#//lmk if i'm missing tags pls!

[humming-pokemon-helpers]

📝 - A private record ( Ex. Criminal, Medical, etc… ) - @studysnorlax

C:\Users\Colre\Documents\PRecords\PreCoro\ST\Prof\VReport2010.pdf

This document is for only the Sages' eyes.

NAME: V (Note: No legal name or identification on record in any known region.)

ID: 00013

AGE: 12 years, as of 10/4/2009.

SEX: F (Note: as confirmed by genetic testing. Unclear whether expression differs due to other genetic anomalies: see PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.)

POSITION: Shadow Trainee, Rank 4 (Note: Under direct command of Shadow Triad.)

FIRST ENCOUNTERED: 12/15/2006, Nimbasa City, Entertainment District

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: When undisguised, stands at 5'3" head to toe, 5'7" including ears. Lightweight.

Subject bears pale skin, medium-length white hair with red ends (Note: regardless of where hair is cut, ends are red), and yellow eyes. Ears resemble those of an ancient Hisuian Zorua, and sit at top of head (Note: likely due to Hisuian Zorua genes. Incredibly sensitive to noise and touch). A tail exists at subject's tailbone, similar to aforementioned Hisuian Zorua (Note: Semi-corporeal. Tail end appears to be completely phasmatic). Legs resemble those of a Zoroark below the knees.

Several white, cut-shaped markings exist on subject's chin and ribcage (Note: these appear to be natural, rather than injury-related). Extensive burn scars also appear across subject's left forehead, back, and sides of stomach (Note: scars predate first encounter).

KNOWN POKÉMON: Subject has a singular partner: a non-battling male Hisuian Zorua they refer to as "W". "W" is highly protective of subject, assaulting anyone who threatens physical harm to them. (Note: W bears significant genetic similarities to subject, similar to that of a half-sibling or aunt/uncle.)

KNOWN ABILITIES: Subject bears notable ability to disguise themselves, similarly to a Zorua. Disguise can be broken with sustained physical or mental damage, or prolonged unconsciousness. This disguise does not change any physical properties of the subject, only the perception of others. (Note: this ability seems to also include voice mimicking. Requires further research.)

Subject appears able to understand and Pokémon, similar to N (ID: 00002). Unlike N, subject appears capable of conversing within Pokémon language.

Subject is capable of using moves typical of a Hisuian Zorua (Note: sourced from historical records. May be inaccurate). Displayed moves include Scratch, Hone Claws, Taunt, Knock Off, Spite, Agility, Thief, and an unknown move we have titled "Bitter Malice".

Statistics in battle appear to line up with a level 40 Zorua with a Hardy or similar neutral nature. Though unconfirmed, subject appears to bear high IVs in all skills other than speed.

Subject is skilled at weaponless self-defense & use of knives and other slashing weapons, and shows little hesitation in carrying out given tasks. Shows great skill in blending with crowds, finding and luring others without direct prompting, and eluding capture.

CURRENT DUTIES: Subject is regularly employed in disabling, dissuading, and discarding of potential threats to Plasma. Unlike others, subject seems amenable to this work, potentially due to a noted hatred of humanity. Subject also frequently accompanies Shadow Triad (IDs: 00010, 00011, 00012) on duties in which Ghetsis (ID: 00001) is not present.

EXTRA NOTES: Though subject is not accompanied on missions, subject is tracked via subcutaneous tracking chip implanted in right ear, and communicated with via in-ear earpiece.

It is imperative to keep subject physically separated from both Ghetsis and N for preservation of future goals. Subject must also be kept separate from Grunt #06049, due to subject recognition of 06049 from previous incident of arson (Note: see case file #45947).

If subject begins to show any signs of doubt in their cause, immediately contact their direct supervisors. Defection may prove disastrous.

[reunitedinterlude]

creativity is nothing without friendship (2024 // 2016)

[jecook]

Dabihawks Fanfic Recs #4

(In no particular order)

Fic Rec List #1 Fic Rec List #2 Fic Rec List #3 LoV Found Family List

it is what it is (until it isn't) Starship_Phoenix @starship--phoenix Complete Rating: T Words: 7,811 Chapters: 1/1 Summary: Dabi hates Hawks. Hawks hates Dabi. But then Hawks surprises Dabi with a trip to the mountains. With the captive audience he's always been waiting for, Dabi lets Hawks know just how he feels about the HPSC's new "Buddy Program;" society's new alternative to life-sentences. He also discovers just how he feels about Hawks.

Notes: Everyone loves an unreliable narrator, and Dabi has no clue what is going on. Soft story, bitter Dabi, and overall lovely winter read. Star weaves a tightly written narrative absolutely worth reading.

hit and run DrAphra @draphrawrites Incomplete Rating: T Words: 11,740 Chapters: 3/? Summary: A hit and run, of all things, is what changes the course of Dabi’s life.

Notes: I have reread this fic more times than I can count. I am an enjoyer of some serious hurt + comfort in the form of amateur first aid, so Dabi struck by a vehicle and left with only Hawks to care for him is the best meal in the world, to me. Aphra writes injuries and tending to them with precision that might make some squirm but truly brings a wrecked character to life. A must-read for lovers of sad, wet rat, injured blorbos. 

Kintsugi Stormysilverfox Complete Rating: T Words: 47,976 Chapters: 9/9 Summary: Dabi, person-roasting, hero-hating, A-ranked villain, is an omega.

It’s not necessarily a problem, only Hawks is fairly—hm, positively—certain that the pyro has no idea. It’s obvious what the HPSC would say. You’re an alpha Hawks, extort him, use a command on him. That was an unspoken order to honeytrap him then, since a command would only be as effective as Dabi’s affection was strong. Better not to tell them, better to pretend he hadn’t realised.

All his plans disintegrate around him when Dabi starts nesting in his apartment. Ironically enough, his biggest concern is dislodging him before he settles permanently, not exploiting him. He’s well aware that an omega will not give up their nest once it’s started, enemy apartment or no. And all without alerting Dabi to the fact that he’s even nesting at all, because Hawks has no desire to be cremated along with the other evidence once he realises.

Accidentally falling in love with him wasn’t supposed to be in the cards. Hawks fucking honeytrapped himself, like a moron. This was exactly what they taught you not to do.

Losing him to the Commission isn’t supposed to happen either.

Notes: Listen to me: are you nervous to read A/B/O? Open your mind to Safe For Work Omegaverse. This fic is soft, comforting, and honestly? I’m due for a reread. Like the title suggests, this fic is healing. A story to put you back together again, Kintsugi is a comfort read.

as we lay among the forsythias Goldtinted Incomplete Rating: M Words: 92,961 Chapters: 4/5 Summary:

“You used to love blabbering on and on. What happened to you, Keigo?” It’s the second time Touya has ever used his real name. He’s not as startled as he was the first time he heard it. The element of surprise is gone, but Hawks still feels something small and sharp stab at his chest. He wonders what Touya’s endgame is here. “I fought in a war.” He says simply, shrugging. Touya laughs again, louder this time, a cold, harsh sound that reverberates across the barrier and around the room. The guards behind Touya start to move forward, and Hawks can sense shuffling beyond the door behind him. “Well guess what, birdbrain? I did too.”

As the dust settles after the war, amidst social turmoil and societal reform, between three centimetres, seventy-eight square kilometres, and a dance of thirty odd steps, Hawks and Touya slowly recover. In the process, they find themselves falling in love again.

Notes: I totally thought this fic was complete until I started writing this rec. I’m shocked - I felt so fulfilled by this story that I just… imagined it must have ended. Well, still go read and support this fic and give the author lots of love for a wonderful post-canon that lives in my heart forever. Also, the narrative structure is so cleverly crafted and worth reading for that alone, not to mention the arc Dabi and Hawks take in this fic.

One more time (and maybe you’ll get it right this time) juurensha @juurensha Complete Rating: M Words: 19,677 Chapters: 3/3 Summary: “…sure,” Dabi says finally, “Do you think the answer is still with you joining the League of Villains?”

“Of course it is! Or else why do I keep rewinding to this moment here?” Hawks spits out, flinging his arms around. “But you know what? This time I need a break. I’m just going to go on vacation, and both you and the Hero Commission can go to hell, and maybe this time I’ll be able to tell what resets everything. Or who knows, this is what solves everything.”

Notes: More than just moving, this fic is a technical achievement. Not a spoiler–this is a time loop fic told from the POV of Dabi, despite Hawks being the one looping. I’m a fan of interesting story structure, and this one certainly delivers.

Minutes to Midnight Bacchant @transhawks Complete Rating: T Words: 51,645 Chapters: 7/7 Summary: "Something’s wrong," Hawks thinks again. "And this isn’t the right place to figure it out."

An unknown quirk that only shows itself as a mysterious tattoo on his arm sends Hawks careening into different worlds, all seemingly designed to make him ask himself what if he'd made different choices in his life. In each life, he learns a bit more about himself, and who he could have been, and gets closer to answering the biggest question of all: just who is Takami Keigo?

Or

Takami Keigo will travel to different dimensions, break out of simulations, challenge the established rules of quirk science, and bring a man back to life before going to therapy.

Notes: I tricked you! This one isn’t dabihawks! I’ve lured you in with sweet, sweet dabihawks only to show you this fantastic Hawks-centric fic. I know. Detestable. Well, if you’re reading this list, I assume you enjoy dissecting Hawks like a frog in a middle-school science class, and this fic does just that. Bacchant is a master of writing meta about our favorite murder bird and does so here through a collection of alternate lives he could’ve lived. The journey winds in ways you might not expect, and the ending those twists deliver will stick with you. For fans of Hawks, definitely give this fic a read.

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Lastly, after fives rec lists, a shameless self-plug: I'm Haslenoot on ao3, if you'd like to take a glance at my work, as well <3

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Don't forget to leave those kudos, comments, and subscribe where applicable! And if you feel so inspired, fic recs are a great way to engage with fandom, support your peers, and preserve fandom. While I love searching ao3, it can be a lot for people new to a big fandom! Many of readers enjoy rec lists, but often they can be hard to find or locked within Discord servers. Fic rec lists are findable through search engines. I've read fics off lists that are years old, which is, in a way, an archive of the fandom at that time. So make lists! Post them publicly! Hype up your friends!

And as always, happy reading!

[typewriting-robin]

The Way I See You

Victor/Robin MC (M x F)

cw: angst, nightmares, ptsd, negative self-esteem, age gap relationship (MC is 24, Victor is...god knows how old), daddy issues, nsfw (rated e), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex

Word count: 5476

note~ it is recommended but not required to read the OC/MC master list and scroll to the very bottom for Adaline, the Robin that corresponds to Victor.

Deep down inside, Adaline knew that her relationship with the leader of Crown was odd. He would catch her in one of her daydreaming spells. It would usually start with an attention grabber. A tap on the shoulder, or a rose would manifest in her lap.

“How about a magic trick to turn that frown upside down!”

Victor’s magic tricks varied. Sometimes they were card tricks. Other times he would pull impossible things from a hat. On one or two occasions he used a tablecloth and summoned a very angry Jude, who threatened to leave him bloody. 

Each time, the memories would evaporate, the way the sun would evaporate the ice surrounding a flower, breathing life and nurturing it.

Their relationship began to change rather quickly. One night she had a nightmare. It was her most recurring one. The fire that broke out at her childhood home when she was 11.

After waking up, she walked around the corridors of Crown manor in an effort to calm herself. That she was in no danger.

“Little Robin,” Victor’s voice cut through the darkness as he too wandered the halls.

“I know, I should be asleep,” she said before he could scold her.

A smile played on Victor’s lips. “I usually would say that but my Robin isn’t quite an ordinary lady. If she happens to be up, then the reason must be important.” There was a pause. “Did your typewriter get swallowed up by an alligator?”

Adaline laughed at his words and the sheet improbability of it, momentarily forgetting her nightmare. “No, of course not!”

“I’m sure you can tell me all about it while I have my boys deal with our pesky alligator. Come follow me,” he said, continuing the joke and beckoning her.

Adaline breathed in before following him. He pulled her into a room that was only just smaller than the ballroom. “Where are we?”

“Home in a home! My room, of course! Now my guest…do you desire for water, milk, tea, perhaps. Chamomile works wonders for sleep!”

“Chamomile will do.”

Minutes passed before he served her a cup of warm chamomile. “Thank you. I used to drink a lot of this when I was young. I was always a little anxious growing up, you could say.” With her finger, she twirled a lock of her honeyed blonde hair. She had inherited the color from her mother. In fact, she strongly resembled her mother rather than her father, who was tall and almost always draped in black. Ellis reminded her of him in terms of his style, but there was something about Victor that truly reminded her of him.

His chamomile tasted like the one her father made, with a dollop of honey for extra flavor.

Victor likely knew she was having nightmares but he didn’t question her nor probe her, only offering her his company and attention. And then one minute she was awake, the next, it was broad daylight and she had woken up in Victor’s bed alone, without a single nightmare.

That’s how it began.

It started off once every few days but lately her sojourns to Victor’s room were becoming more frequent. He was always so kind with her, so patient and never probing. The members of Crown didn’t seem to mind seeing her with her veil off, least of all Victor, who helped her meet Roger, who treated her burn scars with various salves and took notes on her progress.

“You have such lovely hair,” Victor said one night. The nightmares were now gone since she started sleeping with Victor. “Beautiful, beautiful hair. I can tell you take perfect care of it.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me knowing you have such radiant hair as well.”

Victor motioned her to sit down on a chair facing a mirror where he ran a hairbrush along her long, honey colored hair while humming softly. He moved the brush slowly as if fearing he’d pluck out one of her strands of hair even if by accident, which made her heart flush with warm feelings.

The fire had singed all of her hair, marking her as unrecognizable alongside her burn marks. She had been mistaken for a servant child and sent to an orphanage. Her hair didn’t grow, not immediately as she recovered, passing off as a boy. But when she was just shy of turning thirteen, a miracle happened: her locks had begun to take root.

Adaline would refuse to cut her hair if she could help it, as her hair served many purposes. It was, to her,  her one remaining beauty, inherited from her mother. It also hid her for when she didn’t wear the veil, falling down her waist. She didn’t trust her hair with just anyone, but Victor was so unfailingly kind to her.

She saw his violet eyes focusing on her hair, now applying some kind of lotion on it. “What is that?

“This? A lotion made to make your hair glow. The queen uses it every night before bed.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

Victor smiled. “Indeed. And don’t worry, there’s plenty to go around.” He rubbed the lotion all over her hair, which had a rich fragrance that she couldn’t pin down.

“Does my hair have split ends?” she asked. “I don’t get it cut very often. Sometimes when I say to just trim it, the salon instead makes a mess of it.”

“A little, yes. One of the maids here is an expert at trimming hair. Allow me to help you tomorrow with that and you’ll feel as good as new!” Victor drummed on her shoulders, indicating he was done. “Ready for bed?”

“Yes.” 

Victor’s bed was twice the size of the one in her room, giving them their own space to lay. He tucked her in. “Do you want to read a story? Or perhaps I’ll tell you one?”

Adaline yawned. “No, thank you. I’m sleepy tonight.”

“Very well. Pleasant dreams, my Little Robin.”

Adaline quickly drifted off to sleep, her world sinking into the comfortable inky black shades of sleep amidst acceptance and warmth. 

…Except, when Adaline woke up, the moon still shone brightly outside, indicating she had risen far too early. Victor was asleep next to her, appearing peaceful and years younger than the likely age he was, which dispelled the notions she had grown to have about him as her father figure. Adaline stared at his features, admiring his beauty.

She slipped out of bed to use the privy. Predictably, Victor had the best one in Crown Castle, with plumbing she wasn’t even used to before cleaning up and returning to bed.

Victor had turned in the interim, facing her side, but still asleep.

She could see his beauty mark as he slept, his lips upturned. It was on his left side of his face, on the very border of his lips. Adaline recalled how her father and stepmother would kiss her goodnight. Without thinking, she leaned over and kissed his beauty mark, her lips grazing over it.

Instantly, regret pulled at her, gnawing at her insides as heat rose in her lower back. What have I done?

Victor didn’t react, as none the wiser.

Her heart raced as she tucked herself into bed, praying to every known deity that Victor didn’t stir or that he had even felt that kiss. Why did I do that? He’s a man, not your father.

Yet he was so kind to her, so funny and gracious and patient with her.

She had a fitful sleep that night, unable to get over the regret she faced as new regrets kept swarming in. Did that count as a kiss?

She left the room and got ready for her observations the next morning before Victor could even wake. There was no way she could ever meet his gaze today.

She sat in the lounge, taking notes with her pen.

“You’re sighing,” a slinky voice said, coming from the depths.

Adaline didn’t even notice she was sighing. “Good morning, Alfons,” she said, ignoring him. She had attracted his interest upon moving to Castle Crown on account of her being difficult for him to enchant.

But Alfons plopped up next to her, sitting too uncomfortably close. “You don’t appear to have writer’s block. Is it matters of the mind? Or perhaps that of the heart? Hmm?”

“Be quiet,” she said, wanting to shoo him off. Since she covered her neck in its entirety. Alfons could only be seen as a nuisance to her. “I’m trying to think.”

“Might I help you? I enjoy thinking as well.” He grabbed a lock of her hair, fingers deftly running down. However, she quickly swatted him.

“Stop that!”

“It’s shinier than usual today. And softer. Reminds me of our leader’s hair.”

“Go touch his hair then.”

“Ah, but Victor isn’t a lady like yourself. A lady’s hair is much--”

Adaline grabbed her pen and moved to face Alfons, as if ready to stab him. “Not a word more or else I will draw on your face.” She hated being teased. Roger was enough already but she benefitted from him so she was able to grin and bear it. Alfons, on the other hand, had nothing of value to her.

