourself on the hard bulge beneath his blue jeans. “Do you like this?”

“Yeah, yes, baby,” he rasped. “But I want you to feel good, shorty. C-can I move you to the bed?” he shuddered.

You stopped grinding on him. “Sure-,” you gasped. Before you could finish your sentence, Mingyu was rising to his feet, scooping you up with him.

He giggled softly when you squealed in surprise. “I got you,” he wrapped your body effortlessly, his arms carrying you safely.

Your arms went around his neck by instinct, but he crossed your tiny studio apartment faster than your brain could even process. As he laid you on the mattress, you noticed that he had made sure that only your legs were hanging on the edge of the bed.

Mingyu placed a hand on the mattress, right next to your shoulder, then the other. “Stop me if you don’t like anything at all,” he muttered, climbing on top of you, and lowering his hips to meet yours.

He was heavy—heavier than you had expected or imagined in your most delusional nights. And he was not even lowering his full weight on you.

You swallowed thickly. But recovered when your hands found the hem of his t-shirt. “I want to see you without this,” you toyed with the damp cotton fabric, sending him a look.

Mingyu smiled and pulled back on the mattress, standing on his knees before you. He crossed his arms, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt to pull it up his torso, and off his head, showing his skin unabashedly.

A shudder flashed down your spine. You wondered before what was beneath that t-shirt, but what little you dared to imagine did not compare to the actual beauty he was. Before you could even take the image before you, Mingyu was already leaning over your body, propping a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Fair is fair?” he asked meekly, a thumb brushing over one button of your dress shirt.

“Yeah,” you showed him a smile, realizing you were jittery.

You watched his hand trail down as he undid each button, your shirt parting and slowly revealing the white bra you wore. It was nothing too daring, but it fit you well, accentuating your breasts nicely.

You darted a look at his face. Mingyu finished undoing the buttons of your shirt, his gaze lost in you as he palmed your tummy with a gentle caress to uncover more of your skin to him.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he gasped, leaning to press a hard kiss on your lips, his hand cupping your cheek.

Too astounded to even bring yourself to reply, you whimpered into the kiss, his tongue outlining your lower lip, his hand on your waist inched to your chest, setting your skin on fire. He cupped one of your breasts, groaning in desperation before hiking up the cup of your bra, to touch you freely.

Your hands flew to undo his belt, hastily undoing the button and zipper of his jeans too. “Get up,” you gasped, his thumb swirling your nipple, getting it to pebble, a tingle spreading on your skin beneath his touch.

Mingyu obliged, knowing where you were going before you even made a move. His gaze followed you as you pushed his jeans down, getting rid of them. In two full motions, your dress shirt was discarded on the floor along with your bra before you returned your back to the mattress.

He looked at you like no one else had before. There you were, splayed on your bed beneath him, and he was just taking you in with his gaze, making your heart flutter wildly.

His fingers grazed the skin of your thigh, inching closer to the band of your panties. You trapped his index and middle finger in your hand, his gaze snapping to yours.

“Fair is fair,” you reminded him with a grin.

He stood before your bed wearing a pair of grey boxers only. Pushing the inside of his cheek with his tongue, he sighed shortly. “You played dirty,” he pointed, but he removed his hand from your grasp.

You sat up, stopping him when you shot him a look, wordlessly telling him you wanted to finish undressing him yourself. You enjoyed the look on his face, his features going soft when you ran a finger from his belly button to the band of his boxers.

You palmed the outline of his cock, darting a quick look at his face when you felt the wet patch of precum on the last piece of clothing he wore. When your fingers finally curled around the waistband of his boxers, you could not help but conceal your smile by biting your lower lip.

Mingyu was fully hard, and he was big. A shudder tore through you. He stepped out of his boxers, looking at the bewildered expression on your face as he stood wholly naked, and proudly so.

Before you could even utter a word, he motioned you to lie back once more. You smiled, helping him get rid of your wet and ruined panties, which he yanked down your legs, tossing them to the floor, littered with your and his clothes.

“Gyu,” you whimpered, his lips pressing a sweet kiss on your lower, moving to capture it in a deeper kiss.

“Need you,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and quivering slightly as his hands palmed your breasts, his thumbs brushing your perked nipples. “I need you, baby.”

Your hands roamed on his back, feeling the outlines of his hard muscles. “Take me,” you blurted. “I’m right here.”

He placed a kiss on the underside of your jaw, and you tilted your head back for him to kiss your throat. “I want to eat you out,” he husked against the plain of your chest, kissing the swell of your breasts, taking his time with each as you raked your fingers on his scalp. “Can I?”

“God, yes, Mingyu, please,” you gasped, his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, making you stir your back on your mattress.

Mingyu hummed as he licked your tits, his tongue swirling around your areolas, kissing your nipples and suckling at them. His hands caressed the inner side of your thighs, spreading them open as his mouth trailed down your tummy, kissing your skin, making it prickle.

A moan coiled in your throat. You needed him now. “Hurry,” you blurted with a whine.

Mingyu obeyed wordlessly, getting down on his knees. Kissing your mound, his hands cupping your inner thighs focusing solely on your pussy before diving in, his tongue swiping a broad stroke on your pussy lips, licking you fully. The feeling overwhelmed you at once, and you knew you would not last long.

“God,” you gasped, as he licked your folds sending you a look from between your thighs. The view was so lewd, beating any experience you had ever had in the past in a matter of seconds.

Silence flooded the room, aside from the wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy, licking your folds, and your increased breathing. Your mouth had fallen open, and you forgot to breathe.

His hair tickled your skin, his warm hands holding you down as he licked, suckled, and nipped at your pussy, as though he were getting familiar with it, as though he just wanted to taste if first before moving his tongue to your clit.

And when he did, you knew there was no going back.

A breathy moan escaped, and you drew in a breath again. “Mingyu…” you called after his tongue swirled around your swollen clit. “Do that again,” you asked, your tone whiny and pathetic.

He did not skip a second before doing a figure-eight motion with the tip of his tongue, and again. And again. You wondered if you would come before he grew tired, but then you realized that he was not stopping, nor faltering.

You propped half of your body on the mattress, letting your eyelids fall shut for a brief moment, focusing on his tongue teasing your clit relentlessly. You caressed his long dark hair, drawing his puppy eyes to yours. “I’m almost there,” you choked out, your limbs tensing in response.

“God, Gyu,” you tilted your head back, a tiny giggle escaping you. “You’re so good at this,” you whispered aloofly.

Your fingers curled in his hair, feeling like you were falling, sinking into a puddle of pleasure. Arousal and drool dripped on the covers of the bed as the tension in your body brimmed you to the point you were shaking.

“Min-mingyu,” you choked out, so close to the edge you could barely hold out. “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m co-,” your orgasm rippled through you, body going limp with sweet pleasure, shaking, and whimpering pathetically.

He placed one final open kiss on your clit before rising from the floor, a satisfied look on his face. “Shorty?” he mumbled.

“I’m good,” you gasped dazedly.

“Want more?” he asked, climbing back on top of you.

“I need you,” you cupped his neck, pulling him into a fervent kiss. You tasted yourself in his mouth, his chin wet with your arousal, making your walls throb around nothing. “I need you now.”

That brought a wolfish grin from him. “How do you want me, baby?”

“Lie down,” you breathed, finding his hard chest with your hands.

You knew it was incredibly hard to push his body, but somehow you did. Pushing his broad shoulders as you managed to get on top of him again, but this time, as you were both utterly naked in your bed, it felt completely different.

“Oh god,” he blurted, his hands gripping your hips instantly as you lowered your ass to sit on him.

“You were amazing,” you husked, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that resounded with a lewd smacking noise.

His fingers dug into the skin of your hips in reaction to your praise, groaning as he captured your lips with his own again.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked, your tone weakened by the pleasure and the urge of feeling him.

He blinked for one long second. “No,” he rasped. “Do you?”

You shook your head. “I could suck you off,” you mumbled meekly, your gaze shifting between his eyes and lips. “But I’m on birth control.”

“I’m clean,” he mumbled. Your heart deflated just a little.

“I want you, Min,” you whispered, brushing his lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

A silent groan escaped him. “Please,” he replied in kind. “I want to feel you, baby. Now.”

The sound of his words emboldened you. You sat back on his thick thighs, once you straddled him you realized how big Kim Mingyu actually was. You raked the skin of his torso with the tips of your fingers, making him suck in a breath and shut his eyes close.

“Don’t tease me, please,” he choked out, kneading the flesh of your thighs. “Play later, baby.”

The whiny tone of his plea did not go unnoticed by you, but you kept caressing his skin, exploring it under the pads of your fingers until you reached his pelvis. Mingyu was well groomed, you found out when you grazed the short hairs with your index finger.

“Please,” he breathed, a hand shooting to circle your ankle.

“Alright,” you giggled.

You grabbed his hard cock with one hand, swallowing hard when you felt his soft skin, the thin vein trailing on the underside of his thick shaft. It was heavy and warm as you pumped him, spreading the precum leaking from its reddened tip.

Lifting your hips, your gaze locked on his, he trapped his lower lip behind his teeth, you guided his cockhead to your folds, a moan bubbling in your chest when his hands gripped you tighter. Mingyu sucked in a breath, swallowing a deep moan as you sank down on him.

“God,” you sighed, tears brimming in your eyes at the euphoric sensation of his cock stretching your walls deliciously.

But none of you broke eye contact, much as if neither wanted to miss the reactions you got from feeling each other.

“Fuck,” he whined once you bottomed out on him with a moan from your part. He closed his eyes, shuddering hard underneath you, his hands lingered on your hips, kneading your thighs as if that helped him cling to sanity.

“Okay?” you whispered.

“God, you…” he sighed, licking his lips. “You feel like heaven, baby.”

You smiled at him. “How long have you gone without getting fucked?” the question flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself.

“A while,” he admitted with a raspy tone.

You gave him a smile, before you anchored your hands on his chest, pulling your hips up, and then pressed them back onto his, feeling every naked inch of him. Your mouth fell open. “You’re so big,” you gasped.  

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered.

You shook your head, though the stretch had stopped hurting, you were enjoying it. You tucked your feet beneath you, propping them on his thighs to help yourself angle your hips on top of him. “Okay?” you asked again, riding him slowly.

“Perfect,” he replied, lifting his hands to cup your tits while his eyes explored every curve of your body.

You moaned, his fingers toyed with your pebbled nipples, making your hips buckle. “God, Mingyu…” you sighed, picking up the pace on top of him, enjoying the glazed look on his face.

“Fuck,” he gritted, pushing his head back on your fluffy pillows. “I’m gonna come. Baby, I’m g-gonna come.”

By pure instinct, you lifted your hips from his completely, making him sigh heavily but did not complain. You laughed impishly at the frown setting on his face.

“Please! Please, don’t stop, baby,” he whined, his hands clutching your waist. “I can keep going… just let me come, please. I need it.”

Oh, you could become addicted to this. You quickly realized.

You conceded without more begging from his part, sinking down on his cock again. Mingyu let out a long, whiny moan, shuddering when you started bouncing on him again. You leaned forward, managing to trap his lips with your own in a heated kiss. He hummed in your mouth, his hands roaming on your back. 

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped. “I swear, you feel like nothing else baby.”

You moaned, feeling your eyebrows pinch involuntarily. “You’re close, Min?” you asked, your tone going sweet and velvety for some reason.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Don’t edge me again, please.”

“Okay,” you giggled. “Wanna come inside me, Min?” you brushed his long dark hair back.

You caught sight of awe shooting on the features of his face. “Ye-yeah,” he breathed. “Please, please I’m so close, baby…”

You left a small peck on his lower lip, bouncing on him gently. “Come inside me, Mingyu,” you whispered.

“Oh god,” he gasped, grabbing your hips, helping you ground on him at the speed he needed to find his release, which came quickly, making him squeeze his eyes shut for a second before finding your eyes. “Baby, I’m coming, fuck, fuuuuuck…”

His mouth parted, a sharp intake of breath resounding across the walls right before a raspy moan came out of his pretty lips. The sight was so alluring that you feared the image would never leave your mind, you knew it would haunt you every night.

His grip became limp, and you stopped swaying your hips on him, kissing his lips as he came down from his high.

“Don’t stop,” he breathed, finding your thigh with one hand, then the other, caressing your ass before he motioned you to continue moving on him.

“Mingyu-,”

“I told you, shorty,” he said, showing you a lazy grin. “I can keep going.”

An ecstatic feeling rushed through you.

“It’s okay, Mingyu,” you said. “I’m good.”

“I want you to come,” he muttered, his voice thickened and gruff by arousal. “Do you want me to help you come, baby?”

“I- yes,” you sighed. “God, yes, Mingyu.”

Mingyu nodded, grabbing your hips as he shifted on the bed, planting the soles of his feet on the mattress to lift his hips, fucking into you, his cock reached deeper inside your walls, and deeper. A whiny cry escaped your mouth, your hands flying to grab onto his shoulders.

“Mingyu!”

Then he started plowing into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming louder, impossible for the whole neighborhood to ignore. The headboard banged against the wall, mattress creaking with each of Mingyu’s hard thrusts.

He gritted his teeth, his eyes lost on the features of your face as you wailed, and cried out on top of him, nearing your sweet release.

“Fuck, fuck, Mingyu, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cried out, a low whiny moan escaping you as you reached your second orgasm. This one was fiery, consuming you fast and mercilessly. Mingyu grunted, and you knew just by the fucked out look on his face that he was coming with you but kept fucking into you through your high, dumping his second load inside you.

You were panting, shaking, languid with pleasure as he lowered his hips back on your bed again, reaching out for you by putting a hand on the back of your head, prompting you to lie on his chest.

“You’re okay?” he asked with a sigh.

“Yeah, yes,” you breathed raggedly. “Perfect. You?”

Mingyu chuckled, wrapping his heavy arms around you in a warm embrace. “Perfect.”