Then she paused in realization now that she was close to him.

Being this close to him reminded her of last night, when she kissed Victor.

“You’re doing it again. Is that a sigh I’m about to hear once more?”

Adaline sighed-- in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll ask you since you’ve kissed people.”

“Kissing? Is my Robin--”

She rolled her eyes. “Nevermind. I can’t ask someone like you anything. It’ll be better if I ask Roger.”

Instantly, Alfons relented. “I’ll stop.”

“What is a kiss?” she asked. “Don’t laugh at me. Are kisses--specifically the ones on the lips-- supposed to be romantic or sexual? Like a stimulant?” Then she realized that Alfons was the perfect person to ask this. She gripped her pen, the edge of it near her lips. “Actually, say you use your…ability on someone, yes?”

“Yes? Keep going.”

“And you kiss someone, does that count as a kiss?”

“Of course it does. They believe me to be whatever they desire.”

“I see. And what if they’re in a state where they’re prone or asleep or perhaps don’t react. Does that count, even if the one being kissed is unaware?”

Alfons rubbed his chin with his gloved hand. “If a tree falls down and no one hears it, does it make a sound?” he asked her.

“It does since it fell, didn’t it? It doesn’t negate the fact that the tree fell in the first place.”

“But no one heard it,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “Therefore it did not happen. Not truly. That is why my ability does not count,” he paused for a beat, “to some, anyway. Are you going to write that in your little fairy tale book of secrets?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Now go away,” she said, properly shooing him off with her pen.

Thankfully, Victor wasn’t present for most of the day, so she was able to get her work done and meet with Roger for treatment and to help him with his research on her scars and the pain that would flare in her right shoulder.

When the time came to go to bed, Adaline opted to sleep in her room.

Her world turned black, then morphed into red. Not the familiar red of the fire that consumed her and snuffed out everything dear to her. She was back to that night when she met Crown, the man standing in his pool of blood. She remembered Victor was not there.

“Take the knife and slit your own throat,” William’s voice commanded and Adaline’s arm rose, knife in hand. She was powerless, out of control. Just like the man she found laying in a pool of his own blood that night.

“Please…no…don’t make me do this!” She was shaking but her arm was no longer hers in her final moments. All she could think of was how she’d never see Victor again. He’s never show her his magic tricks, his jokes, nor comfort her when she--

“Now!”

She rose from bed, touching her neck. The scars were still there but she was here. Alive. And healthier than before. “I can’t go to Victor. I’m too dependent on him,” she murmured. She thought of the kiss, the stupid kiss she initiated. He was her father figure and those were her feelings towards him.

Victor never came that night but he was at breakfast and had instantly called for her attention when she arrived in the room. “Little Robin! Over here! Yoo hoo!” Yes, he was a little embarrassing but it was endearing and a smile slipped out of her lips.

I can do this. “Good morning, Victor.”

“How did my Robin sleep?”

“Okay, I guess,” she said, lying.

Harrison, who was nearby, let out a hmph noise. 

“I have a mission for my Little Robin today. You shall accompany me to a ball tonight!” He let out a boisterous chuckle. “And you shall be my lovely, lovely date.”

“Huh?” She hadn’t been to a dance since she was a child but-- “date?”

“Of course! I asked for you, yes.”

“He wants to present ya to Queenie,” Jude said over his paper. “G’luck. You’ll need it with this clown.”

With a flick of Victor’s hand upwards, Jude’s newspaper tore into fourths, then eighths, then sixteenths.

 “I was reading that ya annoyin’ git!”

But Victor did not care one bit, running out the room and giggling. “Meet me in the courtyard!”

After she ate, Victor was indeed inside the gazebo. “Why did you want me here?” she asked. 

“Simple! Because we’re going to practice dancing together.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to do it in the ballroom?”

“Indeed, my precious and sound minded Robin, but we are going to an outdoors event, with fireworks!” He made motions with his hands and sound effects simulating fireworks, which made her laugh. After her laughter died down, he bowed to her, which made her heart race. “May I have this dance?”

Adaline was trained to dance a long time ago, before the fire. She was trained to dance at the same time she learned to walk. She had even taught her stepmother the basics. Doing this with Victor was like returning to a warm, cozy room with a blanket, coming to her like second nature. He was strong, his movements confident. Even when he danced, Victor’s personality seeped forth.

“You’re a natural. I don’t even have to recite the steps,” he said.

He never said anything bad or remotely negative to her, even when she made a mistake. “I enjoy moving with my body.” Regaining control of her body was a long and arduous process but now she was committed to keeping it that way. She danced back in her apartment sometimes. Running was primarily her way to keep her body in her control. She was swift, lithe. The picture of a Robin.

“Very graceful.”

“So are you.”

“I love a good dance, even with only the music of the outside playing.”

“Me too,” she said, meeting his face.

That was her mistake. She saw his beauty mark, the same one she kissed, and fumbled, losing her rhythm and stepping on his toe. “Ahh sorry! I lost control! It won’t happen again!”

But Victor was unphased. “It’s quite alright! We must keep practicing!”

***

It had turned out that the reason why Victor was out for most of yesterday was in preparation for the ball.He had gotten everything ready for them, including her dress, accessories, and makeup. Her dress was pink, which added an innocence to her look and Maria, her maid, had her hair in an elegant half updo. 

Victor’s words rung in her head. “I’d like to offer you a choice to make for tonight,” he said after he concluded dance practice. “I prepared makeup for you tonight, but you needn’t wear it, my dear Robin. The choice you make is up to you.”

Maria gestured to the makeup box. Everything was in here. Lipstick, rouge, powder, shadow, and makeup for her brows and lashes. But most critically, there was a liquid there that matched the color of her skin. This is what Victor meant.

She stared at the liquid for a spell, pondering if she ought to wear it. It would conceal every last one of her pink and white burn marks, mostly the ones on her face and neck. For just one night, she could live normally But…

“Use everything but this one, please.” If the partygoers couldn’t take her face, her injuries, then at least she had Victor on her side.

***

Victor gasped when he saw her. “You look positively radiant, my Little Robin! A perfect vision!” 

Adaline’s heart was already racing in adrenaline when Maria finished her makeup job. She knew Victor was waiting for her as she walked down the stairs. When he said those words, she felt like running as a reflex.

Her cheeks were completely red. “T-thank you.”

“I see you chose everything but the foundation. A wonderful choice you made!” He leaned and took her gloved hand, kissing her palm. A subtle heat bloomed from the core of her belly upwards, spreading, spreading until she felt entirely flushed.

He was her father figure, right? So why was she feeling this way? Like she wanted to both run away from and collide with him.

When they were in the carriage, she spoke up. “It’s because of you,” she began as she stared at the window, watching London’s scenery. She turned to face him. He was already gazing at her.

“What was?”

“I didn’t wear the…paint because I knew.” She met his jewel-like eyes. “I knew you’d be there with me every step of the way. You’re always on my side. Since we met.”

His hand moved over hers, causing her heart to race. “And I’ll always be.” 

His hand covered hers for the rest of the carriage ride.

The band played a lively tune when they arrived at the ball. It was an outdoors affair, with rose gardens and marble statues.

Victor wordlessly offered her his hand after he made his greetings and presented them to the Queen, a larger than life woman wearing all black. They danced slowly in time to the music, two bodies dancing as one.

“All eyes are on you,” he said.

Adaline wanted to dismiss it as something someone with a silver tongue would say. “You jest.”

“Look beyond you.”

She felt her cheeks redden, feeling glad yet again that she opted to wear rouge. “I think…” She looked beyond them at the onlookers. She recognized William and Elbert there, and not too beyond Elbert was Alfons, looking at them with a sly expression. It took every fiber of her being not to stick her tongue at him. But all were looking at them. “I think you’re right. Let’s keep dancing.”

It was just as they danced earlier in the courtyard, only in fancier dress. There was no one but her and Victor. She was used to his touch, his gaze, his warmth. They were all things precious to her. Things she thought she had lost, but now found.

Their palms touched and they swayed. Then they heard an “ahem”.

“William! My eldest and co-conspirator. How are you tonight?” Victor’s tone was not unlike a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

William’s arms were crossed, his gaze playful. “How long will you continue to hold our Robin hostage?” his ruby red eyes gazed from Victor, then hers.

“I am not held hostage!” she said, interrupting their conversation, but William ignored her.

“You’ve kept her caged to yourself all day and all night. Allow one of us to have her.”

Victor pouted, but acquiesced. “You may have her. For now. Do take care that our adorable hedonist does not lay an arm on her.”

William was also an adept dancer. “I understand why Victor won’t let you go. You’re an accomplished dancer. Few can keep up with him.”

“I have a lot of deficiencies but as a Robin, I have the best speed and stamina.”

“Nonsense,” William said. “You have a surplus of admirable traits. Otherwise our leader wouldn’t be at your side the way he is. If you left Crown, he would be heartbroken.”

Adaline didn’t say anything, not immediately. “I…” William knew Victor best and he was confirming that Victor cared just as much about her as he did. “They need me at the post office but…”

“No one loves his magic tricks more than you do.” He glanced at Victor, who was standing near some of the Queen’s family, pulling a turtle out of a chalice, which elicited horrified stares.

“Oh dear. Should we do damage control?” she asked.

“Victor must reap his consequences. This is the norm.”

She laughed. 

“You love him,” he said.

His words echoed in their mouth and Adaline was momentarily lost for words. “As a daughter would a father,” she said too quickly.

William smirked. “Is that what you believe?” His eyes narrowed.

“Y-yes,” she said, showing hesitation. She recalled the way she felt when she kissed the corner of his lips. How her heart, her body, her mind were consumed by it during and ever since then.

William let her go. “Then go to him and do what your heart tells you to do.You are in control of yourself, Robin.”

Victor was waiting for her, having given the turtle to a noble’s child, who at least found amusement in his antics. “My Little Robin. Did my eldest fill your head with his pretty little words?” His palm touched her. Despite them being gloved, she felt as if they were bare.

“He tried, but I can resist him.” Her words weren’t necessarily true, and she wondered if Victor could also detect her lie.

“A valiant effort!”

They danced until the fireworks commenced, which signaled the end of the event. Their hands found each other as they sky lit up in various shades of gunpowder. “Should we go with the other Crown members?” she asked him as the crowd began to disperse.

Victor shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too much of a risk to travel this late and with this many nobles afoot.” Adaline’s stomach dropped from his words. “But you shall be safe with me!”

“Do they want to kill us?” she asked as they departed to the carriage. 

Victor took out a pocket watch and began to time the carriage. “My darling Robin, everyone does. Now if this carriage goes over seven minutes, we must make our disappearing act.”

Luckily the carriage stopped just after six minutes. “Did we arrive?”

He looked out the window. “We did, and not a moment to spare! Now, shall we?”

They were not at Castle Crown, but at a hotel.

“I had the servants help with our booking. Will you be alright with this arrangement?”

She nodded. “I understand the travel risk so yes.”

Naturally, this was one of the most well regarded hotels in all of London, and for England, for that matter. It was opulent, with it having a royal theme. Adaline found a mirror, where she saw her makeup had begun to run and her hair had loosened.

“Are you feeling alright?” She saw Victor’s expression through the mirror. His eyebrows were knitted in concern. William’s words echoed through her ears. If you left Crown, he would be heartbroken.

She turned to him. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a lot of things on my mind.”

He sat on the bed, patting the side for her to sit next to him, which she did without a second thought. “Won’t you tell your dearest Victor what’s on your mind?”

Adaline hesitated. “Just tired,” she lied.

Victor’s hand moved to her chin, tilting it in his direction. His eyes were so gentle, yet carried a weight to them. Much like she did. “My Little Robin…you know it’s not good to lie.” So he did detect when she had lied to him.

Adaline decided to come clean. “William said if I left Crown, you’d be heartbroken.”

The words hung in the air, sucking all the energy out. “Well…he’s….” Victor began, faltering. “He’s right. I wouldn’t make heads or tails without my swift Robin. She’s become important to me. More than she’ll ever know.”

His beautiful jewel-like eyes softened. William said she loved him but her own heart had to tell her. She closed her eyes, listening to her heart. All she could hear was it drumming in her chest as the memory of kissing his lips flooded to her again. She had lost count of how many times she replayed the memory.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Victor’s soft gaze on her. So she moved forward and raised her body, her lips once again grazing his beauty mark.

Victor didn’t react, which brought Alfons’ words back to light. If a tree falls down and no one hears it, does it make a sound?”

But her lips very much did that and he was awake this time.

“Sorry, I won’t do it--”

“My Robin!” he said, moving forward, his lips meeting hers again. He was soft, caring, and warm. All traits she had thought of him since the start. His kisses taste like champagne, like a celebration. He broke the kiss, adding small pecks. “Do not apologize,” he said between kisses. “Ever. Kiss me anytime. Anywhere.”

Her arms encircled around his neck, deepening the kiss.

“Just as you did the other night,” he said, to which she stopped the kiss.

“Huh?” She pulled away from him, but he kept his grip tight on her.

“It left me in a state of shock when you did that! Whatever impulse did you go through to kiss me like that in my sleep?”

“Wait. You felt that?” she was mortified. Now, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and stay there. 

“Of course I did! To know my Robin loves me back…is that why you didn’t come the next day?”

“No! I mean…yes. I won’t ever--”

Victor interrupted her again. “Always kiss me. You have my heart, Robin.”

With that, she leaned in and kissed him again. Victor’s kisses were bountiful, each feeling like the sparks she saw in the sky that night, like magic. Pop. Pop. Pop.

He laid her down on the bed, her hands moving to run her fingers through his silky black hair. He was everything to her and so much more.

“My Robin,” he said.

“Call me by my name.”

“Adaline,” he said and he was rewarded with more kisses. 

She broke for air, but kept her grip on him. “My family would call me Della.”

“Della,” he said, his voice soft. Kiss. “A beautiful name.” He moved to kiss the scars on her neck. “Della…” Goosebumps littered her entire body. No one called her Della since the fire. Not until tonight. “Della, my Della.”

His words were like the wind to her, compelling her to take him. “Victor.” She deepened their kisses, sliding his coat down. She knew this was the man she wanted to spend her life with. Their relationship may have been odd, but this was what her heart wanted more than anything else in the world.

“Della,” he slid the dress off, leaving her in her corset. “I’m afraid I have to make you undergo another choice tonight. I’m sorry I keep doing this to you, my dear, but it is life altering.”

“I want to,” she said without hesitation. “It has to be you. Tonight. On the day when I’ve felt like…no. I’ve become Della again.” She unbuttoned his black undershirt, exposing him.

Victor nodded. “My Robin…er, Della--habit--a wise, confident decision on your part.” He pushed the strings of her corset, laying it beside them as he worked to free her from her chemise.

Adaline suddenly felt nervous, as if the reality of the situation was finally hitting her. 

Sensing this, Victor spoke up. “We can stop. No one will fault you for this.”

“I want to. I want you.”

“Then…” he kissed her scarred cheeks. “Allow me to teach you everything you need to know.” He placed her between the pillows after exposing her, his lips leaving no place unkissed. Every scar, everything white and pink and red and in between was blessed by Victor's lips. She thought of earlier as to why she didn't wear the foundation. She didn't need it. Not when Victor would always love her. 

“Let me see you too, Victor,” she said after he fully undressed her. 

He did as told and revealed himself to her. His hair appeared even more luxurious in this bare state. 

“You're gorgeous,” she whispered. 

Victor kissed her earlobe. “Would you like to learn a magic trick?” He asked, his voice lower than before.

“Please. I adore your magic tricks.”

Victor's hands tickled her abdomen before lowering, lowering between her legs. One finger slid inside her, her walls contracting. “It appears you're more than ready for my trick.” She kissed him deeply as he moved his finger inside her, circling around her nub inside her. But what surprised her was a second one being inserted at a different angle. 

“Victor!” She moaned. 

“Let me teach you, Della,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. He moved his fingers at two different angles. “Move your hips for me. Up and down. Set a nice rhythm. Like we're dancing again.” She did as she was told. “A perfect dancer. So pretty.” He said amidst her growing moans. “Keep going, my darling Della.” She moved in tandem with his fingers, her noises growing louder and louder.

“Sing for me, my Little Robin!” His fingers were now edging her decisively as she felt her entire body lighting up like the fireworks again but this time it wasn't a pop but rather something greater than that. She trembled, her body ringing out for him, moans echoing throughout the bedroom. 

He slowly withdrew his fingers from inside her. “You were so wonderful,” he said. “Would you like to stop here?”

She shook her head. “I want you to teach me everything, Victor. I'm certain.” 

He leaned in to kiss her, which she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. His now dried fingers were weaving through her hair as their bodies aligned. 

She breathed in and Victor cupped her cheek. “I've always desired you,” he said. “And when you were in my bed…” he slowly began to push inside her.

“Yes…” she said as she felt his intrusion. A sweet pressure as he entered her. She had been stretched out thanks to his fingers and she had never felt so complete, so full the way she did now with Victor. 

“I wanted this too. Now let's do one last dance for the night, shall we?”

Their hands found each other’s now stripped free from gloves as he made love to her, each and every one of their fingers intertwined so intimately, like the strings of a piano key, striking a nerve inside her as they moved as one. 

“My dance partner,” she whispered between their kisses and thrusts.

Their movements became more frenzied but their hands never unlocked as they kept going. “I'm afraid I'm about to…”

“Let go,” she said, her hands gripping tighter as she moved even more swiftly underneath him. She was the fastest of the Robins, after all. 

Victor's climax came and he spilled himself inside her, slowing down. Adaline gripped her hands tight, hoping to come again but she couldn't achieve it the way it had happened with his fingers. Victor pulled out of her swiftly and began working his fingers inside her again, this time pumping in and out of her, his fingertips grazing the sweet spot that made her react in increasingly louder moans and whimpers. “I want to make my Robin sing all night. It’s one of the most wonderful sounds I’ve ever heard.”

It only took a few moments for her body to respond the way he did, her body shaking as she cried out his name.

His arms went around her, spooning her from behind. “You're precious to me, Della. Thank you for choosing me. For wanting me back.”

Adaline smiled as she closed her eyes.

“And it seems my Della requires less teaching than I thought. She'll be an expert by the end of the week.”

She turned around to face him, kissing his beauty mark again, her leg wrapping around his. He gave her his widest, most sincere grin. “End of the week? How about the end of the night?”

[ningtual]

creator moots if i made a tracking tag would you guys use it .. 😳

[seobinghard]

₊‧ʚ・ gullible ⊹ ̟˖ ʚ

18+ MDNI

dom!yunho, dom!mingi x afab!sub!reader ⭑ tags: best friend!au ⭑ tw: corruption kink, size kink, dubcon, manipulation, subtle sub/dom space, somnophilia, praising, finger sucking, unprotected sex (pls use protection), creampie. lmk if i missed anything ⭑ summary: you should've known better.

best friends!yunho and mingi love having you sit in between them. whether you're on the subway, at the club or on the couch binge watching old hollywood movies. you just look so small and fragile with your cute glossy eyes and pouty lips, they can't help but feel the urge to protect and be close to you all the time. sometimes, they'll sneak their arms around your waist or slip their hands between your thighs, large palms gently caressing your bare skin, but that's only because the movie is scary and they want to help you relax. right?

when you've had one too many drinks at hongjoong's after parties, yunho would beckon you to come over and sit on his lap. "y/n, c'mere." you'll snuggle up to him like a little kitten and lay your legs on mingi's as he absentmindedly fiddles with the straps of your heels, hooded eyes flitting from your lips to the curve of your breasts. from afar, people are staring and whispering but you don't care. because yunho and mingi always tells you "they don't know us, baby."

and you believe them. you believe them completely because best friends always tell the truth, right?

yunho and mingi are always there to catch you when you fall.

flat tire? calling yunho. "i'm on my way, angel." bad day? facetiming mingi. "talk to me, pretty girl." every time there's a minor inconvenience in your life, you're running straight to your favourite boys because they just know how to handle anything and everything with such ease and responsibility. problems fixed. cheque signed. "it's okay, angel, we got this."

no one loves you like yunho and mingi.

they love you so much.

so when mingi tells you to wear his t-shirt and only your panties to bed, you happily nod "okay!" with no second thoughts because he only wants you to feel comfortable when they cuddle you to sleep, right? that must be it.

i mean, you do this all the time; cuddling. it's a way for them to feel closer to you; 'bond' with you, as they put it.

you love cuddling sessions with yunho and mingi, they're always so gentle with you. your petite frame a perfect fit between their broad chests, legs the perfect length for mingi to slide his knee in between as he spoons you. your skin is so soft he could tear you open like a present but he wouldn't do that. no, not to his sweet angel girl. so instead, he snakes his arm under your shirt and pulls you closer to his body so you can feel how much he loves you.

"mhm, so perfect for me," he whispers in your hair, fingers playing with the thin lace of your panties. you smell like fresh cut roses.

"you like it when we touch you, angel?" yunho asks calmly, tracing his finger along your jaw and down your neck. face propped on his elbow, he watches with a smile as you soften under his touch, nodding and purring at the affection you're receiving from both men.

"i like it, yuyu."

"you'll do anything for me and mingi, right, baby?"

"mhm, anything for yuyu and mingi," you slur, fatigue creeping up your spine.

you feel mingi smile against the nape of your neck.

something about the air feels tight and different tonight but you don't question it. you don't want to question it. especially when yunho stares at you with so much tenderness, it leaves your heart grasping for more. it's intoxicating; their scents—clean and musky like the faint trace of skin.

as the night unfolds, your eyes flutter shut as sleep takes over you.

you love best friends!yunho and mingi. nothing in the world comes even close to the euphoria of being the object of their adoration.

so when you wake up to soft pants in your ear and aching an pain between your legs, will you still love them?

"f-fuck."

mingi's groan snaps you out of your haze as you gradually slip back into your senses only to find your panties slid to the side and your best friend's sloppy wet dick inside your barely stretched-out cunt.

the sound of skin on skin cuts through the quiet of the room as mingi slams his hip into your ass at a pace so desperate, so rough it leaves you clawing at yunho's sweater with tears in your eyes. "y-yuyu? what's happening?"

yunho looks at you with eyes you've never seen on him before—chilling and dark with lust. he's quiet, eyes trailing the way your breasts bounce with every hard thrust you're forced to take from behind. soft moans slip past your lips, melding with his best friend's strained groans and the squelchy sound of your sobbing cunt.

"told you she likes it," mingi chuckles, voice crazed and raspy, one hand sliding up to grab at your neck. "yeah, you like that, baby? tell yunho you like being woken up to my dick inside you."

"i– ngnhh– i like–" your mewls are cut off when mingi slips two fingers between your folds, toying at your clit like it belongs to him. like you belong to him.

"oh, my angel," yunho coos, caressing your cheek before slipping his thumb inside your mouth. "you're so naughty."

you want to tell him 'no'—no, you didn't ask for this. but who are you to act like you're not enjoying it when you're a spluttering mess in your best friend's bed.

"shh, why're you crying?" his words are so sweet yet mockery drips from every syllable. "now, now, don't cry, my angel. be good for mingi."

yunho revels in the sight of your teary cheeks as your tongue laps around his thumb, drool leaking down your cheek and onto your pillow. god, you're fucking beautiful, he thinks, feeling his dick swell with every helpless whimper you make. he grabs your jaw and slips his tongue in your pretty little mouth, sucking at your bottom lip, and swallowing any confusion you're still harbouring, because you're not meant to have any.

the rules have been clear from the start; you belong to them. not their fault you're too gullible to see what's in front of you all this time.

"you said you'll do anything for us, remember?" yunho breaths.

"y-yes— nngh—" you whimper, feeling the knot tighten in your stomach. "mingi, i can't—"

you're close and mingi can sense it from the way you're clenching around him.

"fuck, cum for me, baby. that's it ... that's it."

it only takes you digging your nails in his hair and letting out a scream of his name for mingi to cum. he empties inside you and drops his head on the pillow, letting out a guttural groan against the back of your neck as you both come down from your high.

"such a good girl," yunho smiles, stroking your hair lovingly, "always so good for us."

his smile quickly fades.

"now turn around."

© seobinghard 2025. all rights reserved.

m.list

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were. 

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you. 

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive. 

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later. 

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost. 

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go. 

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question. 

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you. 

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet. 

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong. 

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours. 

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms. 

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close. 

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want. 

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel. 

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart. 

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you. 

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you. 

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure. 

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger. 

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes. 

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies. 

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch. 

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.  

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.  

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way. 

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak. 

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear. 

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you. 

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to. 

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him. 

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise. 

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important. 

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra. 

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him. 

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked. 

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands. 

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Not right now,” he agrees. 

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides. 

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown. 

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range. 

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff. 

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight. 

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles. 

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing. 

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs. 

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought. 

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning. 

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you. 

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together. 

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles. 

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage. 

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair. 

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess. 

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you. 

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you. 

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this? 

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself. 

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches. 

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply. 

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone. 

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck. 

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him. 

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff. 

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again. 

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod. 

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.  

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze. 

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction. 

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him. 

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions. 

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core. 

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry. 

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious. 

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. 

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him. 

Thankfully, he delivers. 

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl. 

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you. 

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds. 

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second. 

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh. 

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer. 

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit. 

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair. 

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light. 

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous. 

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning. 

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan. 

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it. 

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection. 

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core. 

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first. 

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

-

part three

[redwinelew]

partition | lewis hamilton

social media au. southeast asian + sugar baby!reader

summary you were supposed to be hidden. but when the secret is out, lewis cannot help but flaunt you for the rest of the world to see.

face claim zahara davis

song partition by beyoncé

warnings a little smutty, suggestive, reader is 23 so HUGE AGE GAP, reader is implied to be indonesian, pls lmk what i missed

author's note this was so fun to make! pls reblog if u enjoy this and comment what u think i should improve. as always requests are open!! <33

all pictures taken from instagram. credit to owners.

twitter!

instagram!

liked by treaclychild, realbarbarapalvin and 10,253 others

ynln back in home 🌴💚

view all 4,027 comments

user1 IS THAT LEWIS HAMILTON?!??!!!?!

user2 she's so brave for posting his pic lol

user3 no way she doesn't know about the rumor already 😭😭

user4 user3 i'm sorry what rumor?

user3 user4 she might be lewis hamilton's sugar baby

user4 user3 LEWIS HAMILTON?? AS IN THE F1 GUY????jesus christ

user3 user4 ikr lmfao

user5 user3 user4 why are yall acting like it's a bad thing lol

yesly pretty

ynln yesly ily

user6 GET THAT BAG (AND DICK) SIS 🗣️‼️

twitter!

messages!

instagram!

liked by jennaortega, florencepugh and 100,379 others

indegoblack me and my sayang (sweetheart) @.ynln

view all 26,739 comments

user1 SAYANG?!!!?!???!!?

user2 THE WAY HE STRAIGHT UP HARD LAUNCHING HER OMFG 😭😭

juser3 i thought she was just his sugar baby????

user4 user3 i don't think that's the dynamic they're having anymore i think these two are officially a romantic couple now 😭😭 so happy for them though

user5 is it just me or this post feels a little weird like the news was spread and now he's announcing that they're dating???? how do we know it's real or that he's just trying to cover everything up

user6 oh to be sir lewis hamilton's sugar baby then his actual gf...... god me and who

messages!

instagram!

liked by iamrebeccad, kennedyclairewalsh and 193,478 others

ynln we didn't even make it to the club — as beyoncé once said

tagged lewishamilton

view all 17,377 comments

user1 THE CAPTION OH MY GOD????

user2 oh she tagged his main.... it's official OFFICIAL

user3 she really won in life

user4 oh to be ynln

lewishamilton ripping that dress off of you was fun

ynln lewishamilton buy me more so you can do it again

user5 ynln lewishamilton IN PUBLIC??????

alex_albon woah

lilymhe alex_albon behave

user6 f1 wag really said hot girls only

user7 idk if i want to be him or her or be with them or want them to adopt me or

user8 user7 this is so real

taglist — @b0r3dtod3ath @actuallyazriel @isagrace22

[rosyblooom]

chicken shop date | cl16 smau

pairing: charles leclerc x fem youtuber!reader

summary: y/n hosts a popular youtube channel where she invites various celebrities to have a 'chicken shop date'. in this upcoming episode, she welcomes famous formula 1 driver, charles leclerc.

a/n: all my love to amelia, i love her vids🫶🫶 also, pls lmk what u think :)

creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading! thank uu!! :)

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▯▯▯▯▯▯▯▯

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯

21st of March, 2024

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: red 4 🏎️🏎️🏎️ ]

[ caption: chicken shop date out on saturday!!! xx ]

[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: aussie aussie aussie 🦘 ]

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbfusername, landonorris and 137,923 others

yourusername i love you australia xx

view all 4,831 comments

yourbfusername third pic 👀👀

yourusername 🤫 username that's suspicious...

username ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE????

username flying across the globe for a chicken shop date??? oh this is serious guys

username nah she's just rich lol username i'll be sad if they're just playing in our faces

username y/n becoming a ferrari girl was NOT on my bingo cards😀

charles_leclerc ❤️

yourusername 🥰🥰 username so the plot thickens username love u charlie🫶🫶

username y/n don't play with me rn. are you dating charles or nah

(liked by author)

username girl it's been 84 years we are tired of the games😭 username 'liked by author' WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

landonorris here for mclaren i'm hoping

yourusername i- sure! username oooh it's the lying for me miss

22nd of March, 2024

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username, and 8,239 others

f1gossipofficial After arriving in Australia last night and posting a picture hugging who fans believe to be Charles Leclerc, Y/N L/N made her F1 debut this morning during the practice sessions.

She and Charles appeared to be very close, only further fuelling the dating rumours that have been circulating the internet for the past month. As of yet, however, neither of the pair has confirmed nor denied the ongoing rumours.

view all 273 comments

username bruh how hard is a "we're dating/we're not dating."😑

username lmao are you ok?? they don't owe us anything

username Y/N as an f1 wag???? OH HOW I USED TO PRAY FOR THESE TIMES

username aw she's so pretty

username a chicken shop date episode with charles is dropping tmrw so i think it's all pretend

username oh yeahhhh I almost forgot username but travelling all across the world for that seems a little excessive? she's literally already super successful ygm username pretending for over 4 weeks is nasty work😫

username did anyone see the way he looks at her though????😍

username RIGHT?? THEYRE SO CUTE OMG😭

23rd of March, 2024

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: this is more like it 😌 ]

[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]

charles_leclerc posted to his story!

[ caption: Lucky charm secured ❤️ ]

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbfusername, landonorris and 277,004 others

yourusername chicken shop date with @charles_leclerc OUT NOW!! hope it's an uncomfortable watch xx

view all 4,992 comments

username 10/10 awkwardness, I had to pause multiple times. truly hated it, keep posting more!

yourusername thank u thank u. will do🫡 username loool Y/N ilysm

username Y/N ARE YALL DATING OR NAH??? IM SO CONFUSED

username u and me both😭😭 username idc if it's delusional i'm just gonna pretend they are🥰🥰 username ignorance is bliss babe✨😌

yourbfusername wait you guys are lowkey cute🧐

yourusername *highkey username OMG IS THIS A CONFIRMATION??? WE WONNNN username just fell to my knees in tesco pls don't be joking Y/N😭

charles_leclerc Avez-vous déjà pratiqué votre français ? (have you even been practising your french?)

yourusername oui oui 😌 username she's actually got it lmaoo who would've thought💀

username LMAO Y/N not "what are we?" why are you like this💀💀

username that's so real of her tbh

2:35 ───ㅇ───────── 7:55

The YouTube video begins with a series of clips showing Y/N and Charles laughing, with intermittent shots of Y/N looking directly at the screen. The familiar tune of Y/N's 'chicken shop date' videos begins as stop-motion hearts flutter across the screen, transitioning smoothly to a scene featuring two dolls seated in a miniature chicken shop date setting, seamlessly leading into the main content of the video.

"Charles Leclerc," Y/N warmly greets, resting her elbows on the table. "Welcome to our date."

Charles responds with a smile, settling back in his seat and gesturing around. "Y/N Y/LN, thank you. I'm very happy to be on our first date... here... with all these cameras," he remarks jokingly.

Y/N narrows her eyes slightly, briefly glancing around before refocusing on Charles with a hum. "I'm not sure what you're implying. This location is a solid 10 out of 10," she says, gesturing to their surroundings. "Besides, do you see the chicken?" she adds, plucking a single fry from her meal box and waving it in the air, awaiting his response.

"You mean the fry?" Charles chuckles, pointing. "That's not chicken."

Y/N takes a bite of the fry, pausing to swallow before clearing her throat. "I'm aware," she says with a dramatic tilt of her head and a tight-lipped smile. "I just grabbed it because I fancied a fry." 

"But anyway," she continues, circling back to the initial question, "do... you... see... the... chicken?" Sensing his hesitation, she places her hands firmly on the table. "Look at me. It's a simple yes or no, Charles."

"Well, actually, it's yes or yes," she corrects herself with two affirmative nods, before redirecting her attention back to him.

Charles responds with a smile, though his expression betrays his confusion, evident in the different angles of his raised eyebrows. "Yes, I see it, Y/N."

"And do you taste it?" Y/N asks slowly.

"I haven't yet..."

"So, what are you waiting for?" she claps her hands together, motioning towards the untouched box of food in front of him. "Don't be shy now."

Charles chuckles as he sits up in his chair and leans forward, rummaging through the food before pulling out a chicken nugget. As he dips the piece in some ketchup, his eyes meet Y/N's once more, her wide-eyed nod urging him on.

"Go on."

"Okay, okay," he says, taking a bite. "Mmm," he nods, almost as if someone were holding a gun to his head, compelling him to do so.

"Oh," Y/N purses her lips and shakes her head, "I don't like it when people make noises while eating."

"Uh," Charles swallows and chuckles, "sorry?"

Y/N shrugs. "It's okay, I forgive you."

"Anyway," she inhales deeply, "what do you think? That's some good chicken, right?"

"Yeah, actually, it is really good," Charles nods as he speaks.

Suddenly, the video cuts to a staff member in chicken shop attire standing behind the counter, wearing a smile while staring at the camera, unmoving.

Then, the video returns to Charles and Y/N.

As Charles takes another bite of his chicken nugget, Y/N casually asks, "Do you think our children will like chicken?"

Coughing sounds interrupt as Charles drops his chicken into the box, knocking his fist against his chest until the sound clears. His voice croaks as he speaks, his brows furrowing, "Our children? We're talking about children already?"

Y/N's composure cracks slightly as she chuckles, clearly amused by his reaction, and observes him reaching for a glass of water, taking large gulps. However, she quickly regains control, shrugging nonchalantly before continuing, "Well, yeah. I don't know about you, but I date for marriage—I want a little family of my own someday. Don't you?"

Charles rubs his eyebrows and places the glass back on the table. "Yes, I do want to have a family one day. But this feels like it's moving very fast, don't you think?"

Y/N shakes her head. "Not at all. To be honest, I want one boy and one girl. What about you?"