You closed your eyes, ignoring the alarming voices in your head.

There was a thing you were certain of: you were playing with fire. But you wanted him, even if that also meant that you wanted to make him forget his broken heart. You wanted to ease his pain.

“We need to clean up,” you said, lifting your head from his chest.

Mingyu smiled, brushing your hair, tucking it behind your ear with his fingers. “Can’t we stay like this for a minute?” he said with a lazy drawl.

“Okay,” you whispered, leaning down on his chest again.

You listened to his heartbeat, caressing his chest with one hand. You smiled.

“What?” he asked, hearing your tiny giggle.

“Will you accept that ramen now?” you asked.

Mingyu chuckled, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I think I will.”

The following Sunday rolled around and you did not go to the bar this time, feeling like it was a little too soon to see Mingyu again after the night he spent at your place. And thankfully, you did not feel hollow for once, even as you sat quietly in your apartment.

That was until the loud buzzing of your phone broke the perpetual stillness of the living room.

[8:40 PM] min: Are you free tomorrow? [8:40 PM] min: Can I come over to yours? [8:40 PM] min: I can't stop thinking about you.

That drew a big smile out of you. You replied in an instant, letting him know that he could come to yours, sealing the deal with Mingyu, whom you never thought would make you feel something real again.

☆ author's note: hi there! (⁠•⁠ө⁠•⁠)⁠♡

don't hate shorty for her actions, she had to take risks lol. she is a hot ass mess but give my girl a chance, she'll get better (✿◠‿◠) this fic is lowkey inspired by the song two weeks by fka twigs and my personal life experience

the journey of this fic is. . . kind of long. i started drafting this fic back in december 2023. i originally intended it to be a one shot, only focusing on the rebound aspect. but for some reason i couldn't get myself to write it and then. . . my ex partner and i broke up after years of being together. i kind of understood why i couldn't write this fic. and so here it is.

not me oversharing on tumblrdotcom oh well you could practically see into my soul in all my fics, c'est la vie haha

also my general taglist is a mess so,

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED FOR THIS SERIES, PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS CHAPTER, PUT IT ON YOUR REBLOG TAGS OR SEND ME AN ASK PLEEEEASE PRETTY PLS OR, JOIN MY TAGLIST

anyways,

toodles

☆ READ PART II! ☆ | JOIN MY TAGLIST | BUY ME COFFEE? ♡

© TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[barnacles34]

Steamy Mornings and Massages (Winter x Male OC)

7k words

Tags: smut, fluff, office sex, office massage, soulmates, romance, very love-heavy

Chapter 1: The Day After

"Let's just stay here," Minjeong murmured, pressing soft kisses to the crown of Junho's head. The morning alarm had shattered what his typically precise mind had categorized as Optimal Comfort Configuration™, but neither of them had moved to silence it[1].

His face remained buried in the crook of her neck, accepting what his mind reluctantly acknowledged as the only form of comfort he'd ever truly wanted. "Well, my secretary," he rumbled against her skin, the possessive pronoun carrying new weight in the morning light, "on a very important day, doesn't want to go to work?" Despite his words, his arms tightened incrementally around her waist, betraying his own reluctance.

Minjeong's embrace constricted in response, her Busan accent thick with morning warmth. "What are you going to do? Fire me?" Despite the implied challenge, she still continued to press soft kisses on his forehead. He tightened his embrace further, relishing in the warmth of Minjeong.

The challenge in her voice activated something primal in his executive functioning. His teeth grazed her neck in warning, hovering over precisely the spot that would make any low-necked blouse useless to wear for the following days. "Maybe," he murmured, his hand sliding to the small of her back with deliberate intent, dangerously close to the curve of her backside, "I'll fire you and keep you here, all day long, so that you belong only to me."

"That's..." her breath hitched as his hand dropped lower, "...rather unprofessional of you."

He lifted his head just enough to fix her with that boardroom stare that never failed to make her pulse race. "Says the woman currently preventing her CEO from attending his meetings." Her CEO? Something warm raced inside of her—she thought, her ceo? And this time, she wrapped her arms tighter—however much her thin arms could tighten; nevertheless, an affectionate hug.

"I prefer to think of it as optimizing your morning routine," she countered, though her professional efficiency was somewhat undermined by the way she melted under his touch, furthermore when he traced the curves of her backside. "Some things are more important than the Zhang Corp merger."

His laugh vibrated against her throat. "Careful, Secretary Kim. That sounds dangerously close to insubordination."

"And what does the CEO do with insubordinate employees?" The question emerged soft and weaker than intended as his mouth traced a deliberate path along her collar, trying her most obnoxiously.

"That depends," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made her breath catch. "Are they all as beautiful as you when they disobey direct orders?"

She attempted to maintain her composure, though her hands betrayed her by pulling him closer. "I wouldn't know. I've never seen you like this with other employees[2]."

"No," he agreed, suddenly serious as he raised his head to meet her gaze. "You haven't. You won't."

The intensity in his eyes made her throat tight. "Promise?"

Instead of answering, he caught her mouth in a kiss that effectively ended all discussion of work protocols and proper business conduct[3]. The morning sun painted complex equations of light across their entangled forms, but for once, neither of them was counting the minutes.

—

[1] The first recorded instance of CEO Kim's morning alarm continuing past its initial 0.3-second alert phase, a fact that would require significant updates to the home automation system's behavioral prediction models.

[2] The security system's emotion recognition protocols flagged this moment for what its algorithms could only classify as "Unprecedented Display of Executive Vulnerability."

[3] Later analysis would suggest that certain forms of insubordination yielded surprisingly positive results in terms of overall company morale, though these findings were kept strictly off the official record.

—

"You haven't eaten properly in days," Minjeong observed softly, her fingers tracing the subtle tension in his shoulders that most wouldn't notice. But she wasn't most people—she'd spent months learning to read the microscopic signs of his stress levels[4].

"I've been eating," he defended, though his attempt at authority was somewhat undermined by the way he instinctively relaxed under her touch.

"Coffee and quarterly reports don't count as meals," she countered, continuing her gentle exploration of his shoulder muscles. "I've watched you skip lunch three times this week alone."

He lifted his head to study her face, finding that mix of strength and tenderness that had first undone him. "You keep track of my meals?"

"I keep track of everything about you," she admitted, not backing down from his intense gaze. "Someone has to notice when you forget to take care of yourself."

His hand curved around the nape of her neck, thumb brushing her pulse point. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Consider it an extension of my secretarial duties," she murmured, then gasped softly as he tightened his grip in warning.

"There's nothing secretarial about the way you take care of me," he corrected, voice low and dangerous. "Is there, Minjeong-ah?"

The informal address, rarely used, made her breath catch. "No," she agreed quietly. "There isn't."

He studied her for a long moment, his analytical mind cataloging the flush in her cheeks, the slight quickening of her breath, the way she yielded to his touch while somehow maintaining that core of quiet strength[5]. "You're dangerous," he finally said, “dangerously beautiful, so beautiful,” then a kiss on the side of her neck which, eventually, will turn into a hickey and Minjeong hadn’t the power to resist her CEO’s advances anymore.

"Me?" She replied, out of breath, tremored, brilliantly transformed by her smile—the type of smile men fight wars for, the type of smile sinewy sociopathic CEOs would drop down for. "I'm just trying to make sure Korea's most brilliant CEO—I mean, my CEO, remembers to eat breakfast." Her small hand collected the waves of his hair, the aroma of the shampoo she recommended wafted in the air.

“Minjeong, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Is that a problem?” She pulled back her hand along his scalp, gathering hair, then trailing all down his nape, to his back: the type of affection that says, even if you were insane, I’d still be crazy about you.

Instead of answering directly, he pressed his lips to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth—a calculated sequence of kisses that made her melt further into his embrace. "The only problem," he murmured against her skin, "is that you're making it very difficult to want to leave this bed."

—

[4] Her observation logs, never shared but meticulously maintained, included such details as the precise angle of his jaw when overwhelmed, the subtle shift in his typing rhythm when stressed, and the exact tone of voice that meant he'd skipped meals.

[5] The home automation system's behavioral analysis protocols struggled to categorize this new dynamic, where authority and surrender seemed to flow both ways simultaneously.

—

"Three days," Minjeong continued, her fingers finding the knots in his shoulders with practiced ease. "You've had that tension here since the Singapore deal started falling apart." The morning light caught the subtle furrow in his brow as he processed her words, realizing she'd been tracking his stress levels without him noticing. Her touch was methodical yet tender, each pressure point targeted with the same precision she applied to his scheduling.

"I didn't think anyone had noticed," he admitted, then caught her knowing smile. "Except you."

"I always notice," she replied simply. "Like how you've been drinking twice your usual coffee intake, or how your left eye twitches slightly when the board sends those passive-aggressive emails." Her hands moved lower, finding another point of tension. "You hide it well, but not from me."

He caught her wrist, bringing it to his lips. "It becomes…oddly weird when I see you do the things I usually do." The tease in his voice was softened by the way he pressed kisses to her fingertips.

"Consider it preventive maintenance," she countered, not backing down despite Junho trying to hide his habits under the rug, not backing down despite the heat in his gaze. "Someone needs to monitor your functionality levels[6]."

"Functionality levels?" His laugh rumbled against her skin as he shifted to hover over her. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive performance metrics'?" She managed to keep her voice steady even as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "I have spreadsheets..."

"Of course you do," he murmured, teeth grazing her collarbone in retaliation. "My perfectly thorough secretary, tracking every detail."

"Not just details," she breathed, hands sliding up his chest. "I know when you skip lunch to avoid the board members. When you stay late reviewing reports that could wait until morning. When you need..." she paused as his hand curved possessively around her hip, "...someone to remind you that you're human."

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Junho lifted his head to study her face, finding that unique blend of submission and strength that had first undone his carefully constructed defenses[7]. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Someone has to." Her smile carried traces of Busan sunshine. "Besides, I'm uniquely qualified."

"How so, Minjeong-ah?” Another tease. 

“Because you love me.” Minjeong stated, matter of factly. And this time, Junho seized her tight, trapping her under him, seizing her two thin wrists. Then, pressed a deep kiss onto Minjeong’s delicate lips. After a while, he released himself from the kiss, the kiss that Minjeong reluctantly let go of—her lips pointing outwards like a duck as he left. Finally, he said, “That’s right, I love you.”

Her stomach stirred with butterflies and more.

—

[6] Her personal files, never shared but meticulously maintained, included detailed protocols for managing various levels of CEO stress responses, from subtle intervention to direct action.

[7] The exact moment of this defensive breach had been logged by the building's security systems, though the footage was classified under "Executive Privacy Protocols."

—

Minjeong lingered in bed, her heart performing calculations that had nothing to do with quarterly reports. The smart home system's sensors detected her elevated pulse rate, though no algorithm could properly quantify the joy radiating from her smile[8]. She stretched luxuriously against Egyptian cotton sheets that still held traces of his warmth, letting herself marvel at the reality of being here, in his space, surrounded by evidence of Junho.

Her mind couldn't help but catalog the endearing chaos around her—academic journals scattered across surfaces, a tablet displaying economic projections that had clearly been reviewed at 3 AM, several coffee cups in various states of abandonment. The morning light revealed what darkness and desire had hidden the night before: Junho's private space was a fascinating contradiction to his public persona, a detail she filed away with all her other precious observations of him.

Rising with practiced grace, she padded across cold hardwood floors, her bare feet gliding across the floor. His dress shirt from the previous night—the one that had hung open as they'd discovered more interesting uses for his mahogany desk—called to her like a siren song. She slipped it on, the fabric carrying traces of his unisex cologne and something uniquely him that made her stomach flutter[9].

Junho emerged from his ensuite bathroom to find her like this: drowning in his shirt, examining his space with that careful attention she brought to everything concerning him. His breath caught audibly.

"That's mine," he noted, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that never failed to make her pulse race.

She turned to face him, letting the hem of his shirt brush against her thighs. "Really? I think it’s mine."

—

[8] The home automation system logged this moment as: "Secondary User Biometrics Indicating Unprecedented Levels of Serotonin. CEO Response: Highly Favorable."

[9] Security footage would later reveal this as the exact moment CEO Kim's usually impeccable morning routine experienced a critical efficiency failure, though no one questioned why that particular shirt never made it to the dry cleaners.

—

"You know," Junho mused against her neck, his hands tracing idle patterns on her thighs, "for someone so concerned about my eating habits, you're being very distracting in my kitchen."

"Me?" Minjeong's attempt at innocence was undermined by the way her fingers kept playing with his hair. "I'm trying to feed you."

"Wearing my shirt. Sitting on my counter." His smile carried equal parts mischief and heat as he pulled back to look at her. "I'm starting to think this is corporate sabotage, Secretary Kim."

She tried to maintain her professional expression, though her lips twitched. "I would never compromise company productivity, 사장님."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, fingers sliding deliberately higher under his shirt. "Then explain why Korea's most efficient CEO is currently contemplating skipping his 9 AM."

"Poor executive guidance?" she suggested, then squeaked as he nipped her earlobe in retaliation. "I mean... clearly you need better supervision."

"Is that your professional opinion?" His laugh was warm against her skin. "And I suppose you're volunteering for the position?"

"Well," she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently, "I do have extensive experience in handling difficult executives."

He lifted his head, eyes dancing. "Difficult?"

"Demanding," she amended, then added with deliberate sweetness, "High-maintenance?"

"You," he declared, catching her wrists and pinning them behind her back with one hand, "are getting dangerously bold with your performance reviews[12]."

Her answering smile was pure sunshine. "Does that mean I'm not getting that raise?"

"Oh, I'll give you a raise," he promised, his free hand sliding up her spine as he pressed closer. "Right after we discuss your insubordination."

"I have a presentation prepared," she managed, though her breath hitched as his mouth found that sensitive spot behind her ear. "Complete with charts on CEO stubbornness metrics..."