At Y/N's continued forwardness, Charles releases a laugh, visibly bewildered, before scratching at his beard in deep thought. Propping up his elbows on the table, he finally responds, "I think I want a boy."

"—And a girl," Y/N interjects, smiling expectantly.

Charles blurts out a laugh, clearly taken aback, before nodding. "Yeah, a girl too. I don't really mind."

"Great, so we're on the same page then."

The video cuts off again, this time to the entrance of the chicken shop, slowly panning into the empty and bright interior with multiple tables and chairs. The camera stops on the large menu, featuring pictures of chicken and fries, lingering for a few moments before cutting back to Charles and Y/N. 

However, this time Y/N is holding a piece of paper in front of her.

"So, I hear you're French?" Y/N glances up at Charles, noticing the grimace on his face. Quickly realising her mistake, she corrects herself, "Oh, hold on, no wait, don't kill me please. You speak French, but you're from Monaco—you don't claim France at all."

Charles laughs and nods in agreement. "Correct. I am Monegasque. Those are separate countries, yes."

Y/N purses her lips, her eyes flickering from side to side. "I know, I literally just said that." Clicking her tongue, she exhales a long breath and continues, "Anyway, what a coincidence. I'm actually trying to learn French."

Something flashes in Charles' eyes as he suddenly leans forward in his chair, his expression filled with keen interest. "Oh wow, tu l'es ? Comment vas-tu ?" (translation: "Oh wow, you are? How are you?")

Y/N freezes, her mouth parted slightly in a half-smile. For a moment, she just stares, clearly startled, before scratching the back of her neck and humming deep in thought. "Oh, okay, straight into the deep end, huh?" she chuckles and then blurts out, "Oui, oui?"

Charles tosses his head back, laughing, while Y/N folds her hands together, waiting expressionless for his laughter to subside. When he finally regains his composure, his eyes back on Y/N, she says, "Great, thanks."

"I'm sorry," Charles waves his hand in the air, "I just thought you'd know the basics already. My mistake."

Y/N narrows her gaze at him for a few moments before taking a deep breath. "Well, that's what I've got you here for." Clearing her throat, she tilts her gaze down at the paper and asks, "Let's start easy, shall we? I'm going to give you a few sentences in French, and you translate them back to me in English."

Charles furrows his brows. "Wouldn't it make more sense the other way around?"

"What can I say, I'm special," she shrugs, "I actually learn better this way."

"Ah, of course you are."

"Alright. Je t'aime."

"I love you," says Charles.

Y/N places her hand across her chest. "Aw, Charles. Dropping the L-bomb already, are we?"

Charles drags his teeth across his lower lip while shaking his head. "Next one, please."

“Veux-tu m'épouser?" (translation: "Will you marry me?")

Charles tilts his head sideways, an amused expression spreading across his face. “Seriously?”

Y/N clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t quite sound right. I think you might need to brush up on your French, Charles, because I’m pretty sure ‘Veux-tu m'épouser’ does not mean ‘seriously.’”

Exhaling a long breath, she rotates in her seat and straightens up. “Don’t worry though, I’ll give you another chance.”

Charles rolls his eyes playfully before releasing a whistle. Rubbing his hands together, he begins, “Will you marry me. That’s what it mea—”

“Charles!” Y/N's jaw drops as she interrupts him. “Well, I’m a hot commodity, you know? But I want to know, how would our marriage work? I mean, how long are you planning on racing, anyway?”

Charles smiles, slumping into his seat as he reaches for a fry and tosses it into his mouth. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I love racing and I want to be a world champion, so we’ll just have to see how long that takes.”

“You want to be a world champion, yet you extended your contract with Ferrari?” Y/N's brows furrow inquisitively. “That’s an interesting choice.”

A couple of chuckles escape Charles as he runs his hand up and down his neck, his gaze fixed on the half-empty box of food before him. After a moment's pause, he replies with a casual shrug, “They're like family to me. And honestly, when I see myself winning, it’s always with the Ferrari team by my side.”

“Fair enough,” Y/N exhales, her eyes widening as she claps her hands together. “I suppose I'll have to stock up on red outfits.”

Noticing Charles’ puzzled expression, Y/N theatrically rolls her eyes before explaining, “For our next date, silly. I’ll be your lucky charm, and then you can finally start winning and have a real shot at the World Championship.”

“Wow, how nice of you, Y/N,” Charles responds with a lazy smile. “Merci.”

“Oooh,” Y/N points at him, nodding in satisfaction, “I know that one. You’re welcome…”

“…Boyfriend?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. “What—what are we?”

He ponders for a moment, swaying slightly from side to side, then relents, “Okay, sure… girlfriend.”

The video cuts to the outro, displaying various polaroids of Y/N flashing by, accompanied by a text reading, ‘If you enjoyed the video, please don’t forget to like and subscribe for more! xx’.

24th of March, 2024

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: early day😴😴 ]

[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username and 4,723 others

f1gossipofficial Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc have been spotted entering the Paddock together. Numerous sources have also confirmed seeing them exchange a few kisses.

As always, wishing the drivers all the best for today's race!

view all 269 comments

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f1

liked by yourusername, carlossaiz55, username and 324,076 others

f1 Carlando back on the podium together! Congrats to Carlos Sainz, Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc on their wins! Huge accomplishments!

#F1 #Formula1 #AusGP

view all 248 comments

username CARLANDO LETS GOOOOOO

username aw they all deserved it I'm so happy for them😭🫶

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username seeing Y/N become an actual f1 girl🤧 username please treat charles well for us🥹

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yourusername

liked by yourbfusername, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 263,014 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername as the french say 'soo la voo' or whatever xxx

view all 5902 comments

charles_leclerc close enough🤣

yourusername je t'aime ❤️ username OMGG??????? AHHH KICKING MY FEET🥰 username wow we've literally gone full circle🤧 username he fell first she fell harder tease🥹

username NOOOO CHARLIE NOT HER :(

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username is- is this what it feels like to win?😭❤️❤️

7:35 ───────────ㅇ─ 7:55

hope u enjoyed! thoughts are appreciated! <3

[mischievousmoony]

Omg I love ur James fics. You think you could do one where reader finally feels comfortable getting drunk while going out with their group because she knows James is there to take care of her. Ur drunk reader x James interactions are too cute. I feel like I always have a hard time letting go cause I’m afraid I’ll need to take care of my other friends haha. Love your work!

thank u love! i have fun writing them, i just know james would be so caring! ps thank you for being patient ik this request came in a while ago

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any pls)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"But what if Sirius tries to get a new tattoo again?" you ask, twisting back and forth with a steady squeak, squeak, squeak of your barstool.

James clasps his hand on your shoulder, turning you one last time to face him. "Remus is watching him."

"What if Marlene tries to go on another one of her adventures?"

Marlene has a knack for getting herself into precarious situations when she gets drunk, which she likes to call her “little adventures.” Usually, this means going home with a stranger, whether it’s for a hookup or to steal their lightbulbs because they looked at her wrong.

"Lily’s got her.”

"What if I do something stupid?" you ask, now swinging your legs. The nerves eating away at you just won’t let you sit still.

James puts his other hand on your knee, soothing you with a gentle squeeze. "I'm watching you," he says. After thinking it over for a moment, he adds, “And I don't think you'll do anything stupid. Even if you do, I'll do something more stupid so that nobody notices."

This earns him a giggle from you, and he’s happy to see you smiling. He picks up your glass, which is now covered in beads of water, plenty of time having passed for condensation to run its course. He dries what he can with a napkin because he knows you hate when the droplets land in your lap.

You once asked him why it happened, even though you knew the answer. He simply told you it was science.

“Science is stupid,” you had said, eyes fixating on several small spots of water soaking into your jeans.

Now, James wraps your glasses with napkins. He holds out your drink, a black napkin enveloped around it, as he asks, “You want to do this, right?”

You peek into the glass and watch the dwindling ice cubes swirl around in a vodka cran; a drink that James had called “beginner friendly.”

“Yeah,” you answer shyly.

James frowns. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over. A part of you wants to forget it, but another part of you knows you’d be disappointed in yourself for chickening out again.

You wrap your hand around the glass, cringing at the squish of the soggy napkin beneath your fingertips. You don’t know what’s worse: this feeling or the water dripping all over you. But James’ attempts to help make you feel warm inside, so you don’t complain.

“No, I still want to do this.”

“Then I’m here for you. Promise.” James gives your knee another squeeze.

You cast a look toward your friends. For years, you've nominated yourself as the designated driver. Or you've claimed to have early morning obligations. You've always felt better knowing someone sober was around to deliver plenty of water and carb-rich snacks to your incapacitated friends.

That was your excuse, anyway. Not that it isn't one of your concerns, but truthfully, something about drinking makes you feel uneasy. You always knew your friends were safe because you've been there, ready to hold back anyone's hair or stray them away from bad decisions. If you drank too, how could you be sure your friends would have someone to depend on? How could you be sure you would have someone to depend on?

Then, you started dating James, and you found a level of trust you never knew was possible. You know you can depend on him for anything.

When you admitted to him why you never drink when you go out, he swore up and down that he would be there for you.

Remembering his promise summons a wave of courage. You shoot James a nervous smile, and take your first sip, scrunching your nose as it burns your tongue.

"This is kind of gross."

James barks a laugh, "We can try to find something you'd like better next round. That is, if you decide to have another."

Feeling brave, you do have another. That's when you discovered something called the Cosmic Lemon Fizz; a drink that sparkles with edible glitter and manages to be blue, green, and yellow all at once. You laughed when you saw it, not knowing how in for it you were.

"Jamie!" you exclaim after taking a sip of your third Cosmic Lemon Fizz. "This tastes like happy feels!" you gasp as if the thought had just occurred to you, despite this being the fourth time you tell him.

"I bet it does!" James cheers. His eyes wrinkle in the corners as he beams at you.

"You should try one!" you declare, and immediately try to flag over the bartender.

James smoothly takes your hand, stopping you as he says, "No can do. Made a promise to a pretty girl that I wouldn't have a drop tonight."

You whip your head around. "Who!?" you ask, eyes wide.

"Who do you think, pretty girl," he says, poking you in the side.

Giggles escape you and you swat his hand away. He doesn't go far, lifting his arm to brush some stray hairs out of your face. His hand lingers on the side of your face, soothing the pad of his thumb against your cheek.

You lean into his touch, gazing up at him with an affectionate glaze in your eyes; a look that gives him butterflies.

"Wowww," you say dreamily. "You're handsome."

James feels his heart flip in his chest. "Thank you, love," he says, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Hey," Sirius says, appearing out of nowhere as he lazily throws an arm over your shoulders, "How's it going over here?"

While you're distracted with Sirius, James waves over the bartender and replaces your drink with water. The next time you reach for your glass, you hesitate.

"Where's my cosmo magic fizzy thingy?" you ask, an eyebrow raised as you glance at James.

"You must've finished it," he shrugs, acting clueless.

"That's like the oldest trick in the book. You replaced it with water and now you're trying to be sneaky!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," James feigns innocence.

You giggle, bringing the straw to your lips. "I knew you'd take care of me. I love you," you say, happily sipping your water.

James feels another eye-wrinkling smile break out on his face. "I love you too, pretty girl."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[dollscotton]

10:11 • ғᴇ̀ᴄᴏɴᴅᴇʀ (NSFW)

♡ assistant!Hongjoong x witch!afab!reader

♡ academia, witch, smut

♡ WC • 3845

♡ Warnings!! (tags) • Sex potion, witchcraft, swearing, kissing, praise, spit/drool, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, handjob, titjob, blowjob, manhandling, fingering, creampie, breeding, lactation, multiple positions, anal, knotting, semi-public sex, mutation, vampirism, reader wears long nails, reader has fangs, reader is implied to be shorter than Hongjoong. (pls lmk if I missed anything.)

♡ A/N: this isn't proofread, will do sometime in the future. féconder means fertilizer/pollinate in French if I'm not mistaken. Any French speakers feel free to correct me.

♡ ᴛᴀɢʟ��sᴛ

ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀ ═══ೋ❀❀ೋೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀

 The rain pattered on the window rather heavily. You and your assistant, Hongjoong were in your school’s greenhouse, while you finished up on your latest potions and he read to you.

   “It is the eve of St. George’s Day. Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?” Hongjoong recited, pacing slowly back and forth behind you. The novel ‘Dracula’ is in his right hand while his left hand rests behind his back. His glasses perched right on his sharp pointed nose as he tilted his head to the side continuing. “She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I th-”

   “Yes come here, business,” You interrupted right then, beckoning him over. Hongjoong placed a ribbon in between the pages before closing the ages-old novel. He walked over to you until you were side by side, and he looked down at you.

   “Yes, darling?” He raised a brow a bit, watching as you poured a yellowish iridescent liquid into a rather small goblet. “What's this?”

   You handed him the goblet, looking up into his eyes, “it’s supposed to suppress arousal.” You inform, turning back to the pot where you grabbed a bottle to store the rest in.

   “It’s supposed to make me not horny?” He clarifies, looking intently at the potion. You nod in response, “Exactly.”

   “How long is it supposed to take effect?” Hongjoong takes a smell of it, it smells of Gingko Biloba, Red Ginseng, and Yohimbe. There’s also a dollop of a poppy scent in there too. “I’m not sure, we'll just have to see.” You reply, watching the rain pour outside.

   Hongjoong takes a swig, swallowing the potion that felt rather thick in his throat. The taste itself was bitter but sweet. He could get past it.

   “It tastes like…like-” “Anti-horniness?” You turn your head a bit to notice a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Very much.” He answers, smacking his teeth. “What purpose was this for by the way?”

   You paused, thinking about it. Truth be told you actually weren’t sure why, but you could list reasons as to why. “Hmm…” You trailed off. “Maybe for uh… people who struggle to keep it in their pants? I don’t know. People who struggle with sex addiction?” Hongjoong nodded slowly, “I guess that could make sense.”

   There was a comfortable silence passing for a few minutes before Hongjoong felt his slacks tightening. Was this supposed to happen? He believed not, the potion is an arousal suppressant. He opted to keep it to himself, figuring it would go away quickly and that this was just a part of the process.

   However, more minutes passed, and Hongjoong’s breath grew heavy as his slacks suddenly felt twice as small. He let go of his novel and looked down at the floor. “...Y/n?”

   “Yeah?” You kept your eyes on your own spell book, skimming through pages without actually reading them. Your back was faced towards him, bent over the counter. His eyes fell on your ass which your long, tight godet skirt shaped perfectly. His breath hitched, his skin growing hot.

   “I… I don’t think this is a suppressant, Y/n.” He states. His cock is visibly hard, fighting against his slacks.

   “What do you mean, Joong? I-” You turn around to see the view. His cheeks flushed red, visibly sweaty under the layers he wore. His hands gripped the counter, and he gulped. “R-Read that spell again.” He stutters.

   You grab the spellbook, turning back to the page where you followed the steps to create the suppressant. Looking at the header you creased your brows. “Joong, it says aféconder, that’s a suppressant.” You say, feeling bubbling in your stomach. Hongjoong felt his stomach tighten himself, he shook his head. “No… it can’t. Let me see the book.”

   He leaned over and grabbed the book, skimming over the page with a deep sigh. “... oh Y/n…” he closes his eyes, placing the book back down. “Y/n, this is féconder. The ‘a’ was a stain.” Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose, turning away from you.

   You felt your mind slap you right across the face, and you rested your head in your hands, propped on your elbows. Your hands ran across your face, and through your hair, as you let out a soft but low groan. “Sorry, Joong,” you whisper, and you feel his hand rake up your back. “There has to be a way to reverse it, right?” he mutters, his voice huskier than usual. 

   “There’s no spells in this book that could reverse it, I believe.” You reply, flipping through the spellbook. “But… but we could try something else…?” You suggest, turning your head to look at him.

   “Like…?” He trailed off, brows creased. You turn to fully face him, and hesitantly you reach for his trousers. “We could do this the natural way…” you whisper, not wanting to make it awkward.

   Despite Hongjoong’s obvious distress, he looks at you with an unsure look. “We’re in public, Y/n,” he says, looking around the greenhouse.

   “But no one’s around, right?” You also look around, the rain had gotten heavier, and the doors to the greenhouse were closed. It was just you, Hongjoong, and the plants, along with the dim lights inside.

   Hongjoong gulped, feeling the knot in his stomach twist more before he nearly whined. “Please help me…”

   You didn’t waste time, he looked miserable. Your hands fumbled with the button and zipper of his trousers, then unclipped his suspenders. Your long, black French almond nails raked against his stomach, making him tense up. Hongjoong looked down at you as you cupped his painfully hard bulge, his eyes then fluttering shut as you rubbed him with your palm to at least soothe him.

   He let out a sensitive whimper. His hand then grabbed your jaw, pulling you up as he swooned down for a kiss, encasing your lips in his. At that moment your hand squeezed at the wet bulge in his underwear, feeling the beads of precum against your palm.

   With your finger hooked onto the waistband of his black underwear, and with one swift motion, you tugged it down to his midthighs. Pulling away from the kiss you cupped your hand under his lips, making him spit all his excess drool into it before taking his leaking, wet cock into said hand.

   Hongjoong whimpered again softly. Hair was already sticking to his sweaty forehead due to how strong the aphrodisiac was. He felt like he could cum untouched, but at the same time, it felt as if everything was holding itself in. The tip was drooling and deep red as if irritated, and as you started to pump his cock into your hand you could feel the veins on his shaft pulsating. You looked up at him, his pretty pink spit-covered lips slightly agape. He breathed like he was making noises, but only small broken whines and deep breaths left him. Certain strokes elicited no noises at all, his chest tightening and making him freeze, breath caught in his throat.

   Your eyes visibly dilated at the sight. He’s so pretty it hurts. You’ve taken note of your long-time friend, who was also your assistant’s beauty before, but you opted to keep the relationship platonic. This… is platonic, right? Having his pretty cock in your hand as he silently begs you to take care of the problem you caused him with your stupid mistake. Your honest but dumb mistake. A part of you was lowkey grateful about your unconsciousness though, because then you wouldn’t be here so close to him, seeing the drool dribble down his chin and eyebrows creasing in pain and pleasure. You could feel heat pool at your core, slick dripping onto your panties.

   “You alright, pretty?” You cooed softly, your free hand cupping his shoulder, your thumb rubbing against the fabric of his dress shirt. He let out a subtle nod, whining like a bitch in heat. The noise made your clit throb, your hole clenching around nothing. “You’re so pretty, Joongie..”

   You picked up the pace, running your thumbpad over his slit every time your hand got to his cockhead. You made sure to let your long nails brush against his full, purple-hued balls, and occasionally you would swoop down to massage them for a few seconds before coming back up and pumping his shaft again. Hongjoong sucked in a breath, biting the inside of his cheek. Your hand that was once on his shoulder went to the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

   Hongjoong slid his tongue into your mouth immediately. You could taste the bitterness from the potion when your tongue slid on his, forcing it into his mouth and running over the roof. Both moaned into each other’s mouths, and you grabbed his jaw, pulling back to spit in his mouth. Hongjoong swallowed it without hesitation, his hands trembling as his grip on the counter tightened.

   Your grip on his cock tightened. Your fingers felt every vein pulsate under your touch, and the shaft twitched. Your thighs shut against each other, and the hot slick gushed out your hole onto your panties, making a wet spot. You could feel a weighed pool, the aphrodisiac now in your system since you kissed Hongjoong.

   Eventually, you let off and unbuttoned your black Lolita-styled dress. Crossing your arms your fingers pinched at the shoulders of your sleeves, pulling them down until your breasts were exposed. Leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw you grazed your fangs down his neck, undoing his button-up and taking it off him. Hongjoong’s skin was covered in sweat, red and hot to the touch. His nipples erect under the caress of your hands, the buds feeling hard enough to hurt without any stimulation.

   Lifting your skirt you kneeled before him, making him lean against the counter for a better angle. You pulled off the rest of the top of your dress, bunching it to your waist as you unclipped your bra as well. Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked down at you.

   “W-What are you doing now?” he stuttered, watching you drool onto your tits. You look up at him and his lost expression, shaking your head. “Helping you, Joongie,” you mutter, rubbing your saliva over the valley of your mounds. Your hands running over your nipples make you moan, your cheeks heating to a pink flush. Hongjoong stutters out incoherent babbles, and his words are caught in his throat when your tits encase his cock between them, your mouth sealing around the cockhead. Hongjoong’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape, drool falling and directly hitting your tits. 

   You start to move, tongue swirling and gliding up and down his slit and tip, the salty, pearly beads of precum leaking into your tastebuds. Your hands hold firmly onto the sides of your boobs, guiding them up and down his shaft as your mouth goes to work on the head. Hongjoong’s shaky hands move from the counter, one raking up to move his wet hair and the other firmly seated on your head.

   “Y/n,” He moans out prettily, petting your hair. Your eyes flutter shut, focused on making him feel good while also trying to relieve him of the rather painful aphrodisiac. You moan softly around his cock, the vibrations of your hum making his balls tighten. Hongjoong whines out a pathetic “mm’ sorry-” before grabbing your head with both hands and shoving his cock down your throat. Your tits drop out of your hands and you choke a bit, taking a deep breath through your nose as he thrusts rather soppily, creaking out little ‘sorry’s and ‘please’s back to back. His voice cracked a couple of times, whimpering out your name. You grab onto his thighs, nails digging into the sides of them.

   Your chokes and gags on his cock echo throughout the greenhouse. The rather humid heat inside makes you yourself sweat as your hair sticks to your forehead and cheeks. You swallow around his cock, his head rubbing against the wet, plush oropharynx. 

   “G- I- gonna- gonna cum Y/n. m’ so close m’ gonna c-cum,” he whines, his thighs tensing up. He unintentionally pulls on your hair, making you whine out as tears sting your eyes. Your teeth nearly bite down on his cock, the slight graze making him stutter his hips.

   ‘F-Fuck do it again-” he whimpers. You suck and graze your teeth again over the veins of his cock, and without warning he spills into your mouth. You pull off, choking. His hands move to his cock, jerking desperately as his cum paints your face and hair. You squirm on your heels, your heels digging into your ass. You open your eyes and watch the last of his cum leak out, and you felt your nipples swell at the sight. Like before Hongjoong now grabbed your jaw, spitting whatever aphrodisiac he had left into your mouth. You swallowed, it was fair game.

   Getting up onto your now aching feet you let your dress pool at them, leaving you in your lace white panties. Both of you breathed heavily, your head against his chest as your arms ran down his biceps. His hands cupped your ass, pulling down your panties as he pressed his knee against your cunt.

   You whimpered, his knee rubbed against your clit before he lifted you up, sitting you down on the metal counter. The heat made you wince, sucking your teeth. 

   Hongjoong gave you no time to adjust, he hooked his arms under your knees and dragged you to the edge, opening your legs up for him. “H-have t’ fuck you,” he muttered, his cock still rock hard despite cumming seconds ago. 

   Your eyes met, irises fully taken up with dilated pupils as if you two were cats. You whimpered, and he spit on his hand, gathering your juices as he slid his hand up and down your slit. He entered a ringed finger into you, the cold silver eliciting a hiss from you. Pulling out he entered a second finger, both his ring and middle fingers curling up inside you. His fingers weren’t all that long but it felt so good. He managed to find spots inside your spongey walls that you hadn’t touched without having to go deep inside you, he was skillful in this as much as he was skillful with his large grand piano that he composed his music with.

   Hongjoong’s cock rubbed against the metal counter, the hot metal sending shivers down his spine as he felt his cock swell.

   When you had enough, you pulled off his fingers, grabbing his waist and pulling him to you. Hongjoong got the memo, slapping his wet cock onto your clit a few times before slowly inserting himself into your hole, making both of you let out loud gasps and whines. Hongjoong was average, about five and a half inches, but you could swear that when he went inside you you felt him grow to at least seven, or eight. His newfound girth stretched you out deliciously, and his manicured, painted nails raked against your thighs. Tears pricked at both your and Hongjoong’s eyes. He sniffled, his nose turning a shade of pink.

   “Fuck,” You whispered, laying against the counter. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting a couple of stray tears fall. Your gummy walls fluttered around him a few times before he started to move. His hands went to your swollen tits, fondling and massaging them. His palms were sweaty and covered in cum, fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples turning the hard buds to an irritated shade of red. 

   With every languid thrust, he hit deep inside you, balls touching the rim of your puckered asshole. The squelching noise of him moving inside you along with the soft claps of his balls against your ass made you feel lightheaded. Your assistant sniffled again above you, hand moving down to your waist as he started picking up the pace of his thrusts.

   Your hands moved to your fluid-covered face, covering your teary eyes as his cockhead hit into your cervix snuggly. You sniffled, opening your eyes to look up at the man above you, rutting into your pussy like a pup in heat.

   “You feel so good,” He sniffles, swallowing down whatever pathetic sound he may produce next. His head is thrown back, then falls forward as a babbling whine leaves his lips. “Wan m-make you feel g-good Y/n.”

   He sucks on the two fingers he used inside you before and rubs them on the rim of your ass before gently pushing inside. You gasp, moaning out loudly as he starts to move them rather languidly compared to his thrusts. The feeling of his cock hitting the right spots inside you quickly and his fingers in your ass going slow made you micro-orgasm, clenching around him as the genuine knot started to build in your tummy. “J-Joong-” You whimpered, before fluttering around his cock as you came, legs tensed up and wrapped around his waist. “Fuck it feels so good,” you sniffle again.

   Pulling his cock and fingers out you quickly sat up, shoving Hongjoong to a nearby discarded chair. You stumble off the counter, holding his shoulders as you open his legs, and hike a leg over his lap. Grabbing his face you stamp your lips against his once more, sinking down onto his cock. Despite just being connected the stretch makes both of you moan into each other's mouths, Hongjoong letting out a guttural, broken cry.

   You started to hump your clit against his pelvis, but that soon turned into bouncing heavily on his cock. The sound of wet slapping skin resonated loudly throughout the greenhouse, along with a now sobbing Hongjoong along with you. The rain attempting to drown out your sounds was almost futile, your head spinning and ears ringing. You didn’t want to stop, and neither did he. He pulled away from the kiss and grabbed your hips, guiding you up and down his shaft at his own pace.

   “Joong!” you cry out, holding the top rail with tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. His hands were firm on your hips, fingers tight enough you were sure it would cause bruising tomorrow. Your ass collided with his thighs harshly, causing red marks to appear on your plush and flushed ass cheeks.

   Lifting you and slightly hurling you over his shoulder, Hongjoong held your thighs, keeping your legs apart as he began pistoning up into you. You moaned at the sensation of being filled, physically feeling your womb protrude out from your stomach.

   Sitting you back down on him you started to bounce again, rather sloppily this time. Your lips formed in a pout as you whined, hums being produced every time his cockhead met your cum filled cervix.

   “D-Don’ wan’ stop,” you murmured, lips pressed against Hongjoong’s sweaty forehead in a sloppy forehead kiss. His black dilated eyes were glued onto you, tears also running down his cheeks. 

   You began grinding in circles, smothering his cock inside you. You both moaned out sweetly, fangs digging into your bottom lip drawing blood. Hongjoong reached upward, grasping your bottom lip with his teeth as he suckled on the blood. His tongue ran over your bottom lip before pulling away, looking up into your eyes. You started to bounce again, feeling your second orgasm impending.

   “all over y-your cock, Joongie,” you babble, your swollen lips blabbering nonsense as you clamp down onto him, the heavy bounces building up again.

   “Cum, please cum,” you whine, holding your orgasm back. “W-wan it all inside me.”

   Hongjoong started thrusting up again, syncing up in time with your bounces. It didn’t take much, as he started to spill inside your cunt once more, taking one of your breasts into his mouth. He suckled, and as you let go, milk flowed freely from your erect nipples. Hongjoong moaned at the sweet taste, lapping it all up.

   You shivered at the sensation, and Hongjoong pulled away with a pop as he flipped you over, bending you over the counter. With a smack to your ass, he entered your pussy from behind, grabbing a hold of your hair. “C-can’t stop-” he sobbed, pounding into you with no sign of slowing down any time soon. “Gonna keep cumming inside your fucking pussy.”

   “Please,” you whined, shutting your eyes. Your leaking tits raked against the metal counter, painting it a transparent white with your milk. Hongjoong’s hands sneaked from behind you, reaching around to grab your tits. Squeezing them, he pulled you up against his chest, his pelvis meeting the sore, red skin of your ass. Nonstop was he cumming again and again back to back. Your womb visibly protruded, sticking out like a sore thumb. He wrapped one arm around your tits, the other snaking down and feeling at your tummy, feeling the way his cock slid up and down inside you. 

   You came again for a third time without warning, legs shaking. Your eyes rolled back to the inside of your head, and a fourth came on when he didn’t stop.

   “O-oh- oh fuck!” Hongjoong cried, stilling inside you. You fell forward, grasping the counter. You felt his cock literally knot inside you. It grew in size and locked in you like a key. Cum filled you to the brim, you felt like you could vomit from how full you were. Hongjoong was shaking behind you, and he fell forward as well, arms caging you. 

   He whimpered softly, sniffling. Heavy pants and sniffles were shared between you as the last of his cum was milked from him. He finally started to soften, and slowly pulled out of you as your minds went back to being levelheaded. His cock departed with a soft, wet pop, and loads of cum pumped out of you in what felt like gallons onto the floor below.

   “Gosh…” He breathed out, taking a deep sigh. Your legs trembled, and you, exhausted, kept yourself laying forward on the counter.

   “S-So full,” You murmured, the last of his cum spilling out before your womb felt relieved again. Your skin cooled down, the aphrodisiac starting to wear off on the both of you.

   Hongjoong gently scooped you up and sat you down into his lap, as you both regained clarity. He nuzzled his nose into your hair, closing his eyes.

   “Thank you,” He murmured softly.

   “I'll be careful next time,” you murmur back, taking deep breaths.

   “Yeah, make sure it's afèconder, not fèconder.”

[humming-pokemon-helpers]

are. are you ok? please don’t have done anything to rash…

...fine, fine, I'm fine... my medical record is a damn mess now, but I'm fine.

Sorry I wasn't around. I was busy getting chewed out by... several nurses, Cobalion, Virizion for some reason, Cheri, Wolfgang, and my parents. At least some of them understood, but...

What was I supposed to do, walk up to a hospital and tell them there's a fucking tracker in my ear and could they please remove it? I wish there wasn't stigma against that, but I know better than anyone they'd be calling the psychiatric ward long before they'd be calling a surgery team!

...They called the psychiatric ward the other way around too, but... hey, I'm not an immediate danger to anyone, so no thanks. Not doing that.

All I really needed was this ear fixed, anyways...

[thehusbandoden]

He Doesn't Realize How Much he Needs You Until You're Gone Part One- Dabi

A/n: 100th writing I've posted :3

I hope you like it haha.

General info:

Genre: pure angst \\ wc: 2,425 \\ female reader \\ posted: 06/06/24

Warnings!: arguing, neglect, pure angst, crying, yelling, screaming, hurt, feeling betrayed, injuries (reader gets burned- not by Dabi), pushing your partner away (both parties), feeling worthless, feelings being discarded, mention of therapy, thoughts of leaving, thoughts of death, fear of a loved one dying, numbing your emotions, Dabi raging (burning things), leaving, partner being very tsundere, mention of blood (Dabi's tears), regret, guilt, becoming a husk, I think that's all haha. Pls lmk if I miss anything! <33

I will post two endings, one with angst and one with fluff. Lmk if you want to be tagged!

Tears roll down your cheeks as you spam Dabi with texts. You had just gotten into an argument with your beloved when he stormed out, cursing you out.

"Please." You quietly plead, your voice broken with sobs. "Don't leave me."

All of your texts remain unread. All your calls declined. You were having a panic attack by now, yet nothing seemed to get the villain's attention.

Just as you're about to completely lose it, you hear footsteps. Your freeze, listening with an indescribable intensity. The window opens. Your eyes dart to the activity.

Familiar black combat boots peek through the gap, falling to the floor. Your eyes travel up the familiar torn jeans, the worn out t-shirt, the burned neck, the crooked frown, and finally to the comforting turquoise eyes.

You let out a sob of relief as you see your Dabi standing in front of you. He looks down at you, grimacing.

"What happened to you?" He scoffed.

"I-I was worried." Your voice was hoarse and broken from your sobs.

"Worried?" He grunts. "You're more idiotic than I thought." He groans, grabbing the sandwich you made before the argument.

"I-I thought you were leaving me."

"I'm not gonna leave ya. No matter how annoying you are." He scoffs.

Annoying....

Your mind repeats the word several times, your face stiffening as you numb your emotions.

"Sorry..." you mumble.

"Don't start that pouty crap." He scoffs, shooting you a glare. "I'm tired of you being such a bother. I have so much to deal with. Your pathetic emotions isn't on my list."

You quietly fold your arms, moving to the couch. You watch Dabi silently, taking deep breaths to contain your emotions.

"I'm leaving for a mission tonight. I'll be back before next week."

His voice was less harsh, but nowhere near as warm as usual.

"O-okay.." you mumble, fidgeting with your sleeves. He rolls his eyes with a scoff, stomping into your shared bedroom.

~~

"I'm leaving now, brat."

You scramble to your feet, swiftly moving to his side. You lean up, hoping for a kiss as you ever so slightly pucker your lips.

You know your husband. He will notice... won't he?

His cold eyes move down to your lips. He grunts, turning around and leaving. "See ya later, brat. Don't be pouting when I get home, you hear?" He mutters, hauling himself through the window.

He always came in and out through the back window... it would be bad if your neighbors caught a highly wanted villain in your apartment.. hence the sneaking.

You've lived together for over a year now, you've moved four times now.

"Wait-" you call out, reaching out to your husband. His cold gaze burns into you.

"Um- a-aren't you going to... going to.."

"Spit it out, woman."

"Aren't you going to.. kiss me?" You blush. Dabi scoffs.

"Don't expect needles privileges after your attitude yesterday."

"Attitude?! Do you mean our argument?" You protest.

"Here it goes again." He groans. "You're always complaining and refusing to take accountability."

"Thats nonsense." You clench your fists, trying to suppress your emotions. Tears burned your eyes, but you refused to let them shed.

"What's nonsense is your attitude. You can't even keep me around now can ya? Your attitude always drives me off! I wonder why I ever married you in the first place. You give me attitude and then act like I'm the victim. Pathetic."

Tears well in your eyes. You bite your lip. "I won't ask for anymore from you." You whisper.

"Good. Keep it that way." He lands outside, shrugging his shoulder before walking off with an nonchalant attitude.

You close the window, leaning against the wall as you try to slow down your breathing. Tears fall down your cheeks as you curl in a ball, feeling hurt, angry, betrayed, and worthless.

The days pass by as you wait for Dabi to return. You didn't hear from him, and he was gone far longer than he said he would be. Every text was left unread, every call ignored, every voice-mail left un-listened to.

Eventually, you stopped trying. You got a therapist, and ended up deciding on what was best for you. When he comes home, if he doesn't treat you better, if he doesn't even listen or try to change, its better for you to leave. Even if it was just for a little bit.

Days turn into weeks, and weeks blur into months. Many nights you lay awake, doubting yourself. Doubting your worth.