"Using company resources for personal research?" His mock disapproval was somewhat undermined by the way he couldn't stop smiling against her skin. "That's a serious violation of corporate policy."

"And what's the penalty for that?" She arched into his touch, shameless. "More overtime with my boss?"

"Definitely." He captured her mouth in a kiss that tasted like laughter and promise. "Starting now[13]."

—

[12] The home automation system registered this interaction as a significant deviation from standard performance review protocols, though it noted remarkable improvements in overall satisfaction metrics.

[13] Later analysis of the kitchen's usage patterns would reveal this as the morning the coffee maker recorded its latest ever first brew, a delay that would become surprisingly routine.

—

"We're going to be late," Minjeong observed, though she made no move to leave her perch on the counter as Junho's hands mapped new territories beneath his borrowed shirt. The morning sun painted gold across his shoulders, and she couldn't resist tracing the light with her fingers.

"Concerned about punctuality now?" His smile was wicked against her collar. "After deliberately sabotaging your CEO's morning routine?"

"I would never," she protested, then gasped as his teeth found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I'm simply... optimizing your schedule."

"Is that what we're calling it?" His laugh vibrated through both their bodies as he pressed closer, effectively trapping her against the granite. "And how does this particular optimization benefit the company?"

Her fingers curled into his hair as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "Improved executive mood... increased satisfaction metrics... better work-life balance..."

"Very thorough analysis," he approved, his hand sliding higher up her thigh. "Though I think we need more data points[14]."

"준호야..." Her professional composure cracked entirely as his fingers found bare skin. "The Zhang Corp meeting..."

"Can wait." He lifted his head to meet her gaze, his smile carrying that perfect blend of authority and affection that never failed to undo her. "I'm conducting important research."

"On what?" She managed to arch an eyebrow despite her rapidly dissolving coherence. "How to make your secretary lose her mind?"

"Girlfriend," he corrected, voice dropping to that dangerous register as his thumb traced patterns on her inner thigh. "And I believe we were discussing your performance review[15]."

Jun abruptly stopped their performance review midway because the deal was on the line and time was running short. Minjeong was reminded of this painfully by how Jun pulled away from the kiss—she was pouty about it until they reached the office, when her damascus-like resolve kicks in.

—

[14] The kitchen's environmental sensors registered multiple instances of what could only be classified as "Critical Protocol Deviations," though these readings were automatically archived under "Executive Privacy Settings."

[15] HR would later note a curious correlation between the CEO's improved mood and these new "morning performance evaluations," though no one dared to investigate further.

—

Chapter 2: The Meeting

The Zhang Corp representatives sat across the mahogany conference table, their expressions carefully neutral as they reviewed the merger proposals. Minjeong maintained her perfect professional facade, though her pulse quickened every time Junho's hand brushed hers as she passed him documents[1].

"The third quarter projections," she murmured, leaning close enough that his cologne made her thoughts stray to their morning activities. His finger tapped twice against the paper—their private signal that he needed a moment to compose himself.

"As you can see," Junho addressed the room with that commanding presence that made board members squirm, though Minjeong could detect the slight roughness in his voice that hadn't been there before their morning 'delay', "our integration timeline is aggressive but achievable."

She took her seat beside him, crossing her legs in a way that made his pen pause fractionally on the contract. Two could play at this game of professional torture. His response was to rest his hand on her thigh under the table, hidden from view but commanding enough to make her breath catch[2].

"Secretary Kim," he said smoothly, his thumb tracing dangerous patterns against her skin, "would you pull up the logistics breakdown?"

"Of course, 사장님." She managed to keep her voice steady as she reached for her tablet, though her free hand found his wrist under the table, her fingers curling around it in what could have been either submission or warning.

The meeting proceeded with perfect corporate efficiency, though the undercurrent of tension between CEO and secretary created what the room's environmental sensors could only classify as "Critical Atmospheric Pressure"[3].

—

[1] The conference room's biometric scanners noted elevated heart rates in both CEO and secretary, though this data was diplomatically omitted from official meeting records.

[2] Security footage would later require careful editing to maintain professional appearances, particularly regarding certain "under-table activities."

[3] The Zhang Corp representatives would later confess to the fact that they could tell what was happening, no amount of demure leg-crossing could hide it. Though, they ignored it in order to get that deal (which was integral to them).

—

The private office door clicked shut behind them, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across imported marble floors. Junho rolled his shoulders, tension evident in his posture despite the meeting's success[4].

"Come here," Minjeong said softly, recognizing the signs of his post-negotiation stress. She guided him to his leather chair, her hands already moving to his shoulders. "You get so tense during these meetings." Instead of standing behind him and the chair, she stood in front, impending a mount to get ‘better access’ to his shoulders.

"Keeping my hands to myself requires considerable effort," he admitted, then groaned softly as her fingers found a particularly tight knot. "Especially when you keep giving me those looks."

"What looks?" Her innocent tone was betrayed by the way her hands slid lower, tracing patterns down his upper chest. "I was being perfectly professional."

He caught her wrist, tugging her to face him. "Professional? Is that what you call that thing you did with your pen?"

"Taking notes?" She smiled down at him, letting her fingers trail along his tie. "I'm very thorough in my documentation."

"Very thorough," he agreed, pulling her into his lap with practiced ease. "Though I noticed some interesting gaps in the meeting minutes."

"Oh?" Her hands returned to his shoulders, kneading the tension even as she shifted closer. "Like what?"

"Like how many times you deliberately brushed against me," his voice dropped lower as her fingers worked their magic, "or how your skirt kept riding up when you reached for files[5]."

"Maybe," she breathed, her ministrations becoming less therapeutic and more intentional, "your secretary just needs better supervision."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Is that what you need, Secretary Kim?"

Instead of answering, she pressed a kiss to that spot below his ear that always made him growl. His hands tightened on her hips in warning, but she didn't stop her exploration of his neck, her fingers still working the tension from his shoulders even as she created a different kind of pressure entirely.

"The door," he managed, though his hands were already sliding under her blouse.

"Locked," she murmured against his skin. "I'm very efficient."

"My perfect secretary," he agreed.

—

[4] The office's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Post-Meeting Stress Relief Protocol: Executive Override Engaged."

[5] The meeting's official minutes would maintain strict professional standards, though certain observations were kept in much more private records.

—

"You're still tense," Minjeong observed, her fingers tracing new patterns down his spine. The afternoon light painted gold across his desk, where various merger documents lay forgotten. "Let me take care of you properly."

She slid from his lap, moving behind his chair with practiced grace. Her hands returned to his shoulders, this time with more purposeful intent. Junho's head fell back as she worked a particularly tight knot, a sound escaping him that had nothing to do with professional conduct[7].

"That noise," she murmured, leaning close enough that her breath teased his ear, "is definitely not going in the meeting minutes."

His laugh turned into another groan as her thumbs hit a sensitive spot. "Keeping secrets from the board, Secretary Kim?"

"Only the interesting ones," she admitted, her hands sliding lower, tracing the muscles of his back through his expensive shirt. "Like how my very commanding CEO turns to putty when I do this..."

His hand shot up to catch her wrist in warning. "Careful," his voice carried that dangerous edge that made her stomach flip. "You're getting bold with your observations."

"Just maintaining detailed records," she breathed, not backing down despite his grip. "For example, when I press here..." Her free hand found another knot, making him inhale sharply. "Your left eye twitches slightly. And when I do this..." She leaned forward, letting her lips brush his neck. "Your pulse jumps exactly like it did during the merger talks[8]."

The chair spun suddenly, Junho pulling her back into his lap with decisive force. "You," he growled, hands spanning her waist, "are playing a dangerous game."

Her smile was pure innocence, though her fingers were already working his tie loose. "I'm simply being thorough in my duties, 사장님."

"Your duties," he repeated, watching her with dark amusement as she stripped his tie with expert efficiency. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive stress relief'?" She gasped as his teeth found her collar. "Or maybe 'personnel management'?"

His laugh vibrated against her skin. "I prefer," he murmured, hands sliding deliberately up her thighs, "when you stop talking altogether[9]."

—

[7] The office's audio sensors temporarily malfunctioned during this period, a technical glitch that occurred with suspicious regularity during certain "private meetings."

[8] Her personal files contained extensive documentation of CEO behavioral patterns, though certain observations were encrypted under "Private Research: Ongoing."

[9] The afternoon's remaining meetings would require creative rescheduling, though no one questioned why the CEO's mood had improved so dramatically.

—

"You missed a spot," Minjeong murmured against his mouth, her fingers finding another knot of tension in his shoulders even as she shifted closer in his lap. The leather chair creaked softly beneath them, a sound that would forever carry new associations in both their minds[10].

"Did I?" His hands slid higher beneath her skirt, mapping territories that were becoming dangerously familiar for office hours. "Or are you just making excuses to keep touching your CEO?"

She pulled back just enough to give him that look—the one that somehow managed to be both defiant and yielding. "I take my responsibilities very seriously, 사장님."

"I've noticed," he growled, catching her wrist as she tried to maintain the pretense of massage. "Like how seriously you took those meeting notes earlier. Very... thorough."

Her laugh caught in her throat as his lips found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I was documenting important observations."

"Such as?" His teeth grazed her pulse point, making her grip his shoulders for balance.

"Such as," she managed, though her professional tone wavered as his hands grew bolder, "how the great Kim Junho gets distracted when I cross my legs. How your voice drops exactly half an octave when you're trying not to react to me. How you tap your pen twice when you're thinking about—"

He silenced her with a kiss that effectively derailed all attempts at analysis[11]. When he finally pulled back, her dazed expression made him smirk. "Any other observations to record, Secretary Kim?"

“I must’ve forgotten, I usually remember better when you kiss me.” She hinted, and he obliged, letting his lips connect yet again with Minjeong. This time, the endless teasing reached a breaking point that both of them coalesced to at the same time.

He tightly grasped her backside then pulled her up from the executive chair to the executive table. Wherein, she was splayed across the wide table. “We really have to ban tables when we’re around each other.” She joked. 

“That’d be a terrible idea.”

“How so?”

“Where else could I splay you across like this, then explore you, centimeter-by-centimeter?”

“Hmm…” she hummed, pleased, "Yeah?"

“Yeah.”

“Then come here, my ceo.”

“My beautiful secretary, whatever shall I do with you?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you find out?” She pulled as tight as she could, locking her arms around his neck.

He obliged, meeting lips with her once again. He felt the softness of her face as he explored deeper into the kiss, forgetting time and everything except what was being shared between them. Journeying his hands further, entangling it into the silken strands of his lover as he deepened the kiss, and she replied with a deep sigh—trembling with a mix of her high register. 

“You’re such a good woman for me, Minjeong.” He said before nipping at her lower lip, catching it softly between his teeth with a teasing tug, Minjeong let out a breathless laugh, “you’re devouring me, Junho.” Regardless, he dug deeper, letting his entire body shift into Minjeong’s malleable, petite body—letting his hand explore more of her silken strands, almost saying, yes Minjeong, that is my purpose: to devour you.

Now, instead of every 5 seconds, Minjeong’s soft moans that only served to goad Junho on were musically released into his ears every second. Precautiously, she asked, “how good is the soundproofing in your private room-ah!”

“Not good enough to hide your moans, dear.” He replied, his voice like rough gravel. Her eyes widened suddenly from the need to hide her moans. Yet he dug deeper, letting his loin rub against her wet bottom, daring her moan out loud.

Despite all the regulations, the possible condemnation, their passions only grew more. Mouths moving in sync, gazes meeting momentarily, it wasn’t just kissing anymore—it was a language. The type of language where Minjeong coalesced to his dangerous games and learned to enjoy it, almost as much as him.

“Junho, seriously, I don’t want to be seen as-”

“Minjeong-ah, I don’t give a single fuck if my employees hear you and I.” The teeth that so brazenly tugged on her lower lips trailed down her neck, tracing the soft tendons.

Whispering, in a verbose way, “And as you are my secretary, my extension, my life-line, you’ll follow. Me.” And as Minjeong was getting battered by the gravel-slung voice of Junho—she hadn’t noticed how her blouse was opened, bra pushed down to reveal the breasts that he was so infatuated with—only until she felt the torsion of her nipple.

“Ngh!”

“I love that, Minjeong, scream out. I’ll fuck you until the entire floor hears you call my name.”

And another wet mewl that inspired his further deviance.

Feeling the soft suction of his mouth on her neck, she deduced that it could only mean one thing: another hickey just placed above the collar of her blouse, the same sort of hickey that the Zhang corp executives couldn’t keep their eyes off of—any justification in their minds that it was a skin discoloration was debilitated by how intensely Minjeong and Junho shared those deadly glances, likely to jump on each other as soon as they left—and they were right.

“Junho—ngh!”

“Louder.” He replied, testing her, “fucking. Louder.” Then he pressed deeper, grinding his rough textured pants on the creamy soft bottom of Minjeong.

“Please Junho, seriously.” Was all that she could get out of her bated breaths, her deep moans.

Then suddenly, he stopped, caressing the softness of her cheeks with his, back-handed, knuckles.

“You look so beautiful when you’re all tired and exhausted, did I tell you that before?” Letting the tune of his voice marinate with Minjeong (who was recovering from how hot and bothered she was just a second ago).

However good his intentions were, he wasn’t perfect. The way Minjeong’s body looked splayed against the messy paperwork, her blonde hair all frizzy and stuck to the desk, how her chest went in-and-out catching all the breath she lost—all of it made it impossible for him to resist anymore.

He pounced on her again, connecting lips against her wet, trembling lips that nonetheless accepted him so openly, like a warm cup of milk tea on a winter morning. That momentary pause had changed everything, Minjeong—now fully conquered by him—was begging for that penetrative action that he would give out so liberally to her.

“Naughty woman, bad secretary, what else?”

“Junho’s toy.” 

“Fuck.” And in a flash, his belt flew off, then in another flash, his pants fell down. 

“Tented much?” She was truly in no position to tease: a strategic error.

He grinned at the statement, finally, teasingly, let his underwear fall inch-by-inch. 

Simultaneously, she bunched up her legs then pulled off her panty that revealed the color combinations that he would die for. Though before he could look for longer, she crossed her shins—hiding the cause of Junho’s demise behind her thin legs.

They shared a giggle before Jun hugged her soft body.

“I will penetrate you in this office.”

“Yes. It appears so.”

“No, like, do you consent?”

“Idiot..” Minjeong pulled him in for another kiss. Which, coincidentally, made his tip graze her engorged and swollen core, Minjeong almost came instantaneously from that alone.

And he could tell, laughing, “Seriously, Minjeong?”

“It’s your fault, you trained me like this.”

“This is like our 3rd time.” He said, as if to brush it off.

“This is my 3rd time.” 

And Minjeong would be certainly hurt by the thought that Junho’s partners before her made it more than his 3rd time for him—some of them, the girlfriends, she saw. 

He caught on the clues before it was too late, “Minjeong, not to compare, but who else have I been so crazy about? Who else did I track for every minute of the day? Who else did I let in my home (his girlfriends didn’t, actually, get to enter his home)? Who else would make me lose composure when they’re out of my sight-line?”

Letting his forehead touch against hers, he could feel her heart rend and beat and do all sorts of bothered gymnastics.

“It’s always been about you, Minjeong. You are the brilliance of my life, the expansion of a born star—bright from millions of light years away.”

And she needn’t say anything or reply. Absolving him by wrapping her arms tighter around his nape, then holding up her head to desperately kiss Junho again and again.

In between all the kisses, he penetrated Minjeong. His length, constricted against her core, travelled softly—wringing out all sorts of noises. Her swollen pussy wrapped around him gently but tight. “I love you, Minjeong.” Was the last thing said before Minjeong’s eyes went into the back of her head—a cute habit—before she orgasmed and creamed all over.

As per her request, Junho didn’t stop. He let his hips move as slow as he could possibly go before it could be called torture. During all this, Minjeong grabbed for stability as she was getting fucked through her orgasm, feeling that intense thrusting from the love of her life as she covered his length in more of her slick.

“Oh f-” He covered her mouth this time, respecting her wish to stay at least a little lowkey in the office, whatever the hell that meant right now. Then, shallow thrusts turned into slow thrusts all the way to the hilt, getting Minjeong to scrunch her face in pleasure, eyebrows knitted in the highest pleasure, her mouth agape with strands of her saliva connecting the roof of her mouth to her tongue.

“I love you, Minjeong. Fuck. This is insane, having sex with you in my office.”

“Ngh~ I - I love you so much,” was all that she could get across before succumbing to her dopamine receptors—eyes joining the back her head. Junho connected lips with her again, letting her legs lock around his waist, then rubbing his pelvis against her engorged core, clitoris and all.

After Minjeong finally got used to the familiar motions, he grasped her thin waist, almost wrapping his two hands around the entire circumference of her tight waist. Then their eyes met momentarily, Junho had the I am going to fuck you through this desk eyes whilst Minjeong had the prey eyes that relentlessly coalesced to him. Though, before he could go wild, he brushed off the stray hairs stuck to her forehead, gave a reaffirming kiss on her forehead before pumping all the way in.

The small of her back surrendered to his tight grip, bending against the pushes and pulls. Her legs tightened the lock around his waist—almost painfully tight, but that didn’t matter to him, who’d get to pummel her soft pussy.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he planted his body against Minjeong’s, pinning her two thin wrists against the stable table.

“You’re fucking me so good, Junho,” Minjeong replied, her rare use of the curse made him chuckle by the side of her head. 

“That’s right, baby,” Junho bear-hugged Minjeong, only thrusting deeper and deeper, pelvis rubbing against hers, to make her cum again.

“NGHHH~!” The abrupt moan startled him and herself—however, they didn’t care as much about the employees anymore after indulging in each other’s bodies. Instead of stopping or evaluating the situation—as the rationalists would do—they dug deeper into each other, trying to carve each other with their soft and swollen lips.

Suddenly, he lifted Winter and turned her over. Bending her back against the table before dipping his cock into her pussy again. This time, the entrance was entranced with the soft, tight, wet feeling that he was fully obsessed with. This time, he had more ready access to her soft ass that was so soft and supple that he had to relieve it of its aesthetic beauty: with some redness spread across her ass.

“Oh my god!” Winter squeaked as she reacted against the heavy-handed slap against her ass, loving it, spreading—overflowing—his length with her slick.

Leaning over, he held Minjeong’s chin for the last stretch, considerably slowing down and enjoying each other’s presence.

“How much do you bet the coworkers will give us bad looks?”

“The female workers already give me horrible ones.” She said whilst her chin was held stable by his hand, still moaning against the soft thrusts.

“Hmm, broad generalization. How do you know this?”

“That hickey that you gave that was far too purple and far too above the collar of my blouse.”

“No long-necked turtleneck?”

“No, that’d ruin the point, I wanted to show off the gift my Junho-ssi gave.” That was the moment when he moaned hard, pressing deep inside Winter before releasing all his seed—the seed that Winter felt bounce against her cervix, making her moan out and squeal happily.

“God. Minjeong, you will be my demise.” He sighed before Winter turned around and kissed him, “as long as I get to stay with you, through demise and all,” she said between the kisses.

—

[10] The office furniture procurement department would later note an unusual request for "enhanced stability features" in executive seating, though they wisely chose not to inquire further.

[11] The building's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Critical Temperature Fluctuation - Executive Override Protocol Engaged."

—

Evening painted Seoul's skyline in shades of amber and gold, the office gradually emptying as another corporate day drew to a close. Only the executive floor maintained signs of life, though its usual efficiency had given way to something far more intimate[12].

"We should go home," Minjeong murmured against Junho's shoulder, though she made no move to leave her position in his lap. His shirt had long since been unbuttoned, her blouse delightfully rumpled, both their professional facades thoroughly compromised.

"Should we?" His fingers traced lazy patterns up her spine, his other hand still possessively curved around her hip. "I rather like having my secretary exactly where she is."

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, finding that unique blend of authority and affection that never failed to make her heart race. "Your secretary has plans for you."

"Oh?" His interest visibly peaked. "More performance reviews?"

"Better." She smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm cooking you dinner. Besides, breakfast was skipped."

The surprise in his expression made her laugh softly. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, then added with deliberate sweetness, "Unless my CEO is refusing a direct offer from his girlfriend?"

His hands tightened on her waist. "Using that title to manipulate me now?"

"Is it working?" She bit her lip, watching his eyes darken at the gesture.

Instead of answering, he pulled her into a kiss that suggested dinner might be delayed[13]. When they finally broke apart, his smile carried dangerous promise. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours," she decided, fingers playing with his collar. "Your kitchen needs christening properly."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Just the kitchen?"

"We'll see how dinner goes," she teased, then squeaked as he stood suddenly, lifting her with him. "준호야!"

"Efficient time management," he explained, setting her on her feet but keeping her close. "The sooner we leave..."

She pressed against him, deliberate and knowing. "The sooner you can help me... cook?"

"Among other things," he agreed, already reaching for his jacket. The predatory grace in his movements suggested cooking might not be the evening's primary activity[14].

—

[12] Security logs would note this as the third consecutive evening of "Extended Executive Hours," though the actual nature of these extensions remained diplomatically unrecorded.

[13] The office's automated systems began learning to expect these end-of-day delays, adjusting power consumption accordingly.

[14] The kitchen's motion sensors would later flag unusually high activity levels, though whether any actual cooking occurred remained a matter of some debate.

Fin

I fixed some stuff that I executed poorly before, like the crazy amount of math references; which, in foresight, was far too much.

I really had to get this out quickly. Now, I think it's a good idea to not expect anything from me for an entire month (hopefully not).

hope u enjoyed.

[missmaymay13]

close to you - w. eklund

12k | w.eklund x fem!oc | w.smith & m.celebrini x oc platonic

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Summary: the sharks have a new social media intern and immediately the two young rookies stake their claim on her as their "adopted older sister". the three were always attached at the hip. when william eklund meets the new girl, hes immediately smitten by her. the only issue? he's too shy to do anything about it.

masterlist | series masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

If June Johnson had any illusions about starting a calm, professional internship with the San Jose Sharks, they were completely shattered the moment she stepped into the dressing room. She wasn't new to social media—she had spent years running accounts for small businesses, university sports teams, and even a short stint with a junior hockey club. But this? This was different.

This was the NHL.

And the NHL, apparently, came with an unspoken initiation involving two overly energetic rookies and a locker room full of chaos. She had barely set foot inside before she was noticed.

"Wait, you're new." Macklin Celebrini, the Sharks' golden boy, stood in front of her with a curious expression, his practice jersey half on, his skates still untied. Before she could respond, another voice piped up.

"Yeah, dude, she literally just walked in," said Will Smith, his grin wide, blonde hair slightly damp from morning skate. June barely had time to introduce herself before Will and Macklin had already formed a huddle, whispering loudly enough for the entire room to hear.

"Alright, what's the bet?" Will muttered dramatically. "How long do we think before she quits?"

"Oh my god." June rolled her eyes. "I'm literally standing right here." Macklin hummed, rubbing his chin as if he were deep in thought. "I give her three weeks."

"Three weeks?" Will scoffed. "Nah, she looks tough. I say she lasts a month." June crossed her arms. "You guys do realize I control the social media accounts, right? I can absolutely mute you both from existence."

Macklin's eyes widened. "You wouldn't." Will gasped. "That's... I didn't think of that." June smirked. "Try me."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, as if she had passed some unspoken test, Macklin and Will immediately abandoned their "bet" and turned their attention to grilling her instead. "Alright, but for real," Macklin leaned against his stall, arms crossed. "You actually want to work here?"

June shot him a look. "Yes? Why, should I be concerned?" Will grinned. "Let's just say... we're a little much." June snorted. "Oh, I've noticed." That was when Mario Ferraro, one of the veteran defensemen, wandered over with a laugh. "You'll get used to them."

"Will I?" Mario patted her shoulder. "Probably not."

Despite Macklin and Will's warnings, June quickly settled into her role. Her first few days were a whirlwind of learning the ropes, familiarizing herself with the Sharks' social media strategy, and—most importantly—figuring out how to handle the absolute disaster that was the team's young core. It didn't take long for Macklin and Will to adopt her as one of their own. At some point, she had unknowingly become their unofficial babysitter. They followed her around like lost puppies, insisted on helping her gather content, and were constantly dragging her into their antics. By day three, she had already been roped into filming a TikTok where the two of them attempted a viral dance trend.

Spoiler: it did not go well.

"I swear, we had it perfect before you hit record," Will complained, shaking out his hands as Macklin groaned beside him. June snorted. "Sure you did." Macklin narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you going to be this sassy all season?"

"Oh, absolutely." Will grinned. "I like her."

But June quickly realized that handling these two was only part of the challenge—because the rest of the team wasn't any better. She had planned to ease into things, maybe take a few weeks before jumping headfirst into recording the "random question of the day" segment.

Yeah. That plan lasted all of five minutes.

The second Logan Couture spotted her with the team's media camera, he nudged Tomas Hertl. "Bet she asks something ridiculous." Tomas, grinning, turned to her. "First question, let's go."

June hesitated, flipping through her mental list of backup prompts before blurting out, "Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?" The room erupted.

"Oh, that's a good one."

"Wait, do we get weapons?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Absolutely taking the duck-sized horses."

"Are you crazy? The horse-sized duck would kill you."

June blinked as chaos ensued. "...So I take it this is a success?" Mario nodded solemnly. "You're going to fit in just fine."

By the end of her first week, June had established herself as more than just the new intern—she was officially part of the team's day-to-day chaos. She had already lost count of how many times Macklin and Will had dragged her into some ridiculous argument (the most recent one being about whether or not cereal counted as soup). She had also learned that Henry Thrun would agree to any TikTok challenge if you dared him, and that Noah Gregor was terrifyingly good at coming up with completely random, borderline unhinged facts about obscure animals.

Most importantly, she learned that despite their antics, these guys weren't just a team—they were a family. And as much as she had expected to feel like an outsider, June realized something as she sat in the locker room, laughing at yet another one of Will's dumb ideas: She was already part of it.

⸻By the time June's second week rolled around, she had fully accepted her fate. She wasn't just the Sharks' new social media intern. She was now the official (unofficial) babysitter of two NHL rookies who had way too much energy and way too little supervision. Her schedule? Completely dictated by Macklin and Will. Her daily tasks? Constantly interrupted by their antics. Her peace and sanity? Gone.

And the worst part? She didn't even mind.

June had just walked into the practice facility when she heard it. "Junie! HELP!"

She barely had time to process before Macklin came barreling toward her. She dodged out of the way just in time to see Will chasing after him, waving what looked like—was that a half-eaten protein bar?

"You're a menace to society!" Will shouted. "How do you not like peanut butter?!"

"It's disgusting!" Macklin yelled back, jumping behind June for cover. June, half-awake, pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's literally eight in the morning."

"He called peanut butter MID!" Will exclaimed, shoving the evidence (a protein bar wrapper) in her face. "This is a CRIME, June. A CRIME." Macklin peeked out from behind her. "Are you seriously telling me peanut butter is top-tier? Grow up."

"GROW UP?!" And just like that, they were arguing again. June sighed, stepping around them to grab her morning coffee from the media lounge. "I'm too tired for this." She had barely taken her first sip when Logan Couture walked by, shaking his head. "Still want the job?"

June took a long, dramatic sip of her coffee before deadpanning, "I've made my peace with it." Logan smirked. "Good answer."