It killed you inside. Your self esteem plummeted. You stopped going to therapy. All you wanted was your husband. Your husband's love, his validation, his touch, his mere presence.

Curled in a ball, you stared at the wall with a blank expression. Horrid scenarios went through your head as you imagine your poor husband alone, injured, and dying.

Tears blur your vision as you imagine him already dead, his loving soul leaving this world without even telling you goodbye. You hadn't even gotten a kiss. Or an I love you.

The tears don't stop. And they didn't as the hours slowly pass by. You felt like ripping your hair out, screaming, hitting, throwing things- anything to get your mind off of your husband's doomed death.

The window opens. Your eyes dart towards the unlocked glass pane. Combat boots pokes through. You gasp in relief.

A worn, exhausted, injured, and in pain figure follows the boots. Revealing your beloved, Dabi. You let out a small sob, launching yourself at him.

You close your eyes in relief as you feel his warm chest, the familiar staples bringing you comfort. As you move to open your eyes you feel a hand to your shoulder, your backside hitting the floor.

You look up in shock, Dabi looking down at you in disgust.

"I thought you said you wouldn't ask anymore from me." He scoffed. You grab your arm, holding it to your chest.

"I-" you start.

"I really don't want to hear it. Just let me rest." He groans. You slowly lift yourself off of the floor, silently moving into your shared bedroom.

You curl in a ball, hiding under the sheets. You hear him walking around outside of the room, silently listening. Tears blur your vision once more. You cover your mouth, tightly closing your eyes.

You shake with sobs, doing your very best to stay quiet. You can't help but feel worthless. Tears stream down your cheeks as you listen to your husband's familiar footsteps, glad he's safe at the minimum...

Hours pass by as you cry yourself to sleep, your stray tears staining your cheeks.

~~

Dabi's POV

Dabi strolls into your shared bedroom. "Oi, make me a sandwich will ya?" He grunts. Yiu don't move, irritating him.

He moves to your side, snatching the blanket. "I said-" he stops as he sees you asleep, tears stained on your cheeks. A strange pain dtabs at his chest. Shaking it off, he drops the blanket.

Staring at you, he gently cups your cheek, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. He pulls away, caressing your cheek. "I've missed you. Even though you're a pain." He whispers before pulling away.

~~

Your POV

The next morning

You blink open your eyes, rubbing at the lingering sleepiness. Yawning, your eyes lazily run over the room. The curtains were hiding the small bedroom from sunlight, the entire room encompassed in darkness.

Sitting up, you rub your puffy eyes once more. Dabi was no where near sight. Sighing, you absent-mindedly trace the bruise on your arm where you fell.

Your heart aches as you remember your therapist's words. This isn't healthy. It needs to stop...

The door opens, revealing Dabi. "Finally awake, sleepy head?" His voice wasn't the cold growl like last night, but it was no where near gentle.

You nod, timidly. Afraid of upsetting him once more.

"I'm starving. Want to make breakfas..?" This was his way of asking you to. If you agreed, there would be no thank you, for you "wanted" to.

If you said no, he would be irritated for a while. He won't cook, no matter how many times you beg him to while you're away, so he will oftenly go without eating if you're unavailable or refuse to cook.

Biting your lip, you nod. He gives you a short grimace, something similar to a small smile before walking out. Standing up, you yawn, stretching your arms. Your eyes ache from all the crying, but you push that to the back of your mind.

You walk out to the kitchen, beginning to cook. You feel Dabi's eyes on you, but you don't pay much attention. You were guarded, unsure why he's acting so differently this morning. Cautious of unleashing the monster once more.

"Dabi?" You murmur. He grunts in response.

"I talked to a therapist when you were on your mission..."

"A therapist? What for? Did you leak my identity?!" He snaps.

"No, I didn't. I was really struggling for a while and needed someone to help me."

"So you relied on a stranger?!"

"You wouldn't answer. I called, texted, I left voice-mails."

"Oh so you think that your crappy attempt to get my attention justifies getting help from a stranger!? Was he a guy?! Were you sleeping with him?!"

"What?! No! I would never!"

"Then what were you doing with them?!"

"I was getting help for my mental state, Dabi!"

"Oh poor baby, you think being lonely justifies that?!"

"You're being unreasonable. Dabi she told me it was best for me to leave you if you keep treating me like this. I'm telling you this so you can wake up and change. This isn't okay." You snap, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

"Leave me?!" He laughs. "You wouldn't. You can't live without me."

"You've been making me live without you for months, Dabi. You don't tell me you love me, you don't show me affection, I'm lucky just to have you not yell at me!"

"You're being dramatic." He spits. "You're a spoiled brat. I've been working my arse off for you and you're this ungrateful."

"You've been working for revenge! It's not for me, it never was! I have my own job that pays for all or our bills Dabi!"

"You're listening to a stranger's advice and plan on leaving me?!"

"Only if you don't change Dabi!"

"You knew what you were getting into when you married me, y/n. Stop playing the victim."

"You didn't treat me like this when we first married."

"Keep telling yourself that." He spits, putting his jacket on.

"Where are you going?!" You cry, the food far from recovery, you hazardously shove the pan into the sink, burning your hand. You cry out in pain.

"Y/n!" Dabi yells, hurrying your side. He aggressively graps your hand, making you cry out once more. "Idiot! Why did you hurt yourself like that?!"

"Just leave me alone!" You try to yank your hand away but Dabi yanks it back.

"Stay still!"

"Let me go Dabi!"

"Y/n just sit still!!"

You push him back, protectively pressing your injured hand to your chest. "I said to let me go!"

Dabi's face scrunches up as he looks down at you. After a few silent moments he turns away. "I'm over you and your dramatic act." He mumbled.

Walking to the door, he pulls his combat boots on. "Don't leave!" You cry, coddling your burning hand.

He ignores you, moving to the window. "Dabi! If you leave without us finishing this I'm leaving."

"Go for it. I don't need you. I never did." He sneered.

Your heart throbbed as your beloved husband jumped through the open window, not looking back. Falling to your knees you break into sobs.

You cry over the absence of your beloved, you cry over the pain, and you cry over the dreaded feeling of being completely alone.

You don't stop for hours. It goes on and on until your completely out of tears, numb to the feeling of utter loss. Your hand aches. Your eyes aches. Your heart aches.

It all just- hurts.

You slowly drift to sleep, the cold kitchen floor being the only thing that grounds you from the pain of betrayal.

~~

Dabi's POV

Three days later.

Dropping from the window Dabi nonchalantly glances around the room. It seemed unusually cold an empty. Paying it no mind, Dabi hazardly tossed his jacket and boots towards the front door.

"Y/n, I'm home." He calls, running his hands through his greasy hair, his roots were growing out. Rolling his eyes, he opens the fridge. It was... empty.

"Y/n!" He calls once more, huffing in annoyance. "I get home and can't even eat?!"

No response. "For Pete's sake you petty brat! Get out here!"

Silence.

Anger fills his being before he remembers your words before he left. A strange pain shoots through him, his eyes widen as he runs into your shared bedroom. Everything of yours was... gone.

His heart quickens as he searches the entire house for you. Nothing. Not even a trace. His breathing quickens as he pulls at his hair. Taking a shuddering breathe, he shakes his head.

"You'll regret this y/n... you'll be back and I'll laugh in your face!" He chuckles, losing a bit of his sanity. "I DON'T NEED YOU! YOU'LL SEE!" He screams, activating his quirk as he knocks over a chair. He let's out a scream, lighting anything and everything in sight on fire.

Months pass by. Dabi has turned into a shell, simply surviving. Work, sleep, work, sleep, work... a "good" day is when he remembers to eat or drink. A shower or change of clothes is out of mind.

Walking through the streets, he walks inside the charred apartment. Stepping inside, he closes the door. He doesn't care about his identity anymore, or anything really.

His turquoise eyes scan the apartment, his eyes landing on a photo of you and him. His heart strangely aches once more. "Y/n..." he murmured, his fists clenching.

Falling to his knees, he lets out a broken sob. His eyes burn, tears would be running if they could. Blood drips from his charred tear ducts. He falls to the floor face first, nothing but his beloved wife on his mind.

How could he be so stupid?! How could he be so utterly retarted?! He lost the one thing in this world that actually loved him. Grasping his phone, he dials your number.

Please. Please pick up... please... I need you...

~~~~~

Part two (coming soon) | alt. ending (coming soon) lmk if you want to be tagged!! <33

Dabi's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | Tips<3

Reblogs make me smile (bonus points if you tag) and comments make my day!!

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging. 

[sleepynoons]

jing yuan x f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: nudity, suggestive content

notes: pls lmk if i'm missing any tags or warnings. anyway, nothing explicit this time, experimenting more w/ pieces that heavily focus on sexual tension + build-up. anyway x2, not sure how to describe the setting of this piece. still uses some hrs concepts like aeons. jing yuan is rich, the reader is his maid, and both use more formal language. this was a fun exercise!

THERE ARE a lot of rumors surrounding your master. you hear them when you go grocery shopping, visit the tailor, pick up the dry cleaning, drop off lunches at the front desk on days that he’s busy. some of them are about you – who are you? his wife? mistress? there’s no way you’re just a friend, right?

you’re trained to maintain a stoic facade, but inside, you can’t help but be entertained. you are none of those things, and one can only dream of sharing such a bond with him. you’re content with simply being his maid – you mustn’t tread closer.

on a wooden tray, you neatly arrange a cup of chamomile tea, another cup of warm, honeyed milk, and a folded newspaper of today’s news. before you leave the kitchen, though, you make sure to drop a few treats into a feeding bowl and rub at mimi’s stomach, your master’s beloved dog.

“your father needs some time alone,” you say to the animal. seemingly able to understand your words, mimi’s ears droop at a slight angle and she licks at your fingertips, seeking consolation. “he’ll be out soon, i promise.”

you get back up, wash your hands, and pick up the tray, heading over to your master’s bathroom.

from the hallway, you can hear the sound of water splashing and sloshing. if you strain a bit more, you can arguably make out some humming, nonsensical and haphazard in melody. when you reach the door, you hear submerging, and you know you’re right on time.

you knock on the door twice. “master, may i come in?”

you hear a faint noise of affirmation, no doubt muffled by the wall, and carefully enter without spilling the contents of the tray.

you’re greeted with a dazzling smile and glimmering droplets of soap and water slipping down naked skin.

your master greets you, fine smile lines outlining his rosy lips and delicate nose. “how many times have i told you that just my name will suffice?”

“master jing yuan,” you say as you place his drinks and paper on a designated drawer beside the tub, “how many times have i told you that you shouldn’t ask me to join you when you’re in the bathroom?”

“but who else can help me with my unruly mane of silver?” he pouts, tone feigning innocence.

“your hair isn’t unruly.”

“did you not call it that last time?”

you click your tongue. your master chuckles and turns away from you to face the other end of the tub. you grab a stool, hand him his newspaper, and take your place behind him. with a brush in hand, you unravel the red ribbon tying his hair and, with quick, gentle strokes, run the brush through the thick layers. you didn’t mean to call his hair unruly before, but you think there’s quite a bit of truth to it anyway. you also note that his hair has gotten quite long.

“master jing yuan, perhaps it’s time for a trim?” you suggest.

your master hums and leans back so that your hands can reach the crown of his head. “you are right. i shall leave it to you, then?”

shaking your head, you respond, “you really ought to get it done at a professional salon. i can only do so much.”

“you are a woman of many talents. i am sure you will do just fine,” he reassures. you huff in protest.

as your master’s only taking a soak today, you plait his hair into a thick braid before tying it up into a bun. you hand him his cup of tea, which is no longer scalding, and stand up to leave.

“oh!” he suddenly exclaims. “i seem to have forgotten my bathrobe.” he looks up at you expectantly, and you nod in understanding.

“i’ll go grab it. i’ll be right back.” you bow quickly before closing the door behind you on the way out and heading towards the laundry room.

you take your time. really, you needed an excuse to leave the bathroom. you’re glad that your master’s such a big fan of bath bombs, or else you’d see everything… you pat harshly at your warm cheeks to break free from your reverie. don’t tread any closer. you’re behaving like a schoolgirl experiencing her first love, and you can only groan internally at yourself. but you can’t blame yourself either – anyone would fall in love with your master if they know him the way you do. he’s so irresistible, and having been his maid for so long has only enabled you to witness more of his charisma and charm. you sigh, sitting on the floor in front of the dryer as you wait for it to de-wrinkle your master’s robe.

you return ten minutes later, both for your own wellbeing and to also give your master some time to himself.

“master jing yuan, i’m back. may i come in?”

instead of a reply, though, the door cracks open, and your master, wearing nothing but a towel tied loosely around his hips, appears before you. you yelp and rush to cover your eyes. he simply laughs at your antics before grabbing you by the arm and leading you into the bathroom.

“what – what are you –“

“i hurt my arm today, so i will need your help putting my robe on. it is quite heavy, after all.”

you don’t know where to look. you certainly can’t look at the bathroom mirror that covers the top-half of one wall or the marble on the other that shines and reflects so clearly. you opt to close your eyes and hold the robe up by the collar.

“this is hardly appropriate,” you mutter, embarrassment and nervousness coloring your tone. as a result, you try to distract yourself with another subject. “besides, couldn’t you have told me earlier? i would’ve prepared something in advance had i known.”

“i just noticed the bruise as well. seems i was a little careless today.” he then chuckles – at himself or you, you’re not sure.

you remark, “you? careless? that hardly goes together.”

your master lets you know that he’s put on his sleeves, so you step away, eyes still closed. 

immediately, he hums with obvious disapproval. “hm? why are you backing away?”

you sputter, “m-master jing yuan, i should not be here! if you could just – i don’t know – turn around or something, i can –“

“i have turned around.”

you sigh in relief, happy that he’s obedient for once. your master is often relentless in his teasing and tricks, and you’re grateful that he’s granting you mercy in this moment. so you open your eyes, ready to find your way to the door –

your master is standing dangerously close, so that you’re eye-to-eye with him. from this view, you can also see that his chest is barely covered, knot slowly slipping undone.

“master!” you gasp. the proximity, the surprise, the challenging look in his eyes – they’re all driving you mad.

he clears his throat. “jing yuan.”

“master jing yuan.”

“jing yuan.”

“oh, for aeons’ sake, jing yuan! you’re not wearing your robe properly!”

jing yuan gloats. he then says in a low, low whisper, “my hands have cramped up. can you do it for me instead?” he speaks directly into your ears, and you want to scream.

shaking, you stretch out your trembling hands and take the ends of the belt. you can feel jing yuan’s hot breaths fanning your cheek, and you can even smell the faint trace of lavender from the bath bomb. your fingers are too clumsy, though, and you fail multiple times in properly tying the belt. after a few more fruitless attempts, jing yuan reaches down, softly grabbing your hands, and gently guides them.

“and… like this,” he breathes. even when you’ve secured the knot, though, he doesn’t let go.

don’t tread any closer. “j-jing yuan,” you whimper. “please…”

his hands inch up, gliding from your palms to your forearms to your elbows. he does it so slowly, so seductively, so intentionally. he tugs you impossibly a little closer, and now you can feel the heat of his chest through your uniform. then, jing yuan rests his head on your shoulders, and his lips ghost the sensitive skin of your neck, causing you to shiver and shudder at the sensation. the two of you just stand there, him taking deep breaths, you holding yours.

finally, after a few minutes, jing yuan breaks the silence. “i can no longer employ you, my dearest.”

you feel faint. you’re never escaping the gossip now.

[jinxziie]

Thanks sm for all the lurv n support on my posts it's been so nice and every1 is so cute ✧.*

These 'Brick Apartments' featured in my "fave street" post, are now available for u guys to have in ur worlds yeyy!

My lovely husband was so kind to help me make a list of cc I use in my world/builds so that they show up in ur world perfectly! My cc list and other info will be under the cut!! ★Project Renaissance By Asabinsims ★Uranesia Lighting Mod By Nilxis

★ Credits & Love to every cc creator that is on the list (i tried to make sure to include all links and creator names if i missed any pls lmk)

sfs / mirror

--sorry in advance the list is long but i'm not trynna mess up anyone's cc folders saur u guys can pick n choose wat u wanna download >.< imo everything in that list is worth having (ily cc creators) ★ All of my apartment builds are meant to be used with Ani's TS3 Apartment Controller Mod.

If you DO download these and do anything to them PLS PLS PLS take screenies and post them using #jinxrenos or tag me so i can see them and reblog ASAP its gen what im lookin forward to the most. If this does well, I will def release more builds ♡︎

DONT download the cc if u do not want to.

The cc in this list is not just for this build, but for builds i will be uploading in the future as well. If u are planning to download more builds from me I suggest downloading everything on the list (if it's not too much </3)

IK IK this a bible long post, u made it to the enddd!! i promise the future download posts will not be as long. I just wanted to make sure we all on the same page herrreeee!! TYSM AGAIN ♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

sfs / mirror

★My CC List this is also linked in the zip folder! if u have any questions or if i messed anything up pls lmk this my first time doin this lol tyyyˏˋ°•*⁀➷

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (7); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 7.7k+

Chapter Warnings: i'm assuming there are no warnings but if i need to add anything pls do lmk !!

A/N: my fav part about working on this series is having to rewatch the movie repeatedly to make sure i’m capturing its essence just right. at this point, i feel like i could recite every line by heart without even watching it lmao. anywaysss, this series is wrapping up soon, and I’m going to miss it SOOOO MUCH. pls do read this part and let me know your thoughts! <3

part 7

"I don’t want any part of your family." Jungkook announces, his voice sharp. Before you, your mother, or your grandmother can respond, he turns on his heel and strides away.

You gasp softly, a lump forming in your throat as you spin to face your mother and grandmother, your eyes glistening. "Was this really necessary?" you seethe, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

Without waiting for a reply, you rush after Jungkook, your heart pounding as panic and hurt collide within you. The music and laughter of the party feel like a cruel backdrop as you weave through the crowd, calling his name.

Jungkook, however, is already far ahead, his chest tight and his breathing ragged as he pushes through the sea of dancing bodies.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back, his mind reeling from everything he’s just heard. The weight of the accusations, the humiliation, the betrayal... it’s all too much. He crashes into shoulders, mumbles hurried apologies, but keeps moving, driven by only one instinct... to escape.

You, meanwhile, search frantically, your eyes darting through the kaleidoscope of lights and people. “Jungkook!” you call out, your voice barely audible over the music.

You somehow manage to spot Taehyung and Miyeon, who are laughing with your cousins, their cheeks flushed from champagne and joy.

"Have you seen Jungkook?" you ask breathlessly, your desperation apparent. They all exchange confused glances, clearly dazed and unaware of the storm brewing inside you. "No, I haven’t..." Taehyung answers, his brows furrowing. "Is everything okay?"

But you’re already stepping away, scanning the room, your pulse quickening with every passing second. You press through the crowd, ignoring the curious looks from partygoers as dread settles deep in your chest. You silently curse yourself for letting him slip away, knowing how deeply this moment must have wounded him.

Jungkook, now outside the hall, stands under the open night sky, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself. The cool air stings his skin, but it does little to numb the chaos inside him.

For a fleeting moment, he thought he had found a place to belong... someone to belong to. But tonight, the cracks have grown far too wide, and all he can feel is the ache of being an outsider again.

If your mother’s disapproval had ended with him, he could have taken it... he had prepared himself for that. But dragging his only family into it, accusing his mother, the one person who had given up everything for him? That was unbearable.

The words your mother spoke play on a loop in his head, tearing at his composure. His mother... the woman who worked tirelessly, who sacrificed her dreams for his future, who always made sure he had what he needed, no matter how little they had... how could anyone think so little of her?

He clenches his fists, trying to dispel the anger and confusion threatening to consume him.

And yet, there’s a tiny seed of doubt buried beneath the pain, watered by memories of the sudden move to New York. How his mother randomly quit her job in Busan one day and told him to pack up. How she never offered a real explanation, only saying... "It’s for the best."

Jungkook shakes his head, his trust in her unshaken, but his mind remains clouded. He doesn’t know what to think, what to believe. He feels lost, untethered, as though the ground beneath him is crumbling away.

There’s only one place he can think of going right now... away from this party, away from all these people, away from the echoes of your mother’s piercing words, and that’s Yoongi’s place.

The city noise fades into the background as Jungkook walks, his steps heavy and mechanical. The streets of Daegu blur together, unimportant and indistinct, as he trudges forward, his blazer hanging limply from one hand while the other is buried deep in his pocket.

By the time he reaches Yoongi’s estate, his shoulders are slumped, his head bowed, and he looks like a man carrying the weight of the world.

The massive iron gates screech open, revealing the familiar expanse of Yoongi’s mansion. Jungkook steps inside, dragging his feet across the paved path.

The grand doors swing open almost immediately, and Yoongi rushes out to meet him. "Kook!" Yoongi’s voice is filled with concern, and it’s obvious that the guards must have informed him of Jungkook’s unexpected arrival.

As Yoongi jogs towards him, his expression shifts from confusion to alarm. He slows down when he’s just a few steps away, studying Jungkook intently, trying to piece together why his friend is here instead of at the wedding.

But when Yoongi looks into Jungkook’s eyes, he immediately knows better than to ask. The storm of emotions written all over Jungkook’s face... hurt, betrayal, and exhaustion speaks volumes.

Yoongi doesn’t press for answers, doesn’t push him to talk. Instead, he closes the remaining distance and pulls Jungkook into a firm, securing hug.

Jungkook stiffens at first, but then he lets out a shuddering breath, his tension easing just slightly as he leans into the warmth of Yoongi’s embrace. He shuts his eyes tightly, as if holding them closed can stop the emotions threatening to spill over.

//

You click your tongue in frustration, shaking your head as the voicemail drones on again. You lower your phone, staring at the screen, your heart sinking with every passing second.

Taking a shaky breath, you dial his number again, your hands trembling. "Please... please pick up, Kook... please." you mutter, but just like the 36 times before, the call goes unanswered.

Standing just outside the wedding venue, the muffled sounds of the party echo faintly behind you. The heavy bass of the music vibrates through the ground beneath your feet, a constant reminder of the celebration you’re supposed to be a part of.

Yet everything feels distant, blurred, inconsequential. Your mind is consumed by only one thing, only one person... Jungkook. His face. The look in his eyes when your mother and grandmother shattered the fragile sense of belonging he had.

A part of you knew your mother wasn’t exactly thrilled when you brought Jungkook home for the first time. She had always envisioned someone who fit her rigid mold of perfection... someone polished, wealthy, and born into a family with status.

Jungkook, didn’t exactly align with her ideal type for you. But you convinced yourself, naively, that in time she would see what you saw in him. That after witnessing how much you loved him, she would come around.

What you didn't expect was this. This level of cruelty. A literal background check? Digging into his family’s past? And then to humiliate him so mercilessly in the middle of a celebration? The memory of it makes your stomach churn, a fresh wave of guilt crashing over you.

But you don’t care about his past. You never did. Whatever your mother uncovered, whatever reasons she thinks she has to deem him “unworthy”...none of it matters to you. What matters is him... the man you know, the man you love.

You don’t see Jungkook as a blemish on your family’s pristine reputation or a potential "threat" to your social standing.

You see him as the man who stole your heart the day you met him in New York. The dreamy photographer whose eyes light up when he talks about the things he’s passionate about. The man who sees the world through a lens most people couldn’t even imagine.

You love him for his little quirks... for the way he fusses over perfect lighting, the way he scrunches his nose when he’s deep in thought, the way he pouts his lips to hold himself back from crying while you both watch sappy romcoms in his little apartment, the way he makes you feel truly seen. Not as the rich girl born into privilege, but as you. Just you.

And now, you’re terrified you might have lost him. Terrified that the person who made you feel whole might be slipping away because of the very family you’ve tried so hard to reconcile him with.

Your phone screen dims, and you realize with a jolt that your call has ended... voicemail again. Your breath hitches, and your vision blurs as desperation claws at your chest.

A tear trickles down your cheek and all you can think about is where Jungkook's gone, how he is and what's going through his mind.

//

“Kook… you gotta eat something, man.” Yoongi calls gently from the doorway of the guest room, his voice low and laced with concern.

His eyes scan the dimly lit room, landing on Jungkook, who remains curled up under a thick blanket, his back turned to the world. The younger man is a still, silent figure, lost in the folds of the bed.

There’s no response. No shift. No acknowledgment. Just the faint rise and fall of Jungkook’s shoulders as he breathes.

It’s been a full day since Jungkook showed up at Yoongi’s doorstep, looking like a ghost of himself. He hadn’t offered much explanation, but Yoongi didn’t need one. He’d pieced it together soon enough.

“Alright...” Yoongi murmurs, almost to himself, noticing how Jungkook doesn’t so much as flinch. “Maybe later.” He steps back, pulling the door shut and makes his way to the living room.

“He’s still the same.” Yoongi says as he steps into the room, his tone subdued. His gaze shifts to you, perched on the edge of the couch. You’re sitting so still, your hands clasped tightly on your lap, your knuckles pale.

When Yoongi called you earlier in the morning, informing you that Jungkook was at his place, you hadn’t hesitated. You came immediately, in hopes of seeing how Jungkook was doing.

But now, sitting here, your chest aches with a mix of guilt, worry, and helplessness. You’ve already told Yoongi about what happened at the party... how your mother humiliated Jungkook, dredging up his past like it was some dark secret to be weaponized. And now, the image of his face in that moment... hurt, exposed, betrayed, still haunts you.

Every instinct screams at you to go upstairs, to see him, to explain, to apologize. But fear holds you back. What if you make it worse? What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he blames you, even though none of this was your doing?

You force yourself to take a breath, the air shaky as it fills your lungs. “Okay then…” Your voice is quiet, almost trembling, as you stand up from the couch. “I’ll leave now.”

Yoongi watches you with a mix of empathy and reluctance. He doesn’t try to stop you, though you can tell he wishes he could offer some kind of comfort.

You make your way to the front door, your footsteps slow and hesitant. But when you reach the door, you pause, turning to face Yoongi. “He’ll... be okay, right?” you ask, your voice soft, fragile. Your eyes search his, pleading for reassurance you desperately need.

Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line before he offers a small, tentative smile. “Hopefully.” he says gently. “I’ll keep you updated. Don’t worry too much.”

You nod, though his words do little to ease the ache in your chest. Your smile in return is faint, barely there, as you turn and step out to leave

Once you’re gone, Yoongi lingers at the door for a moment, watching your car drive away. Then, with a deep exhale, he retreats upstairs, returning to the guest room. The room is as it was... dim, still, heavy with silence. Jungkook hasn’t moved an inch.

Yoongi approaches the bed, sitting on the edge, careful not to startle him. “Kook...” he begins, his tone soft but steady. “Y/n was here.” That gets a reaction, albeit a subtle one. Jungkook’s shoulders stiffen ever so slightly, but he doesn’t turn around.

“She’s worried about you, you know.” Yoongi says gently, his voice cutting through the thick silence. “Said you haven’t been answering her calls.” He pauses, his eyes fixed on the back of Jungkook’s head, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment. When none comes, he exhales softly. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

Jungkook remains motionless, his eyes locked on the faint glow of light outlining the edges of the curtains. The world outside feels distant, unreachable, like a place he no longer belongs.

He’s seen the missed calls, the messages, each one a silent plea from you. He knows you’re worried, he can feel it even in your absence. But the thought of facing you now feels impossible.

His mind loops through the events of the night before... the way your mother’s biting words had stripped him bare in front of you. The sting of humiliation burns fresh in his memory, each detail sharper than the last. He knows it wasn’t your fault. You had no part in what happened, no idea of your mother’s cruel intentions.

Still, the weight of it all... the shame, the vulnerability, the fear that you might look at him differently now, keeps him rooted to the bed.

He misses you. God, he misses you so much it hurts. He wants nothing more than to bury his face in your shoulder, to let your presence soothe the storm raging inside him. But right now, he feels too raw, too exposed.

Maybe he just needs time. Space.

Yoongi watches him closely, waiting for even the smallest reaction. When it doesn’t come, he lets out another sigh, long and heavy with understanding.

“Alright...” he says softly, standing from the bed. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs, okay?” His voice is calm, reassuring, as if he’s trying to lend Jungkook some of his own strength.

With that, Yoongi turns and walks towards the door, leaving the younger man alone once again. The sound of the door closing echoes faintly, a quiet reminder that the world hasn’t stopped, even if it feels like Jungkook’s has.

//

“He still hasn’t responded?” Taehyung’s voice is tinged with worry. You don’t reply, your gaze fixed on the open window of your bedroom, the soft rustle of curtains doing little to calm the storm inside you.

Miyeon sits beside you, her arm wrapped gently around your shoulders, her thumb tracing slow, soothing circles. She doesn’t say anything... she knows words won’t reach you right now.

Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin stand nearby, their expressions heavy with concern. Seeing you like this... so pale, so fragile, so utterly shattered, breaks their hearts. It’s been three whole days since everything fell apart.

Three days since the party. Three days since you've seen Jungkook. Since your world crumbled.

According to the initial plan, you and Jungkook were supposed to leave Daegu yesterday to board your flight back to New York. However, the unforeseen turn of events derailed everything.

These past three days, you’ve visited Yoongi’s house every day, hoping… praying… to see Jungkook, to catch even a fleeting glimpse of him. But each time, all you’re met with is Yoongi’s somber shake of the head, a silent confirmation that Jungkook doesn’t want to see you.

Your chest aches with a pain so profound it feels etched into the very fabric of your being. You miss him so fucking much but what haunts you the most is the uncertainty. Where does this leave the two of you? Does he want to end things? Does he want to break up?

The mere thought of never seeing him again feels like an unhealing wound, a chasm that devours every sliver of hope. It’s unbearable... the kind of pain that steals your breath and leaves you hollow, trembling, and utterly lost.

Suddenly, you rise from the bed, startling the others.

“Y/n?” Seokjin’s voice is hurried as they all follow your purposeful strides towards the door. “Where are you going?”

You don’t answer. You don’t even glance back. Your steps quicken as you walk past the hallway and descend the grand staircase, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the tense silence of the house. Your eyes dart around until they find her.

Your mother.

She’s seated by the pool in the garden, sipping tea and reading a book as if nothing has happened. As if she hasn’t ripped your life apart with her calculated cruelty.

Something inside you snaps.

You shove the glass door open with a force that makes it clatter, storming out onto the lawn. Your mother looks up, startled by your sudden presence. She carefully sets her teacup down on the table beside her, a composed expression masking the chaos she’s caused.

“Y/n darling—”

“You’re horrible.” you blurt out, cutting her off. Your voice trembles, not with weakness, but with the sheer force of emotions clawing their way to the surface. Her calm demeanor falters, just slightly. “Y/n—”

“Did you really have to go that far?” you demand, your voice rising with each word. “Really, Mama? A background check? Was that necessary?”

The others... Taehyung, Miyeon, Namjoon, and Seokjin exchange uneasy glances. They stand a few steps behind, unsure if they should intervene, but they know better than to stop you now.

“Do you honestly think digging into his past, dredging up something so personal, and throwing it in his face was the answer?” you continue, your voice shaking with anger and heartbreak.