The thing about Macklin and Will was that they had absolutely no chill. If June thought they had been bad the first week, she completely underestimated just how much worse it could get. They followed her everywhere. They never let her work in peace. They somehow managed to turn every single day into some kind of ridiculous event.

Exhibit A: June had been setting up a behind-the-scenes TikTok, casually filming players walking into practice, when Macklin and Will sprinted into the frame—dramatically sliding in on their socks like they were action movie stars. She barely had time to react before they started posing. "Mack, hit 'em with the Zoolander." Macklin turned to the camera and gave his best Blue Steel impression.

"Oh my god," June muttered. "We're naturals," Will declared, tossing an arm over Macklin's shoulder. "Should we be influencers?" June deadpanned. "Absolutely not."

"Okay, rude."

Exhibit B: June was setting up a mic for a player interview when she felt something land on her head. She immediately knew who was responsible. "Will," she said slowly, reaching up to remove the hockey tape ball that had just been thrown at her. Will, sitting across the room, looked way too innocent. "What?" he said, blinking at her. "That could've been anyone."

June narrowed her eyes. "Really?"

"Really." From beside him, Macklin was struggling not to laugh. "You're lucky I like my job," June muttered, tossing the paper back at him. Will caught it easily, grinning. "You love us." June rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. "Debatable."

It took approximately zero days for the rest of the team to notice just how much time Macklin and Will spent following June around. "They have imprinted on her," Henry Thrun declared during a team meeting. Mario Ferraro nodded solemnly. "She's like their pack leader now."

"I give it a week before she starts bringing them snacks like a hockey mom," Tyler Toffoli joked. The worst part was that June heard all of this.

"You guys are talking like I'm not right here," she pointed out, arms crossed. "Oh, we know," Logan said, smirking. "We just think it's funny." June rolled her eyes. "They're not that bad." That was when Macklin and Will—who had been wrestling over a Gatorade bottle like literal children—accidentally knocked over an entire stack of towels. Everyone turned to her.

June sighed. "Okay, fine, they're a little bad."

By the time practice ended, June was exhausted. Not from the work—no, she could handle that. She was exhausted from babysitting two grown hockey players. As she sat in the lounge, sipping on what had to be her third coffee of the day, she suddenly felt two shadows looming over her.

"Junie." She sighed. "What do you want now?"

Macklin plopped down beside her, grinning. "Just saying hi." Will flopped into the chair on her other side. "We missed you." June gave them a look. "I literally saw you guys an hour ago." Will shrugged. "Yeah, but still." June groaned, dramatically dropping her head onto the table. "I give up." Macklin patted her shoulder. "It's okay. We love you too."

And that's when it hit her. Somehow, without even trying, she had become one of them.

⸻June Johnson was used to chaos by now. She had accepted that working for the San Jose Sharks meant zero peace and infinite amounts of babysitting two overgrown children (Macklin and Will) on a daily basis. But what she hadn't accounted for?

William Eklund.

She had heard his name before—obviously. He was one of the team's top young players, constantly hyped up by the media, and apparently the "responsible" one out of all the rookies. That was a lie. Because when she finally met him? He was the opposite of put-together. In fact, he completely malfunctioned.

June was minding her own business, setting up a camera for a post-practice TikTok, when she felt it. The weirdest, most intense stare from across the room. At first, she ignored it, assuming it was just one of the guys zoning out. But then she heard a very distinct choking noise. She turned—only to find William Eklund standing a few feet away, frozen, wide-eyed, and looking like he had just forgotten how to breathe.

"...Uh," June blinked. "Are you okay?"

William made a sound that was definitely not human. Then, instead of speaking like a normal person, he just kept staring. Like, full-on deer-in-the-headlights staring. It was so bad that even Macklin noticed.

"Yo, Eky," Macklin called, waving a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Eky?"

William didn't respond. He just continued looking at June like she was a mythical creature. Macklin and Will exchanged glances. Then Will, ever the troublemaker, grinned.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "He's starstruck." Macklin's eyes widened. "No way."

June, completely lost, looked between them. "What?" Will beamed. "Oh, this is amazing." At that moment, William finally snapped out of his trance—only to immediately panic.

"Vad i helvete," he blurted out. June frowned. "What?" William visibly cringed. Then, because his brain was apparently not functioning, he started nervously rambling.

"Uh—I—hi," he stuttered. "You're—you're—um."

"Oh my god," Will whispered. "He's broken." Macklin gasped. "Did we just witness love at first sight?"

William immediately turned bright red. "Nej! Sluta!" June tilted her head. "I don't speak Swedish, but that sounded defensive." That only made him more flustered.

Macklin doubled over laughing. "He's panicking! He's literally panicking!" William looked so done. June, still completely out of the loop, crossed her arms. "Okay, can someone explain what's happening?" Will grinned. "Oh, nothing."

"Except that Eky," Macklin added, "is down bad." June raised an eyebrow. "Down bad?"

William groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Jag hatar det här." The second William left the room, Macklin and Will lost their minds.

"This is the best day of my life," Will announced. "I have never seen Eky lose his cool like that."

June, still confused, took a sip of her coffee. "So what you're telling me is..." She pointed toward the door William had just fled through. "That guy just had a meltdown because of me?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"A hundred percent."

June frowned. "But why?" Will grinned. "Because he's so in love with you." June choked on her coffee. "EXCUSE ME?"

Macklin nodded seriously. "It's true." Will gestured toward the hallway. "I mean, did you see that? You literally broke him Junie."

"That was not normal behavior," Macklin agreed. "Oh," Macklin said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "This is gonna be fun."

⸻William was dying.

He had locked himself in the players' lounge, pacing back and forth like a man on the verge of a crisis. Which, to be fair, he was. He had completely embarrassed himself. He had made a fool of himself in front of June. He was never going to live this down. And the worst part? He still hadn't said an actual sentence to her. Instead, he had just... malfunctioned. Because apparently, his brain stopped working whenever June was around. This was a disaster. A complete, total disaster. And William had no idea how he was going to survive the rest of the season.

⸻June Johnson wasn't the type to take things personally. She had thick skin, a sharp sense of humour, and enough patience to deal with Macklin and Will on a daily basis. But even she had her limits. And right now? She was absolutely convinced that William Eklund hated her. It started immediately after their first meeting. At first, she chalked it up to coincidence. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe he had a lot on his mind.

But by the third day? She noticed. Because every time she set up her camera for a TikTok, William suddenly disappeared. And it wasn't subtle. It was full-on, "I see June and immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction" avoidance.

Like today. She had just finished setting up her phone for a new round of "Question of the Day" when she spotted William across the room. She raised a hand to wave. His eyes went wide. And then? He turned and booked it. Like, actual Olympic-level sprinting.

June blinked. "...Did he just run away from me?" Will, standing beside her, cackled. "Oh yeah," he said, grinning. "He totally did." June frowned. "Okay, what is his deal?" Macklin, sitting nearby, hummed in amusement. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," June gestured vaguely toward the door William had just escaped through, "he keeps avoiding me." Will snorted. "Yeah. And?"

"And—!" June huffed. "What did I do?" Macklin and Will exchanged glances. Then they grinned. "Oh," Macklin said innocently. "I'm sure it's nothing."

It wasn't just the dodging. No, because apparently whenever William couldn't escape in time, he had another reaction. He turned bright red. It happened constantly.

The first time, June had genuinely thought he was overheating. She had run into him near the locker room, and the second they made eye contact, his entire face flushed. She had even been concerned for a second.

"Are you okay?" she had asked.

William, visibly struggling, had muttered something under his breath and immediately turned on his heel and left. At first, June didn't think much of it. But then it happened again.

And again.

And AGAIN.

Any time their eyes met? Boom. Red. And yet, somehow, she was the only one confused about it. Macklin and Will? They were having the time of their lives.

"Oh my god, this is so funny," Will had whispered after William once again fled the scene. Macklin nodded. "He's actually suffering."

June, arms crossed, frowned. "Do you guys know something I don't?" Will just smirked. "Maybe." June narrowed her eyes. "I don't trust you." Will patted her shoulder. "That's fair."

By the time a full week had passed, June was convinced she had done something wrong. Because who avoids someone this hard if they don't hate them? She finally snapped during morning skate. She had been setting up her camera when William walked into the room—only to immediately turn around and leave.

June had had enough.

"Okay," she said, turning to Macklin and Will. "Be honest. Does he hate me?" Macklin choked on his water. "What?" Will, looking way too entertained, laughed. "Oh, June." June crossed her arms. "No, seriously. Did I do something?"

Macklin wiped his mouth, still grinning. "You really think Eky hates you?"

"Yes?" June threw up her hands. "He literally refuses to be in the same room as me!" Will, barely containing his laughter, shook his head. "Oh, Junie. You're so, so wrong." June frowned. "Then what is it?" Macklin grinned. "Oh, he doesn't hate you," he said. "Not at all." Will smirked. "If anything, it's the opposite." June blinked. "What?"

Macklin leaned back in his seat, looking way too smug. "June," he said slowly, like he was explaining something obvious. "The guy has a huge crush on you."

June froze.

She stared at them. "What? Absolutely not. You're lying." Will nodded. "Oh yeah." Macklin shrugged. "It's actually kind of pathetic."

"...Wait." She shook her head. "You're telling me that he's been avoiding me because he likes me?" Will beamed. "Exactly." June frowned. "That makes no sense." Macklin snorted. "No, it makes perfect sense."

Will nudged her. "Think about it. He literally panicked when he first met you." Macklin nodded. "And he turns bright red whenever you look at him." Will wiggled his eyebrows. "He's smitten."

June, suddenly replaying every single interaction she had with William, felt her stomach drop. No. That can't be it. This is just Mack and Will pulling on her leg. Shoving Macklin and Will away, she walked away, mumbling about how they're a bunch of idiots that don't know what they're talking about. ⸻William Eklund had one goal today. Survive.

Media day was supposed to be easy. It was literally just a few hours of posing for headshots, recording promo videos, and answering basic questions for the Sharks' social team. Simple. Routine. No stress. Except for one problem.

June was there. And not just there. She was practically running the entire thing. Which meant William was now trapped in a room with her for hours, forced to interact, unable to escape like he usually did. He was so screwed.

The media room was buzzing with activity. Bright studio lights were set up along the far wall, cameras positioned at different angles, with a backdrop featuring the Sharks logo. A handful of team staff were already filtering through, prepping the players for their photos and coordinating the shoot schedule.

And in the center of it all?

June.

She was checking over the camera setup, giving quick instructions to the photographer, her clipboard tucked under one arm. Completely in her element. William watched from a safe distance, praying she wouldn't notice him. He had almost convinced himself that he could get through this without incident—until he made the mistake of glancing toward the schedule board.

PLAYER ORDER:     1.    Logan Couture     2.    Henry Thrun     3.    Mario Ferraro     4.    William Eklund

William Eklund.

FOURTH? NO TIME TO PREPARE. His stomach dropped. "William!"

His head snapped up just in time to see June waving him over. Oh.

Oh no.

She was smiling at him. Why was she smiling at him? Why did she have to be so effortlessly cool and put-together and—

"Come on," June said, gesturing toward the backdrop. "You're up next."

William's feet refused to move. He was frozen—fully paralyzed—as his brain scrambled for an escape plan that didn't exist. June tilted her head, confused. "You good?" He nodded way too fast.

"Y-yeah! Yes! Of course! I am—good. Very good." Oh my god. What was that? What kind of response was that? He sounded like a robot. June blinked, her brow furrowing slightly. "Okay... cool. Just step into the frame, and we'll get started."

William swallowed hard. This was a nightmare. He forced himself forward, his legs moving stiffly as he positioned himself in front of the camera. "Alright," June said, adjusting the lighting. "Just look straight ahead."

William tried. He really did. But the problem? June was standing right next to the camera. Which meant that every time he looked forward, he was also looking directly at her. And holy shit. That was not helping.

He could feel it happening. The dreaded blush. It started creeping up his neck, warming his face, and no matter how hard he tried to fight it, it just kept getting worse.

He was going to die.

Meanwhile, June—completely unaware of his suffering—was focused on her job. "Alright, now turn a little to your left," she instructed. William nodded too fast again. "Okay. Yes. Left. I can do that."

Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.

He adjusted his pose, feeling like an actual idiot. "Perfect," June said, tapping something on the screen. "Now just relax your shoulders a bit."

Relax? Relax?!

How was he supposed to relax when she was literally standing right there, looking at him, analyzing him, judging his every movement— "Eklund," June interrupted, giving him a look. "Breathe."

Oh.

Right.

Breathing.

That was a thing he should probably do.

He forced himself to inhale, feeling like a malfunctioning robot. After what felt like years, the photographer finally finished. William was seconds away from sprinting out of the room when June held up a hand. "Wait," she said. "One more thing."

He froze. "What?" She handed him a mic. "You need to record a quick intro for the season promo."

...Oh no.

Oh no.

Talking? In front of June?! This was worse. This was so much worse. But he had no choice. So he took the mic, cleared his throat, and—

"Hi. I mean—hello. I'm William Eklund. And you're watching—" He stuttered. "No. Wait. That's Disney Channel. That's not right."

OH MY GOD.

A beat of silence.

Then—

June snorted. Like, actually snorted.

"Dude," she said, trying (and failing) to hold back laughter. "Are you okay?"

William felt himself combusting. "I—uh—I don't know?"

And then, because his embarrassment reached an all-time high, he did the worst thing possible. He cursed in Swedish.

Loudly.

June immediately caught it. "That was Swedish," she said, grinning. "What did you just say?"

William's soul left his body. "Nothing!" he blurted. "It was nothing! I—uh—I should go." And before she could stop him, he turned and speed-walked out of the room. The second he escaped, he slumped against the nearest wall, running a hand through his hair.

That was a disaster.

An absolute disaster.

He could not handle this girl.

Not her smile. Not her teasing. Not the way she effortlessly made him look like an idiot. He was so doomed.

And the worst part? He still had to see her every single day. There was no way he was making it through the season in one piece.

⸻ June Johnson had watched NHL games before. She had grown up watching them on TV, sometimes in the stands, cheering alongside packed crowds. But standing on the ice, just feet away from the players, camera in hand, feeling the energy of the arena before puck drop?

This was different.

This was insane.

And, for the first time since starting this job, she fully grasped the magnitude of what she had walked into.

The arena was electric. The SAP was packed, fans decked out in teal and black, waving rally towels as the pre-game light show illuminated the ice. The music boomed through the speakers, matching the pulse of the anticipation hanging in the air. From ice level, it felt ten times louder.

June had her phone in one hand, her camera in the other, capturing clips for TikTok and Instagram. Players skated by, locked in, the sound of their blades carving through the ice mixing with the deep bass of the arena soundtrack. She turned, scanning the crowd through her lens, before shifting her focus back to the bench.

And that's when she saw them. Macklin and Will.

They were standing by the boards, both trying (and failing) to act like they weren't completely freaking out.

It was their first NHL game.

The real deal.

And June, despite all her focus on capturing the perfect shot, could see the nerves written all over them. She lowered her camera and walked over, nudging Will's shoulder. "You good?"

Will grinned way too fast. "Yeah! Totally! Super fine! Not nervous at all!" Macklin, standing beside him, snorted. "He's lying." Will shot him a look. "Dude, you're literally shaking."

"I am not."

"You so are."

June rolled her eyes. "Okay, both of you need to chill." Macklin exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I mean... it's a lot, right? The lights, the crowd, the pressure." Will nodded. "Kinda feels like I might throw up." Macklin grimaced. "Yeah, please don't do that."

June, watching them closely, softened. She had been so focused on the media side of things, she had almost forgotten that this was just as much a huge moment for them as it was for the fans.

Their first NHL game. Their first time skating out to their names being announced in front of thousands. Their first real taste of the league they had dreamed of playing in since they were kids.

And the fact that they got to do it together? That made it even more special.

June shifted, nudging Macklin first, then Will. "You guys know you belong here, right?"

Will blinked. "Huh?"

"I mean it," she said, looking between them. "You guys worked your asses off to get here. And yeah, it's scary, but you're not alone. You've got each other. And," she added with a smirk, "you've got me."

Macklin snorted. "Oh, lucky us." Will grinned. "Yeah, what would we do without you?" June crossed her arms. "Exactly. Now stop freaking out and just play. You'll be fine."

They didn't say anything for a moment, just exchanged a glance—one of those silent, best friend conversations where nothing needed to be said.

Then Macklin smirked. "Alright. Let's do this."

Will nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Before heading toward the ice, they both turned back at the same time and, without warning, pulled June into a quick hug. It was so fast she barely had time to react before they let go and skated off, leaving her standing there, completely caught off guard.

She blinked, watching them go. Then, with a small smile, she raised her camera and hit record.

This?

This was going to be a hell of a season.

⸻ June Johnson was not prepared for how emotional this game was going to make her. She had spent the past few weeks fully settling into her role with the Sharks, getting used to the chaos, the media responsibilities, and—most of all—her new dynamic with Macklin and Will. She knew how much this night meant to them. But standing here, watching it all unfold in real time, she realized she had drastically underestimated just how much it meant to her too.

The hug wasn't planned. It had been impulsive, a quick, wordless exchange that lasted no more than a few seconds before Macklin and Will skated off, leaving June stunned on the bench.

But apparently? Everyone noticed. Not even five minutes later, her phone buzzed with a notification.

@/SharksMedia: A special moment between our three "rookies" before puck drop. 🦈💙

She clicked the video, watching the moment play back in real-time. The clip wasn't even high quality—just a quick, shaky recording taken by a the other social media crew. But that almost made it better. The three of them huddled together, Will grinning, Macklin looking focused but excited, June laughing as she nudged them before they pulled her in for a fast, almost instinctive hug.

It was so small, so simple—but it had everyone melting. The replies were already flooded with comments.

@/freshprinceofchestnuthill02: STOP THIS IS TOO CUTE 😭 @/miami101: not the sharks making me emotional before the game even starts @/willmack7102: the way they just pulled her in like it was nothing 🥺

June groaned. "Oh my god." Then, it was time. The lights dimmed. The music swelled. The energy in the arena built to a fever pitch.

And then—

"Starting at center, making his NHL debut... MACKLIN CELEBRINI!" The crowd exploded.

June felt her chest tighten with pride as Macklin took the ice, his first NHL solo lap, carving through the rink with ease, the lights reflecting off his jersey.

Then came—

"Starting at forward, making his NHL debut... WILL SMITH!"

Another huge roar from the crowd. Will skated out, grinning ear to ear, pumping his fist as he took his lap. And June? She was so damn proud.

Her boys. Her stupid, chaotic, lovable little brothers were in the NHL.

She held up her phone, capturing every second. She wanted to remember this. She wanted them to remember this. The game itself was a blur of fast-paced action, adrenaline, and a ridiculous amount of yelling from the bench. But the moment that would live in her brain forever?

Macklin's first goal.

She had barely processed what happened.

One second, the puck was dropped. The next? Macklin had it. And before anyone could react—

HE SCORED.

On his first shot. The puck hit the back of the net, and the entire arena erupted. The goal horn blared. The bench exploded. Macklin threw his arms up in disbelief, eyes wide before he was immediately swarmed by his teammates.

June? June was losing her entire mind. She practically shoved her phone into the air, recording as she jumped up and down, screaming.

"Oh my god! OH MY GOD! MACKLIN!" She didn't even care if it was professional or not—she was screaming her lungs out. The guys on the bench were laughing at her, but she didn't care.

She could feel her eyes watering, could barely hold the camera steady, but she kept recording, capturing the pure, unfiltered joy on Macklin's face as he skated past the bench. When he spotted her?

He pointed.

Directly at her.

Like he knew she was freaking out. Like he knew this meant just as much to her as it did to him. She covered her mouth, grinning like an idiot, heart bursting with pride.

June barely remembered the final buzzer, too wrapped up in the chaos of celebration, but the moment the game ended, she was already on the move. She didn't care about decorum, didn't care about looking professional—she just sprinted down the tunnel, camera forgotten, shoving past staff and players until she finally found them.

"MACKLIN!"

Macklin barely had time to turn before June crashed into him, throwing her arms around him in the biggest hug imaginable. Will, laughing, barely had time to react before she grabbed him too.She held onto both of them way too tight, face buried in Macklin's shoulder, because she was so proud she didn't even have words.

"You guys," she choked out, voice muffled. "You guys are—ugh! I'm so proud of you!" Macklin laughed, squeezing her back. "June, you're literally crying." She pulled back just enough to wipe at her eyes, sniffling. "Shut up, I'm not."

Will smirked. "Oh, she totally is." Macklin nodded. "Big time." June groaned. "I hate you both." Will grinned. "Love you too."

Macklin slung an arm around her shoulder, still smiling. "Thanks for being here, Junie." June sniffed, rolling her eyes. "Where else would I be?"

Because honestly?

There was nowhere else she'd rather be.

⸻ William Eklund was already down bad. But after tonight?

It was getting worse.

William was still coming down from the high of their first win when he took a moment to breathe, slumping back against the bench as the final cheers from the crowd echoed through the arena. That's when he saw her. June.

She was still in the tunnel, grinning like an idiot, her arms wrapped around Macklin and Will like they had just won the Stanley Cup. The way she smothered them, pulling them in, eyes bright with pride—it was so genuine, so soft, so full of love that it actually made his chest ache.

And the worst part? The look on their faces.

Macklin and Will—who normally acted like two little menaces—completely melted.

Macklin let himself be squeezed half to death, grinning through it. Will actually laughed into her shoulder, nudging her playfully but not pulling away.

They just... let her love them.

And William? William realized he wanted that too.

He wanted her looking at him like that. He wanted her throwing her arms around him, laughing, telling him she was proud.

God, he was so screwed.

Later, in the locker room, Macklin leaned against his stall, arms crossed. "Okay," he said, tilting his head toward William. "We need to do something." Will, peeling off his tape, raised an eyebrow. "About what?" Macklin scoffed. "Are you serious?"

Will followed his gaze toward where William was sitting, fully staring at June from across the room, looking like a lovesick puppy. Will smirked. "Oh. That."

Macklin rolled his eyes. "Dude, it's getting embarrassing." William was barely trying to be subtle. June was just talking to Ferraro, completely oblivious, but William was staring at her, practically drooling.

"I mean, come on," Macklin continued, nudging Will. "Look at him. He's helpless." Will snorted. "I bet if she even looked in his direction right now, he'd combust."

Macklin smirked. "Wanna test that theory?" Will grinned. "Oh, absolutely."

"Okay, hear me out," Will said, leaning in. "We make him jealous." Macklin raised an eyebrow. "You think that'll work?" Will nodded. "Dude. He's already in the deep end. We just gotta make him feel like he's actually losing her."

Macklin hummed, considering. "And how do we do that?" Will grinned. "I'll flirt with her."

Macklin immediately started laughing. "Oh, that's evil."

Will shrugged. "Gotta do what we gotta do." Macklin smirked. "Alright, let's see if this works." _

The next morning, June was walking through the facility, minding her business, when Will suddenly appeared beside her.

"Good morning, gorgeous," he said smoothly.

June almost tripped. "...What." Will grinned. "Just appreciating beauty when I see it."

June narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Will said way too innocently. "Can't a guy just compliment his favorite person?"

Okay.

Weird.

But this was Will. So instead of overthinking it, June just rolled her eyes. "Right. Sure."

Will patted her shoulder. "Looking forward to spending the day with you, sweetheart."

And then he just... walked off.

June blinked.

What.

The.

Hell.

William witnessed the entire thing. And immediately malfunctioned. Will had barely touched her, had just thrown a few dumb compliments, and yet William felt actual, physical heat crawling up his neck.

Why was Will talking to her like that? Why was June smiling at him like it was normal? WHAT WAS HAPPENING?

He was so busy panicking that he didn't even realize Macklin had been watching him the whole time.

Macklin smirked. "Something wrong, Eky?" William blinked, still staring after June and Will. "Huh?"

Macklin grinned. "You look... distracted." William scowled. "Shut up."

Macklin snorted. Oh yeah. This was gonna be fun. If William Eklund thought things couldn't get worse, he was very, very wrong. Because Will Smith was escalating.

And William? William was losing his mind.

It started the second June walked into the practice facility. She had barely taken two steps before Will was right there, flashing his biggest, most ridiculous grin.

"Junie," he greeted smoothly. "You're glowing today."

June, already skeptical, blinked. "I... what?"

Will placed a hand over his heart. "It's true. You brighten this entire place."

Okay. What the hell was going on? June narrowed her eyes. "Alright. What do you want?" Will gasped, offended. "I'm just being nice!"

"You're being weird."

"I'm being appreciative." June sighed. "Of what?" Will smirked. "Of you, obviously." June stared at him for a solid five seconds.

Then?

She just shook her head and walked away.

Weird. But again—this was Will. So she didn't think much of it.

William, however? William was dying. He had been right there, watching the whole thing, and holy shit. Will was so obvious.

The way he tilted his head just right, the stupid smooth tone of his voice, the way he just kept smiling at her like she was the best thing in the world— William was going to explode.

And the worst part? June didn't even seem fazed. She just rolled her eyes and kept moving, like Will flirting with her was normal. Like she was used to it.

William hated that. Macklin, standing beside him, smirked. "You good, bud?" William gritted his teeth. "I'm fine."

Macklin snorted. "Right. Totally believe that." Macklin just patted his shoulder. "Whenever you're ready to, you know, actually do something about this, let us know."

William groaned, running a hand through his hair. Yeah. That wasn't happening anytime soon. If William thought Will was done for the day, he was so wrong. Because later, when they were in the gym, stretching before practice, Will decided to take things a step further.

June was standing by the benches, scrolling through her phone, completely minding her own business.

And Will? Will casually walked over, plucked her phone out of her hand, and sat beside her. "Hey," he said, grinning. "You look a little tense." June frowned. "What—"

And then? Will reached out and started massaging her shoulders.

William almost had a stroke. June froze. Then, slowly, painfully, turned her head to look at him.

"...What are you doing." Will, completely unbothered, kept massaging. "Just helping you relax."

June stared at him. "Dude."

"What?"

"This is weird."

Will sighed dramatically. "See? You never let yourself be taken care of." June pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh my god."

But she didn't immediately push him away, just let out a long, exhausted sigh before finally grabbing his wrists and prying his hands off.

"Okay. Enough." Will smirked. "You love me."

"I tolerate you." Will winked. "Close enough."

William Eklund needed help. William had been watching all of this from across the room, barely holding it together. He felt like his brain was on fire.

What was Will doing?! Why was June letting him?! WHY WAS THIS HAPPENING IN FRONT OF HIM?!

His jaw was so tight he thought his teeth might crack. He didn't even realize how tense he looked until Ferraro passed by and gave him a knowing look.

"Something wrong, Eky?" he asked, amused.

William, glaring at Will, muttered, "Jag ska döda honom." Ferraro snorted. "Don't need to speak Swedish to know what that means."

William groaned, dropping his head back against the bench. He was never going to survive this.

⸻June Johnson had way too much in her hands.

She had one camera bag slung over her shoulder, a stack of memory cards tucked in her arm, and an iced coffee balancing precariously in her grasp.

She was one wrong move away from disaster. And, of course, that's exactly what happened.

She had been power-walking down the hallway toward the media room, fully convinced she could make it without incident. And then?

She bumped into someone. Her elbow knocked against them just hard enough, and—

One of the memory cards slipped from her grip, tumbling toward the floor. She cursed under her breath and immediately went to grab it. What she didn't realize was that the person she had bumped into—William Eklund—had done the exact same thing.