“Did you think that humiliating him, tearing him down in front of me, would make me change my mind? If you did, you’re wrong, Mama. So, so wrong.”

Your mother opens her mouth, but the fury in your eyes silences her.

“I don’t care about his past!” you cry, your voice breaking. “I don’t care about what his mother did or about your stupid obsession with our reputation. I don’t care if you think he’s a ‘threat’ to our image. None of that matters to me! All I care about is him. I love him, Mama. Don't you understand that? I love him more than anything, and I can’t—” Your voice cracks, tears streaming down your face now.

“I can’t imagine a life without him. And you’ve made him feel like he’s nothing. Like he’s not worthy of me. How could you? How could you be so cruel?”

Your mother’s calm facade begins to crumble under the weight of your words, but you don’t stop.

“You’ve destroyed the one thing that made me happy, the one person who truly matters to me. And for what? Your pride? Your precious image?” You shake your head, your voice now quieter but no less intense.

“You didn’t just hurt him, Mama. You hurt me. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.” Your words hang in the air, heavy and final, as you stand there, chest heaving, tears streaming freely down your face.

Your mother looks at you, her expression frozen, as though struck too deeply to formulate a response. She simply stares, her composure faltering under the weight of your outburst.

Behind you, the others remain silent, their own hearts aching at the rawness of your pain. No one moves, no one speaks. They simply bear witness to the moment you finally let it all out... the moment your anguish and love refused to be silenced any longer.

//

Yoongi peeks his head around the door, his gaze landing on Jungkook, who is lying in the same position as always... curled on his side, back facing the door.

It’s been a week now, and nothing has changed. Jungkook remains silent, unresponsive, and withdrawn. At this point, Yoongi is just relieved he’s started eating again, even if it’s only small amounts.

"Hey, Kook..." Yoongi calls out softly, his tone hesitant, careful. He watches as Jungkook’s shoulders tense ever so slightly, a subtle acknowledgment that he’s heard his voice.

But still, Jungkook doesn’t move. His eyes remain fixed on the curtains ahead, their edges glowing faintly in the daylight. He feels like he’s become one with the bed, as though his body has fused with the mattress, drained of all energy, all will to do anything.

Every day, Yoongi tells him you’ve come by to see him, and every day Jungkook reacts the same way... he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t give in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you... he does. God, he does.

But the thought of facing you feels like scaling a mountain he’s not ready to climb. The humiliation, the pain, the anger... none of it has faded. He knows it wasn’t your fault, knows you didn’t know what was coming, but even so, the wounds are still too raw.

He knows he’s hurting you by shutting you out. He knows this isn’t the right way to handle things, that his silence is only amplifying the ache for both of you.

Yet he feels paralyzed, trapped in this endless loop of shame and sadness. He’s been telling himself he just needs more time, but deep down, he wonders if any amount of time will be enough to make him feel whole again.

By now, he should’ve been back in New York. His flight was almost a week ago. His work is piling up, responsibilities waiting, but none of it seems to matter.

His body feels heavy, his mind clouded with everything that’s gone wrong. Moving, talking, doing anything... it all feels impossible. The future feels distant, unreachable, while the present keeps pulling him under.

“Someone’s here to see you.” Yoongi says, breaking the silence.

Jungkook sighs deeply, his shoulders slumping further. He doesn’t need to guess who it is. He already knows. And just like every other day this past week, he mutters the same words. “I don’t want to see her.”

“It’s not her.” Yoongi says quickly. Jungkook freezes at that, the words catching him off guard. There’s a brief pause before he slowly turns his head, curiosity breaking through his haze. He shifts slightly on the bed, looking at Yoongi standing by the door.

Yoongi steps aside and pushes the door open wider. Jungkook’s breath catches when he sees who steps into the room. His eyes widen, and he’s off the bed in an instant, his movements uncharacteristically quick.

“Ma!” he exclaims, his voice trembling, filled with surprise and a touch of desperation.

His mother stands there with a soft, understanding smile, her presence warm and familiar, like a balm for his aching soul.

But Jungkook doesn’t smile back. He doesn’t speak again. He simply rushes towards her, crossing the room in a heartbeat, and throws his arms around her.

“Ma.” he whispers again, softer this time, his voice breaking. His arms tighten around her as he buries his face in her shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut. She holds him just as tightly, her hand gently stroking the back of his head.

//

"Here, eat this." Jungkook’s mother says gently, holding a plate of food as she sits on the bed, facing him. Her voice is soft but firm, carrying a motherly authority that Jungkook doesn’t dare defy. She picks up a spoonful of rice, bringing it to his lips.

"How can you go on like this, Kook? Not eating, not taking care of yourself..." She shakes her head softly, a small sigh escaping her.

Jungkook opens his mouth obediently, letting her feed him. He chews mechanically, his gaze fixed on her face. Her expression is calm, unchanging, the same serene smile he’s known all his life.

Her eyes seem to study him with quiet concern, yet there’s an unshakable strength behind them. It’s comforting in a way that almost makes his chest ache more.

It’s been twenty minutes since she walked into his room. Twenty minutes since he buried himself in her arms, his emotions spilling over for the first time in days.

Yet, he hasn’t uttered a word about the storm brewing in his heart. He doesn’t know how she got here, doesn’t know why she’s here. Did Yoongi call her? Does she know what happened? More importantly, does she know what he’s learned about her... about their past?

His thoughts swirl in a relentless loop. He keeps telling himself it can’t be true, that it doesn’t make sense. But the questions claw at him, relentless, demanding answers.

His mother lifts another spoonful to his mouth, and he opens instinctively. He chews slowly, his mind racing as he watches her. She seems... the same. The same gentle demeanor, the same patient smile.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Jungkook speaks, his voice hesitant and shaky. “Ma...”

She hums softly at his voice, acknowledging him but continuing to feed him. He swallows thickly, his throat tight. “I... I need to ask you something...” he says. The words feel heavy, like they’re scraping their way out of his chest. “Y/n’s mother... she told me a few things.”

Her hand pauses for a fraction of a second, the spoon hovering in the air, a few inches away from his mouth. But her expression doesn’t falter. She places the spoon back on the plate and looks at him directly, her calm gaze unwavering. “I know.” she says simply.

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. Of course she knows. She always knows. But it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. He searches her face for a hint of denial, some sign that it’s not what he fears. “If... If you’re wondering if any of it is true...” her voice trails off, and she looks at him with an unspoken apology in her eyes.

His breath catches. He can feel the words coming before she even says them, but he’s still not ready. “They’re all true, Kook.” she says softly, her tone gentle.

Jungkook stares at his mother with wide eyes, the weight of her confession pressing down on him like a heavy storm cloud. His thoughts are a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief, and the depth of her words only leaves him more perplexed.

But before he can even form a coherent question, she continues, her tone soft but firm, as if determined to finally unburden herself after all these years.

“When we were in Busan....” she begins, her gaze drifting towards the window where sunlight filters through the newly drawn curtains, illuminating the room with a brightness Jungkook hadn’t seen in days.

“It was hard, Kook. Being a single mother… it wasn’t easy. People weren’t exactly kind, and landing a decent job was a struggle. But somehow, I managed to secure a position at a respectable company. It felt like a turning point.”

Jungkook listens intently, noticing how her voice wavers slightly. “Life became a little easier after that.” she continues.

“I could give you a proper allowance. I was able to afford your photography courses in high school. I even started saving money... something I never thought I’d be able to do. For the first time, I thought life was finally falling into place.”

She pauses, her lips curling into a bittersweet smile. “And maybe, in hindsight, I got a little greedy. I started thinking... now that we were stable, maybe it was time for me to think about myself for once. To find love again.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows slightly, confusion flickering across his features. She notices but presses on, her voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and regret. “My manager at the time… he was a kind man. At least, I thought he was. I don’t know if he pitied me or if his feelings were genuine, but... one thing led to another, and we fell in love.”

She pauses, exhaling softly. “For a while, everything was perfect. You were thriving in school, my bank account wasn’t empty anymore, and for the first time in years, I felt like a woman again... like someone who was cared for. I even thought about introducing him to you, about telling you that I’d found someone who made me happy.”

Her expression darkens slightly, the corners of her lips twitching downward. “But all of that changed one night. I was working late, staying overtime to finish a project. I stepped out to the coffee room for a quick break, and on my way back, I heard noises coming from one of the conference rooms. It sounded... strange... like someone was yelling.”

Jungkook feels his chest tighten, the anticipation growing as his mother’s voice lowers, tinged with unease. “I got curious and peeked in. What I saw... I still... I still wish I hadn’t. My manager... the man I thought I wanted to build a future with... was berating an employee." she pauses, letting out a soft breath.

"But it wasn’t just yelling. It was violent. He was shoving the employee, slamming papers onto the desk, threatening them. At first, I thought it was a one-off, maybe a moment of stress. But the more I watched, the uglier it got. He was kicking their knees, smacking their face, saying vile things like they were less than human.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides. “Did you... did you saying anything back then?” he asks quietly.

“I should've... but I didn't because honestly, I wasn’t sure what I’d seen... ” she replies, her voice steady but heavy with the weight of the memory. “But something inside me told me it wasn’t an isolated incident. So I started paying attention. Watching him. Watching others in the company. And, Kook... it wasn’t just him.”

Her gaze drops to her hands, now gripping the edge of the plate in her lap. “It was everywhere around the company. Managers and higher-ups abusing their authority, taking advantage of their employees. Screaming at them, humiliating them, even threatening to ruin their careers. And worse... when I started digging deeper, I found financial misconduct, embezzlement, and exploitation.”

Jungkook feels the air grow thick with the gravity of her words. “I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. So, I started collecting evidence... voice recordings, videos, emails. Anything I could use to expose them. And eventually... I did.”

She smiles faintly, but it’s laced with bitterness. “I went to the authorities anonymously and leaked everything. At first, it seemed like justice might prevail. The company took a massive hit, and several higher-ups were investigated. But it didn’t end there.”

“What... what happened?” Jungkook whispers, his voice trembling.

“The company was owned by a powerful, influential family and the scandal bothered them... a lot.” she explains, her tone growing quieter and Jungkook immediately knows who she's referring to.

“It didn’t take the company long to figure out who had leaked the information. And when they did... everything came back to me. The media had a field day. My name was dragged through the mud. People called me unprofessional, accused me of sleeping with my manager to gain favors. They twisted everything to make me look like the villain.”

Her voice cracks slightly, but she takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “I didn’t care about my reputation, Kook. But I cared about you. I was terrified that you’d be dragged into it, that kids at your school would bully you, that your life would change because of my actions. And I couldn’t let that happen. So, with what little savings I had left, I made the decision to leave. To move far away, to a place where I could give you a better future. It was hasty, yes, but looking back... I don’t regret it... at all. I’d do it again to protect you.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens, his chest aching as he watches the quiet strength in his mother’s face. Her sacrifices, her pain... it all begins to make sense, to sink in, piece by piece. “Ma... I didn’t know...” he murmurs, his voice breaking.

“I never wanted you to.” she replies, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “All I ever wanted was for you to have a life free from the burdens I carried. And if I had to do it all over again, Kook, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

Jungkook feels his vision blur with tears, and before he can stop himself, he leans forward, pulling his mother into a tight hug. His arms tremble as they wrap around her, and he buries his face into her shoulder, letting out the sobs he'd been holding back.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Mom." he cries, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His mother strokes his back gently, her touch soothing even as her own tears threaten to spill. "Oh, sweetheart, don’t be sorry." she chuckles, her voice soft yet steady. "You don’t need to apologize for anything."

A few quiet seconds pass. "You know... I really thought she was the one." Jungkook whispers. "But it... it just got too much. I tried so hard to be strong... no matter how much her mother tried to walk all over me." He pulls his mother closer, his grip tightening as his emotions spill over.

"I love her so much, Ma." he cries, burying his face against her shoulder. "But now... I just... I just want to go home." His voice drops to a quiet murmur.

His mother says nothing, holding him still, her presence grounding him as he clings to the one person who has always been there.

They stay like that, wrapped in an embrace that feels timeless. Jungkook feels like a child again, sheltered in the safety of his mother’s arms, a refuge against the storm raging in his heart. The room falls silent except for the soft hum of their breaths, the world outside momentarily forgotten.

Eventually, his mother shifts, gently pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. She cups his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears that streak his cheeks. Her lips curve into a soft, loving smile, though her eyes glisten.

"I may not have had much luck in love..." she begins, her tone tender. "But you, Kook… you don’t have to carry that fear. You’re not me."

Jungkook blinks at her, his sniffles the only sound breaking the stillness as she continues. "I know this is a lot to take in. And I know things have unfolded in ways neither of us ever wanted." she says.

"But you’re stronger than you think. And you deserve to let yourself love, even if it feels terrifying." She pauses, letting her words settle. Then, after a moment, she smiles again, her voice soft but purposeful.

"You know… Y/n was the one who called me and brought me here." she reveals. Jungkook’s brows knit in surprise, but he stays silent, his eyes searching hers. "That girl… she cares about you so much, Jungkook. More than I think you even realize."

Her smile falters slightly, replaced by a solemn look. "I know it’s hard." she says. "Facing her, facing everything after what’s happened... it’s not easy. And knowing the challenges her family brings into the picture… it must feel overwhelming."

Jungkook lowers his gaze, his hands curling into fists in his lap. His mother reaches out, gently covering one of his hands with her own, her touch warm and reassuring. "But shutting her out, ignoring her... that will only hurt her." she says. "And it’ll hurt you even more."

Her words feel like a lifeline, cutting through the fog clouding his mind. He looks up at her, his heart aching at the sincerity in her expression. There’s no judgment in her eyes... only love, hope, and unwavering belief in him.

"You don’t have to worry about me anymore." she continues, her voice soft but firm. "I’ll be okay, Kook. I’ve made my peace with the past."

She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "So do what your heart tells you." she whispers, her voice filled with gentle conviction.

"If you still want to go back, I’ll understand. But I still think you should go and talk to her, before we go."

Jungkook closes his eyes, letting her words sink in, and for the first time in days, he feels the faintest flicker of clarity, a spark of hope amid the chaos.

//

The cool evening breeze brushes past your hair as you gaze down at the glimmering water, the rippling reflections of streetlights dancing on the surface of the tranquil sincheon river. The world around you feels quiet, yet your chest churns with restlessness.

Jungkook had finally reached out. He had called. And you had begged him to meet you. You needed to see him because frankly, you were practically unraveling without him.

Now, here you are, waiting by the walking trail that winds along the river. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you lift your gaze up to the sky. The sun has long set, but its remnants linger, smearing the horizon with hues of violet and amber, like a bruise spreading across the heavens.

You're nervous, scared even. You don’t know what you’re going to say or what he might have to tell you. You just hope that his mother, whom you had called in desperation, was able to ease some of the burden you knew he was carrying.

Your mind is a chaotic swirl of emotions, tangled in fear and anticipation but the sound of approaching footsteps halts the train of your thoughts. You whip around, your heart leaping to your throat. And there he is. Your boyfriend.

His presence seems to anchor you and unmoor you at once. Your breath catches as you take in his appearance... he looks drained, exhausted. His eyes are shadowed by evident dark circles, and his shoulders droop with a weariness that tugs painfully at your chest.

All you want to do is pull him close, to hold him, to protect him. Without hesitation, you do just that.

"Baby... oh my god." you breathe out, your voice trembling as you jog up to him. Wrapping your arms around his frame, you cling to him tightly, pressing your face against his chest. His familiar scent, warm and grounding, fills your senses. "I missed you." you whisper.

His arms move just as quickly, circling your waist with the same desperate fervor, holding you as though letting go might shatter him. "I missed you too." he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The warmth of his breath grazes the curve of your neck, and in that moment, something inside you unravels... a knot of fear and longing dissolves into the solace of his embrace.

The world around you melts away, leaving only the sound of the river lapping gently and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

The two of you stay entwined in that embrace and minutes stretch into something timeless, and slowly, reluctantly, you open your eyes and carefully pull away. Your gaze meets his, and the weight of your emotions crashes over you like a tidal wave. Tears spring to your eyes, unbidden.

“Kook... I’m sorry.” you begin, your voice trembling as your lip quivers. “I’m sorry for everything. I don’t know what my mom was thinking—” Your words catch, a sob escaping your chest, breaking through the dam you’ve tried to hold steady.

“Hey...” Jungkook breathes out gently, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His thumbs brush away your tears, though they continue rolling down your cheek. “It’s okay.” he whispers, his voice steady yet tender, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

But you shake your head, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry for everything, Kook. I really am.” you choke out, your voice cracking under the weight of your regret.

“It’s not your fault.” he murmurs, his dark eyes searching yours, shimmering with his own restrained emotions. “Shhh...” he hushes you, pulling you close again.

His embrace is solid, a haven, and you wonder how someone can carry so much grace. Even now, when he should be the one comforted, he holds you together.

The tears spill freely as you bury yourself in his arms, your body trembling against his. Jungkook’s hands move gently along your back, his touch rhythmic and calming. “This past week... it’s been so hard, Kook. I missed you so much.” you manage between sobs, your voice cracking.

Jungkook feels his heart splintering, guilt threading its way through him. He tightens his hold on you, his own breath hitching as he battles the storm inside. He knows he hurt you by shutting you out, but at the time, it felt like the only way he could cope. He was drowning too.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to see your face. His hand stays warm against your damp cheek, his thumb gliding across the soft curve of your cheekbone.

When your teary eyes lock with his, something magnetic draws you closer. You tilt your head upward, closing your eyes, and press your lips to his in a kiss that feels like both an apology and a plea.

Jungkook responds instantly, his lips meeting yours with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. His hands anchor you in place, one cradling your jaw while the other settles at your waist.

The kiss deepens, raw and full of unspoken emotions, and you can feel in the way his lips move against yours just how much he’s missed you, too.

When he finally pulls back, breathless, his chest rises and falls rapidly. “I’m sorry I shut you out...” he exhales.

You shake your head quickly. “No, Kook. You had every reason to. What my mom did... it was unforgivable. She had no right to come at you like that... and... and disrespect you like that.”

Stepping back slightly, you look up at him, your hands still resting lightly on his chest. “I had no idea she’d been scheming all of this behind my back. When I brought you here, I just... I wanted to introduce you to my family because you’re so important to me. You’re everything to me.” Your voice softens, but your words are laced with an ache that refuses to go away.

“I should’ve seen it coming, though. The first time she was rude to you in the kitchen, I should’ve taken the hint. I should’ve warned her to stay out of this.”

He exhales deeply, the sound heavy with a mix of resignation and lingering pain. Slowly, he moves past you as he edges closer to the riverbank.

"I knew she never liked me..." he starts, his voice low, carrying the weight of a truth he’s held in for too long. "It was so obvious. She didn’t even try to hide it." A humorless chuckle escapes his lips, but it’s laced with pain, not mirth.

You follow him quietly, closing the distance, until you’re standing right next to him. The cold bites at your cheeks, but the ache in his voice hurts even more.

Together, you gaze at the dark river ahead, the water shimmering faintly under the moonlight and the surrounding streetlights.

"A part of me understood her..." he continues, turning his head slightly towards you. His eyes, glistening but guarded, meet yours for a fleeting moment before he looks away. "She had every right to be worried. I mean… I’m dating her daughter. Of course, she’d be protective."

You hold his gaze briefly but remain silent, sensing he needs to say more.

"Maybe she doubted my intentions..." he admits, his tone soft but raw, like he’s peeling back layers of himself for you. "Maybe she thought I could never be good enough for you." His shoulders rise in a small shrug, his expression distant.

"All of that… it’s valid. I could accept it, you know? I would’ve tried. Tried to prove myself to her, even if it felt impossible."

He stops, his jaw tightening as he stares at the water. The moonlight catches on his profile, illuminating the subtle tremor in his lips as he fights to hold himself back from brutally cracking open.

"But when she brought up my mother..." His voice wavers, and he turns his face away, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. "She said she didn’t want to be linked to a family like mine. And that…" He exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the memory. "That broke me."

You feel your chest tighten at his words, your heart aching for the pain he’s trying so hard to contain. He doesn’t need to explain further because you already understand what he's trying to say.

"Kook..." you call out softly, inching closer and placing a gentle hand on his arm. "She was so so wrong... so wrong. And it wasn’t fair to you at all."

He turns his head slightly, his gaze flickering to yours, the sadness in his eyes now tinged with something else... perhaps relief at being seen, or maybe the fact that he can finally open up.

"And I’m done." you say, your voice firmer now, though it still trembles at the edges. "I’m done making excuses for her. For her actions, for the way she treated you, for the way she handled things."

You reach out with your other hand, cupping his jaw and guiding his face towards you. His eyes, meet yours fully now. "Kook..." you whisper, your breath hitching as his name falls from your lips.

"Your past, what your mom did, my reputation… none of that matters to me. It never has, and it never will." Your thumb gently grazes his cheek, and you see the tension in his jaw loosen, ever so slightly. "All that matters to me is you."

His lips part as if to respond, but the words seem to fail him. You press on, your voice shaking with sincerity.

"You matter so much to me..." you confess, your heart pounding as you take another step closer, until there’s no space left between you. "And I’m ready to leave all of this behind... I'm ready to walk out of everything if it means I can be with you. None... of this matters without you."

He looks down at you, his brows furrowing as he tries to process the enormity of your words. His chest rises and falls heavily under your touch, his breath warm against the cool night air.

"Let’s start over." you say, your voice soft but resolute. "Let’s start a new life together in New York... our home. That’s where we belong, Kook. That’s where I belong. With you."

Your words hang in the air, suspended between the two of you, and you can feel the shift in him... his walls crumbling under the weight of what you're saying.

"Let's elope, Kook."

<- part 6 // final ->

series masterlist

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