And just like that—

Their hands collided.

It was barely anything.

Just a quick brush of fingertips, warm skin against warm skin, but it lingered for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary. June barely had time to process it before William yanked his hand back like he'd been electrocuted.

Her brow furrowed. "Woah." William, visibly flustered, refused to look at her. "Sorry."

June grabbed the memory card and straightened, eyeing him. "It's fine. You okay?"

William cleared his throat, still avoiding eye contact. "Yes. Fine. Totally fine."

June narrowed her eyes.

Weird.

So weird.

But before she could push it further, William mumbled another quick apology and walked away. She watched him go, shifting the equipment in her arms.

"...Alright."

She had no idea what just happened. But one thing was becoming very clear.

William Eklund was acting really, really weird around her. And for the first time, she actually wanted to figure out why.

⸻ William Eklund had a problem.

And that problem?

June Johnson.

Because somehow, without realizing it, he had spent the entire night keeping an eye on her. The night had started like any other team outing. The Sharks were in Canada, celebrating a win in one of the liveliest bars in the city. The place was packed, the music loud, drinks flowing, and the energy electric.

June had arrived with Macklin and Will, just like always, falling into her usual spot between them like they were an inseparable trio. And William? William shouldn't have cared. He should have been focused on his own night, drinking, laughing with the guys, letting loose after a good game.

Instead?

His gaze kept drifting. Not intentionally—at least, not at first. But every time she laughed at something, every time she leaned against Macklin's shoulder, every time she flashed that stupid, perfect smile, his brain short-circuited. And then, when Macklin and Will got distracted, when she was off talking to someone else, he found himself checking on her.

Was she okay? Was she having fun?

Who was she talking to?

He had no reason to be watching her this much. No reason at all. And yet, there he was.

Sitting at the table, barely hearing what Ferraro was saying, because he was too busy making sure June was good.

And that? That's how he noticed.

He had been watching her—not intentionally, just subconsciously, scanning the bar like always—when he saw it.

A guy.

Too close.

June tense.

William sat up, spine snapping straight. At first, it was just mild concern.

Maybe she knew him. Maybe she was fine.

Then—

The guy reached for her.

Something in William's chest snapped. Before he even thought about it—before he even processed what he was doing—he was moving. It was pure instinct.

One second, he was at the table. The next?

He was right there.

His hand landed on June's wrist, and in a flash, he pulled her behind him. The second he did it—the second he put himself between her and the guy—his brain switched off.

No nerves. No hesitation. No overthinking.

Just pure, protective instinct. And for the first time ever, he wasn't flustered around her.

Because right now? She needed him. And that? That was the only thing that mattered.

"Back off." His voice was low, sharp, and dangerously calm.

The guy, clearly drunk, scoffed. "Relax, man. We're just talking."

William didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't budge an inch.

"She's not interested," he said coolly. "Walk away."

The guy rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but after a moment, he made the right choice and left.

It wasn't until the guy was gone that William's brain started functioning again. And that's when he realized—

He still had his hand on June.

Oh.

Oh no.

The protective instinct that had taken over? Gone.

Now?

All that was left was panic.

He turned to check on her, his heartbeat still racing, and the moment their eyes met, it hit him all at once.

How close they were. How his hand was still gripping her wrist. How she was looking up at him with wide, unreadable eyes.

His brain completely melted.

Before he could let go, apologize, or run away forever, June suddenly smiled.

Soft.

Grateful.

And then?

She kissed his cheek.

William stopped breathing.

It was so fast—barely a second, just a light press of her lips to his skin—but it destroyed him.

The warmth. The softness. The casual, effortless way she did it—

William was dead.

Actually, physically deceased. And then? She just patted his chest, smiled like nothing happened, and said—

"Thanks, Eky." Then she walked back to the table like it was nothing. He stood there, completely frozen, hand still hovering in midair like an idiot.

His face was on fire. His brain was empty.

And then—

"Ohhh my god."

A voice.

A voice that sent pure fear down his spine.

William turned, and—

Macklin and Will. Watching the whole thing. And losing their minds.

Will was gasping for air. Macklin was halfway to the floor, wheezing. "Oh my god," Will repeated. "DID SHE JUST—"

"Oh, he's so gone," Macklin choked out. "Look at him. LOOK AT HIM."

William's ears were ringing.

He needed to leave.

Right now.

Immediately.

But he couldn't.

Because he was still standing there, still feeling the ghost of her lips on his cheek, still trying to process that June Johnson had just kissed him.

And worst of all?

He had no idea what it meant.

⸻ June Johnson had made one mistake tonight. And that mistake? Thinking she could get through the rest of the night without being interrogated.

By now, it was common knowledge around the team that Will, Macklin, and June always shared a hotel room.

It was ridiculous—they were literal NHL rookies, not kids at summer camp. But somehow, every single road trip, they managed to convince the team staff to let them bunk together.

Why? Because they couldn't function without each other. (Also because Will and Macklin were man-children who needed supervision, but June wouldn't admit that out loud.)

So when they got back to the hotel after the bar, she should have known what was coming.

The moment June walked in, Will threw himself onto the bed, dramatically sprawling out like he had just run a marathon. Macklin, meanwhile, plopped onto the couch, cracking open a water bottle.

And then—at the exact same time—they both turned to her. And grinned.

June froze. "What." Will wiggled his eyebrows. "Sooo..." Macklin smirked. "How's Eky?"

June's stomach dropped.

Oh, god.

They knew.

She forced herself to act casual, dropping her bag by the dresser. "Uh... fine?"

Will snorted. "That's all you're gonna say?"

June narrowed her eyes. "What are you two getting at?"

Macklin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Oh, I don't know," he said casually. "Maybe the fact that you kissed him."

June instantly turned red. "It wasn't a kiss."

Will gasped, clutching his chest. "IT WAS A KISS."

June groaned. "It was barely anything. It was on the cheek."

Macklin smirked. "Did your lips touch his skin?"

June hesitated. "...Yes?"

Will sat up straight. "DID HE TURN BRIGHT RED AFTER?"

She huffed. "Obviously."

Macklin grinned. "Then it counts."

June covered her face. "Oh my god, you guys are so annoying." Will kicked his feet like an excited child. "So, tell us everything. How was it? How did it feel? Was it soft? Did he smell good? Did he—"

"STOP," June groaned. "It wasn't a big deal."

Macklin scoffed. "Oh, it was a huge deal."

Will nodded aggressively. "Eky's probably still in shock. You fried his entire brain."

June sighed, throwing herself onto the bed. "You guys are making this so much bigger than it was."

Macklin raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you just go around kissing people on the cheek all the time?"

June glared. "I WAS THANKING HIM."

Will grinned. "Sure. Sure."

Macklin smirked. "You know he's in love with you, right?"

June froze. Her stomach did something weird. She sat up quickly. "He is not."

Macklin and Will exchanged a look. "Oh, she's in denial," Will whispered.

Macklin nodded. "Big time."

June crossed her arms. "He doesn't like me like that. He's just... shy."

Will snorted. "Junie. He literally worships the ground you walk on."

June's face heated up.

Macklin shrugged. "Honestly, I'm kinda impressed with you." She frowned. "What?"

Macklin smirked. "You broke him. I've never seen Eky that flustered before. He might actually be in a coma right now."

June groaned. "You guys are the worst."

Will flopped back onto the pillows, grinning. "Face it, Junie," he said. "You're in trouble."

And, for the first time, June was starting to think he might be right.

⸻ Tyler Toffoli had played in the NHL for a long time. He had seen a lot. He had been on championship teams, endured chaotic locker rooms, and witnessed some of the most ridiculous bets ever made between teammates.

But somehow?

Somehow, this might be the dumbest one yet.

They were on the road, heading into Buffalo for the next game on their trip. The usual post-practice bus chatter filled the air—guys talking about dinner plans, chirping each other about bad drills, and overall just keeping the mood light. Tyler was sitting near the middle, scrolling through his phone, when a voice from behind him made him pause.

"Alright," Will Smith said, loud enough for half the bus to hear. "Let's make things interesting."

Tyler sighed. It was never good when Will started sentences like that. Henry Thrun, sitting near the front, barely turned around. "This ought to be good."

Will grinned. "If Mack, Toff, and I all score against Buffalo, then Toff has to—" He turned dramatically. "Join our legendary sleepover."

Tyler blinked. "...Your what?"

Macklin Celebrini smirked. "Oh, he doesn't know." Mario Ferraro snorted. "Dude, they have a whole routine."

Tyler, confused, looked between them. "You guys still do sleepovers?"

Will grinned proudly. "Hell yeah, we do."

"I—" Tyler shook his head. "Why?"

June, sitting two rows ahead, barely glanced up from her phone. "They're codependent." Will ignored her. "It's tradition. And you can't really talk, you're a part of it."

Tyler rubbed his temples. "Okay, but why me?"

Macklin smirked. "Because we need to test your loyalty." Tyler scoffed. "And what are the chances all three of us actually score?"

Will shrugged. "Low."

Macklin nodded. "But if it happens, you're in."

Tyler rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Not gonna happen anyway."

It did, in fact, happen. Will scored in the first period, skating past the bench with a cocky grin, pointing at Tyler. Then Macklin tipped one in on the power play. And then, because the universe hated him, Tyler sniped one in the third.

The bench erupted.

But instead of normal goal celebrations, Tyler was met with immediate chirping. "Ohhh, Toff," Thrun teased. "You're in trouble now."

Will and Macklin bounced on the bench screaming "Sleepover! Sleepover!!" Tyler groaned. "Oh my god."

By the time they got back to the hotel, Tyler was praying everyone had forgotten.

They did not. Because the coaching staff got involved.

David Quinn, standing in the hallway post-game, grinned when he saw Tyler. "So, Toffoli," he smirked. "You ready for your sleepover?"

Tyler stared. "Coach, please." Mario Ferraro walked by, dying of laughter. "Gotta follow through, bud."

And just like that?

Tyler had no way out.

When Tyler finally showed up to their hotel room, dragging a stupid rollaway cot behind him, he had one thought.

What the hell did I just get myself into?

Because what he expected was a normal setup.

What he got was a full-fledged system.     •    Will and June were in one bed.     •    Macklin was in the other.     •    There was a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk on the bedside table.     •    And a stupid spot was set up at the foot of both beds for his cot.

Tyler blinked. "You guys are unreal."

Will beamed. "Welcome to the fam, Toff."

Macklin smirked. "Did you actually think we were joking?"

Tyler exhaled. "I was hoping."

June, casually scrolling on her phone, snorted. "Well, you're here now."

"Okay," Will said, pulling out his phone. "Photo time."

Tyler groaned. "Is this really necessary?"

Macklin grinned. "Oh, 100%."

They took the stupidest, most ridiculous photo possible—Tyler lying stiff on his cot, looking miserable, June and Will grinning like gremlins, and Macklin flashing a peace sign from his bed.

June shook her head. "This is absurd."

Will grinned. "It's tradition."

At first, Tyler thought, Okay. Fine. We'll go to sleep now. It was 3am, what else were you supposed to do.

Wrong.

Because Macklin and Will would. Not. Shut. Up.

They talked about everything. The game. The best goal celebrations. Some random inside joke that made zero sense.

June?

She just sat there on her phone, occasionally chiming in like this was completely normal. Tyler turned to her. "How are you just... ignoring this?"

June shrugged. "You get used to it."

Tyler sighed. "I don't think I will."

And then—

Mid-sentence, Will just stopped talking. Tyler frowned. "What the—"

He looked up—Will was just... asleep. Out. Like a light.

Macklin didn't even react.

June, without missing a beat, just sat up, pulled the covers over Will, then rolled over and fell asleep too.

Tyler stared. "What," he whispered. "The hell just happened?"

Macklin yawned. "It's just how it is."

Tyler frowned. "What do you mean?"

Macklin shrugged. "Will has a hard time sleeping alone. He started bunking with June because it helped. And somewhere along the way, I joined too."

Tyler stared.

Slowly, it started to make sense. It wasn't just some dumb rookie sleepover.

It was... routine. A weird, chaotic, ridiculously wholesome routine. And June? She wasn't just their friend. She was their person. Their family. Their everything.

The one who made everything easier, lighter, better.

Tyler shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

This was insane.

But also?

Kind of perfect.

Before turning over to sleep, Tyler pulled out his phone. He stared at the stupid photo they had taken earlier. Then, before he could overthink it, he posted it to his Instagram.

Caption: "Reporting for duty 🫡"

He tossed his phone on the nightstand and settled in.

Yeah.

This team?

This team was something special.

⸻ William Eklund had survived a lot in his career.

Gruelling practices. Hard-fought games. The relentless chirping of his teammates.

But this? This was worse than all of that combined. Because June Johnson was flirting with him.

And she was doing it on purpose.

William had been suffering in silence for months, convinced that June saw him as nothing more than a teammate, a coworker, a friend of a friend.

He had resigned himself to his quiet, torturous little crush. And then, out of nowhere, everything changed. It was like a switch flipped. Because suddenly, overnight, June started acting... different.

Not in a way anyone else would notice.

But he noticed.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. The way she started standing closer to him in conversations. The way her fingers would brush his wrist when she handed him something. The way she'd lean in, just slightly, when they were talking, like she was completely comfortable in his space.

And then came the comments. The too-casual, too-smooth compliments that made his entire brain malfunction.

"Looking good today, Eky," she had tossed out casually, winking as she walked past.

Or worse—after practice, when she'd toss him a water bottle and say, "Stay hydrated, pretty boy."

PRETTY BOY.

William had fully choked on his own spit.

Ferraro had had to thump him on the back to save him.

June?

She had just grinned and walked away. She was doing this on purpose. He was sure of it now. And it was killing him.

Unfortunately, William was not subtle.

The team picked up on it immediately. They watched as June slowly turned up the heat, adding more teasing, more touches, more deliberate moments that left William looking completely fried.

And the guys?

They were thriving off his suffering.

"Eky, man," Hertl grinned one day. "You look stressed."

"Yeah," Ferraro added. "Everything okay? You seem a little... distracted."

William, completely red, grumbled, "I'm fine."

The worst part?

June had heard the whole thing. And instead of saving him, she had just smirked. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

It finally reached critical levels one afternoon after practice. William had spent the entire day dodging her, avoiding eye contact, trying to survive.

And then—

She cornered him.

It was just the two of them in the media room, the door clicking shut behind them.

William's heart was already racing, just from being alone with her.

And then—

She leaned against the table, crossed her arms, and smirked.

"So," she said casually. "When are you going to ask me out on a date?"

He stopped breathing.

His brain shut down.

She just— She actually—

WHAT.

She was looking at him, waiting for an answer, and oh my god.

She knew.

She had known this whole time.

And now?

Now she was messing with him.

William opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

His face was so red, he could actually feel the heat in his skin.

June tilted her head, amused. "Eky?" she teased. "You good?"

No.

No, he was absolutely not good.

He was broken.

And June was loving it.

⸻ William Eklund had been barely holding himself together for weeks.

But this?

This was a new level of suffering. And it all started with a movie night ambush.

William had no idea what he was walking into. Will and Macklin had texted him earlier:

Will: Movie night at ours. Get here ASAP. Macklin: We got snacks.

William, thinking it was just the three of them, didn't hesitate. But when he walked in, he realized immediately—

He had been set up.

Because sitting on the couch, curled up in the coziest, most unfairly cute outfit imaginable, was June.

William was done for.

She wasn't in her usual media attire. She wasn't wearing her Sharks press pass, or running around with cameras, or giving him heart attacks by casually calling him "pretty boy."

No.

She was wearing sweats, an oversized Sharks hoodie (probably Will or Macklin's), huge glasses, and a messy bun.

And William?

William short-circuited on the spot.

She looked so soft. So effortless. So perfect. She looked so different from the sharp, witty, always-in-control June he was used to. And somehow, that made it so much worse.

She looked like she belonged here.

William could not stop staring.

"Eky," June greeted, smiling up at him. "Didn't know you were coming." William forgot how to speak.

Because her voice was so soft. And she was hugging a pillow to her chest. And she was wearing glasses.

And oh god.

He was in so much trouble. Will and Macklin, of course, noticed immediately. Will barely suppressed a grin. "Yeah, we... forgot to mention June was here."

Macklin smirked. "Hope that's cool."

William, still completely malfunctioning, just nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, totally. Cool. Fine."

Will snorted. "You sure, bud?"

William forced himself to sit down, taking the safest possible spot—the chair across from the couch, as far from June as possible.

Macklin and Will exchanged a look.

Oh, this was gonna be fun.

The next night, the team had a bonding event planned. Bowling. Which should have been normal, fun, low-stress. But of course, that was before June decided to completely ruin William's life.

"Alright," Couture called out. "Pair up, let's get the teams set."

Before William could even think about what was happening, June appeared right next to him. She looped her arm through his, looked up at him with a sweet, innocent smile, and said,

"Me and Eky are a team." William's brain immediately malfunctioned. The guys immediately noticed.

"Ohhh," Toff grinned. "Interesting choice."

Will, barely containing his excitement, leaned over to Macklin. "This is gonna be so good."

Macklin nodded. "Eky's gonna combust."

And honestly?

They weren't wrong.

It started small.

She made little touches—brushing her fingers against his when she grabbed the bowling ball, nudging him when she laughed.

Then, it got worse.

She fixed the collar of his hoodie, totally casual, completely unaware of how William's soul left his body.

And then, when he went up to take his turn—

She stood way too close behind him. She leaned in and whispered, "No pressure, but I expect a strike."

And William?

William bowled the worst shot of his life.

The ball went straight into the gutter.

And the team?

Lost their minds.

"Oh my god," Will howled, actually falling onto the seats.

"Eky," Mario teased. "What the hell was that?"

William had no words. He just turned, fully red, looking at June. She was smirking. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

And then, like she hadn't just completely ruined his night—

She patted his back and said, "You'll get 'em next time, pretty boy."

William wanted to scream.

At this point, William was barely hanging on. And Macklin and Will? Decided to help. Which, of course, made it so much worse.

They started pushing William toward June at random moments. They wingmanned him so hard it was embarrassing.

"Oh, you guys look good together," Macklin said loudly.

"Right?" Will grinned. "Power couple."

William wanted to die.

June?

June just laughed and played along.

"Oh, totally," she smirked. "We make a great team." William was one second away from actually combusting.

⸻William Eklund had reached his breaking point. For weeks, he had been tortured. June had been flirting relentlessly, finding every possible excuse to touch him, tease him, ruin his entire existence.

And worst of all? She knew exactly what she was doing.

Then, the other night, she had straight-up asked him when he was going to ask her out.

And William?

William had said nothing. He had just stood there buffering like a broken computer.

Pathetic.

Which is why, today, he was done. "What if I mess up?" William asked, pacing back and forth in the locker room.

Zetterlund leaned against his stall, arms crossed. "Eky, buddy, you've already messed up."

William groaned. "Okay, but—"

"No. No more 'but,'" Zetterlund cut in. "You're asking her out today."

William ran a hand through his hair. "I had a plan." Zetterlund raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" William nodded. "I was going to wait for the perfect moment."

Zetterlund sighed. "Dude, you had the perfect moment. She literally asked you when you were going to do it."

William groaned again, covering his face. "I KNOW."

Zetterlund clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me, okay? Just keep it simple. 'June, go out with me.' That's it."

William took a deep breath. He could do that.

Right?

The plan was simple. June did her "Question of the Day" segments every morning. All he had to do was wait until she finished, walk up, and ask her out.

He had it all rehearsed—every word planned out perfectly in his head.

But then...

He saw her.

She was standing in the hallway, smiling, laughing, looking unfairly beautiful, and—

His brain turned to static.

Before he even knew what was happening, he was walking toward her.

And then—

Words started falling out of his mouth.

"H—hey, um, I was wondering if, uh—well, you see—what I meant was—um—if you, like—wanted, um—go, uh, eat—dinner? With—me? Or something? At some point. Maybe. I don't know. No—I mean, I do know. I mean—I want to. Do you want to?"

Silence.

Absolute.

Painful.

Silence.

June just stared at him.

William wanted to jump into the nearest trash can.

Then—

She smiled.

And oh god.

She was blushing.

"Are you asking me out, Eky?" she asked, tilting her head. William, fully malfunctioning, just nodded.

June's smile grew.

"Then yes," she said softly.

William stopped breathing.

Then, as if she hadn't just completely ruined his life, she leaned in—

And pressed a kiss to his cheek.

But not just anywhere. Dangerously close to his lips.

William was dead.

June pulled away, grinning at his stunned expression. "Pick me up at seven?" she asked.

William, still not functioning as a human being, just nodded wordlessly. June gave him one last teasing look before walking away. Leaving William standing there, completely frozen.

That's when he felt two hands clap onto his shoulders. "Ohhh buddy," Macklin wheezed.

Will, barely holding it together, patted his back. "You okay, champ?"

William said nothing. He just stared into the void.

Macklin and Will looked at each other. Then—they burst out laughing. "Oh, this is too good," Will gasped.

Macklin shook his head. "She broke him."

William, still completely stunned, just whispered "What just happened?"

Will grinned. "You got a date, Eky." Macklin smirked. "And a near-kiss." Will waggled his eyebrows. "She's bold, huh?"

William was still buffering. Macklin clapped him on the back. "You're so screwed, dude."

And honestly?

He was.

⸻ William Eklund had never been this nervous in his entire life.

Not for his NHL debut. Not for a shootout attempt. Not even for post-game interviews where he had to answer questions in English instead of Swedish.

This?

This was worse than all of that combined.

Because tonight? He was taking June Johnson on a date.

When William pulled up to June's place, he felt like he was going to be sick. His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he could already feel the team's chirps echoing in his brain.

But then—

She stepped outside.

And William?

William almost forgot how to breathe.

She looked stunning. Her hair was in natural curls, bouncing with every step she took. Her eyes were bright, glowing, filled with excitement. And her smile?

Her smile was going to kill him.

She was wearing something simple—jeans, sneakers, a cozy sweater—but she had never looked prettier.

William actually felt his jaw drop.

"Oh," he blurted before he could stop himself.

June raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh?"

William, still short-circuiting, cleared his throat aggressively. "You look—uh—really, really, really—"

Stop saying 'really'—

"—really pretty."

June laughed, eyes crinkling. "Thanks, William."

Then—as if she hadn't just melted his entire brain—she stepped forward and hugged him.

And to make things so much worse for him?

She kissed his cheek.

Again.

William fully blacked out.

June pulled away, grinning. "Are we ready?" William, still struggling to recover, just nodded. "Yeah. Uh. Yep."

He quickly thrust the bouquet of daisies toward her. "These are for you."

June's face softened immediately. "Daisies?" she murmured. William rubbed the back of his neck. "They're your favorite, right?"

June blinked.

Then—to his complete horror—her eyes started glistening.

"I can't believe you remembered that," she whispered. William panicked. "Did I do something wrong?" June laughed, blinking away tears. "No, you idiot. You just did something really sweet."

William, already red, opened the car door for her. "You deserve sweet things."

June stared at him. William immediately felt like he said too much. But before he could freak out completely, June smiled, slipping into the car. Then—just as he was about to close the door—she reached out and grabbed his hand.

"William..." He froze.

June squeezed his fingers gently. "You don't have to be so nervous," she said softly. "I like you, okay? A lot. And I'm glad we're going on a date. Let's just focus on that."

William's chest tightened.

How was she so effortless?

How was she so easy to be around?

He swallowed, nodding. "Okay."

She smiled. "Good."

And just like that, he felt himself relax.

⸻ By the time they got to the arcade, William felt significantly less like he was about to throw up. And after about ten minutes, he was actually having fun.

Because June? June was competitive.

"I hope you're ready to lose, Eky," she said, cracking her knuckles as they approached the basketball hoops. William smirked. "I play hockey, not basketball. You should win this one." June grinned. "We'll see."

The timer started.

Balls flew.

And to William's surprise—

June was actually good.

Like, weirdly good.

"Okay, what the hell," he muttered, watching as she sunk shot after shot with perfect form. June laughed. "You didn't know I played in high school?"

"No!" William gawked. "You were actually an athlete?" June smirked. "What, did you just think I was some media nerd?"

William grinned. "Yes." June gasped, feigning offense. "You take that back."

William laughed.

And for the first time all night, he felt like himself.

⸻ The rest of the night was filled with games, teasing, and ridiculous bets. William beat her at air hockey. June destroyed him at Dance Dance Revolution. He got way too competitive during Mario Kart. She giggled every time he muttered Swedish curses under his breath when he lost.

And somewhere along the way?

June realized something.

She was so, so smitten.

Because William Eklund?

Was the absolute sweetest.

He was a gentleman—opening doors, making sure she was warm, letting her pick the games. He was hilarious—constantly chirping her, making her laugh until her stomach hurt. And most of all?

He was so, so easy to be around.

This wasn't just a date. This was fun. June didn't want it to end.

As they left the arcade, June nudged him. "So," she teased. "Was this so bad?"

William grinned. "No." She smiled. "Good."

They reached the car. And then—

Before William could open the door for her, June turned and tugged on his hoodie.

William froze.

"William?" she murmured.

His pulse skyrocketed. "Yeah?"

She looked up at him, eyes soft. "I had fun tonight," she said.

William swallowed. "Me too." June bit her lip. "We should do it again."

William's stomach flipped. "Yeah?" he asked. June smiled. "Yeah."

Then—because she clearly wasn't done torturing him—

She leaned in. And kissed his cheek.

Again.

But this time? It lasted just a second longer. And it was way too close to his lips.

William actually forgot how to breathe. By the time he snapped out of it, June was already grinning at him.

Oh, yeah.

He was so in trouble.

⸻William Eklund had never felt this happy in his entire life.

As he drove home from June's house, his fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his heart still racing, his mind replaying every second of the night.

The laughs. The way she looked at him. The way she kissed his cheek—so close, so soft, like she was waiting for him to do something.

And suddenly—

He couldn't take it anymore. His pulse skyrocketed as a wave of pure confidence rushed through him. Without even thinking, he slammed the brakes, threw the car into reverse, and sped back toward her place.

June had barely made it inside when the doorbell rang. She frowned.

Who the hell—

When she opened the door, she was met with William. Breathless. Wild-eyed. Looking at her like she was the only thing in the entire world.

"William?" she blinked, confused.

He didn't answer.

Didn't hesitate.

Didn't think.

He just moved.

One second, she was standing there, trying to process what was happening.

The next?

His hands were cupping her face, his body was stepping forward, and his lips were crashing into hers.

June was frozen for a second.

But then—

She melted.

The kiss.

It was desperate. All of tension unraveling in a single moment.

His hands were firm, holding her like he was afraid she'd disappear. His lips were soft, warm, urgent against hers. And his body—

God.

His body was pressed so close, she could feel his heartbeat racing as fast as hers. She barely had time to react before she was gripping his hoodie, pulling him closer, kissing him back with everything she had.

Because this?

This was what she had been waiting for. And the way William was kissing her? Like he had been dying to do this. Like he had been waiting just as long. It sent shivers down her spine.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless. June, still gripping his hoodie, stared up at him. William, face flushed, chest heaving, stared back.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them needed to. Because in that moment? Everything was finally clear.

William exhaled a laugh, still looking at her like she was unreal. "I, uh..." He swallowed. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

June's lips curled into a soft, dazed smile.

"Good," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about you either."

William closed his eyes, breathing her in.

Relief.

That's what this was. This was finally happening.

And neither of them were running from it anymore.