#He deserves 1 million notes

[somegrumpynerd]

YOU TOO 😭😭😭😭💀💀💀💀 WHY ARE FAMOUS PPL REBLOGING MY ART 😭😭😭😭

WHAT DO YOU MEAN FAMOUS I AM JUST A LITTLE RAT!!!

Anyway it's your fault for drawing Color so cute!!

[rvp32]

Falling for the Unknown Part 2

Karina x reader

Part 1

Thank you so much msafterhours and kesujo for proofreading

Karina stands in the quiet of the Seoul night, the distant hum of the city a faint backdrop to the storm of emotions swirling within her. Months ago, she had been Jimin again—not the polished idol, not the face of a million posters, but just Jimin—tangled in sheets and your arms, her heart pounding with a freedom she rarely feels. That night, she lets herself drown in you, in the way you look at her like she is everything, not just a fragment of a spotlight. But as dawn creeps closer, reality claws its way back in, cold and unrelenting.

She remembers slipping out of your embrace, your steady breathing contrasting the chaos in her mind. Her phone buzzes incessantly on the nightstand—schedules, rehearsals, a looming comeback. Her groupmates count on her, their dreams intertwined with hers, and the weight of that responsibility presses down like a vice. She stands by the bed, watching you sleep, your face soft and unguarded, and her chest aches with a longing she cannot indulge. He doesn’t deserve this, she thinks. Dragging you, a non-celebrity with a life untouched by the madness of her world, into the relentless scrutiny, the rumors, the suffocating expectations, would be cruel. She imagines a future where you resent her for it, where the spark between you dulls under the glare of her reality, and it breaks her.

So she leaves. A whispered thank you scribbled on a note is all she manages, a fragile apology for cutting herself out of your life. She wants to stay—God, how she wants to stay—curled against you, pretending the world outside doesn’t exist. But she turns away, slipping back into Karina, the idol, the untouchable star, and buries that night deep where it cannot hurt her. Or so she thinks.

Now, standing outside the stadium after the halftime performance, the past rushed back with a vengeance. She’d seen you on the sideline, your eyes wide with recognition, and her carefully constructed mask had cracked. The dance moves had felt mechanical after that, her mind spinning with the shock of your presence. You were here, in her world, and the distance she’d forced between you felt like a wound reopening.

The air between you and Jimin crackles with tension as you face each other, the stadium’s noise fading into a dull hum. She’s close enough that you can see the faint tremble in her hands, the way her eyes dart nervously before settling on yours. The months apart haven’t dulled the pull you feel toward her—it’s sharper now, edged with the pain of her absence. You want to step forward, to pull her into your arms and kiss her until the questions and the hurt melt away, but you hold yourself back, fists clenched at your sides. She left you once, and the fear of reaching out only to lose her again keeps you rooted.

Her lips part, then close, as if she’s searching for words she’s scared of saying. Her voice was soft but strained, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. Your throat tightens, and you force a nod, the memory of that empty bed and her note flashing through your mind.

“Yeah,” you manage, your tone clipped despite the storm raging inside you. “Guess the universe has a cruel sense of humor.” You want to ask why she left, why she didn’t fight for you, but the words stick, tangled in the ache of wanting her so badly it hurts. She can't seem to meet your eyes fully, darting back and forth, meeting your gaze and flickering back onto the ground, in an endless, restless cycle. In the corner of her eyes, you can see her grip on her arm tightening, her feet shuffling every so often: there's an impatience about her, something about your presence that seems to make her uneasy, and while it makes you feel bad in more ways than one, it also arouses within you an urge to hold her—and it only makes the urge to hold her stronger, your resolve fraying with every second she stands there, so close yet untouchable. 

The silence stretches, thick and awkward, as you and Jimin stand there, the weight of months apart pressing down on you both. You shift your weight, she fidgets with the hem of her hoodie, and then—

“Why did you—” you start, just as she says, “I didn’t mean—”

You both freeze, a nervous laugh escaping her lips while you rub the back of your neck. “You go first,” you say, gesturing toward her, your voice softer than you intend.

Jimin opens her mouth, her expression shifting to something vulnerable, but before a word can escape, a sharp voice cuts through the tension. “Karina, we need to go. The van’s waiting.” A man—broad-shouldered, clipboard in hand, with the unmistakable air of a manager—approaches, his tone brisk. Her face tightens, and she glances at him, then back at you, a flicker of frustration in her eyes.

“I—” she starts, then stops, turning fully to you. “Can I have your number? I want to talk. Really talk.” Her voice is low and urgent, and you nod quickly, fumbling for your phone. You exchange numbers in a rush, her fingers brushing yours as she hands it back, sending a jolt through you.

“Text me,” she says, her gaze lingering as the manager huffs impatiently. Then she’s gone, swept away by her world, leaving you standing there, heart racing.

*************************************************************************************************************

Later that night, you text her: When are you free? Her reply comes fast—Tomorrow, late. After midnight. Can we meet somewhere private? You suggest your hotel room, knowing the risk of being spotted together could spark chaos. She agrees, and the hours crawl by until the clock ticks past midnight.

A soft knock pulls you from your restless pacing. You open the door, and there she is—Jimin, or Karina, or whoever she is tonight—slipping inside, hood up, eyes wary but searching. You close the door behind her, and the room feels smaller, the air charged with everything unsaid.

“Hey,” she says, pulling down her hood, her hair spilling loose. She looks softer here, away from the stadium lights, but there’s a tension in her shoulders you can’t ignore.

“Hey,” you echo, leaning against the desk, arms crossed to keep your hands from reaching for her. “So… talk.”

She takes a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed, her fingers twisting together. “I owe you an explanation. About that night. About… me.” She meets your gaze, and there’s a rawness there that makes your chest tighten. “I’m Karina from Aespa. That’s my real life—stages, schedules, cameras. That night, with you, I was just Jimin. For once, I got to be someone else.”

You blink, the pieces clicking into place—her disappearance, the secrecy, the note. “You’re an idol,” you say, more to yourself than to her, running a hand through your hair. “And I’m—well, I guess I should tell you too. I’m not just some random guy. I play for Manchester United. Midfielder. Just got back from injury.”

“Guess we were both hiding something,” you say, a wry smile tugging at your lips. But it fades as the real question looms. “Why’d you leave, Jimin? That night—it felt real. Then I woke up, and you were gone. Just a note. ‘Thank you.’ Like it was nothing.”

Her face falls, guilt shadowing her features. “It wasn’t nothing. It was everything. That’s why I left.” She looks down, voice trembling. “I wanted to stay so badly. You have no idea how much. But I had rehearsals at dawn, a comeback to prepare for. My groupmates—they depend on me. And you… you didn’t sign up for my mess. The fans, the cameras, the chaos. I thought dragging you into that would ruin you.”

You step closer, unable to stop yourself, though you still don’t touch her. “You didn’t even give me a choice. I woke up thinking I’d dreamed you up, Jimin. That note—it broke me.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I hated myself for it. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just scared. Scared of what I felt, scared of what it’d do to you. I didn’t want you to hate me later.”

“I could never hate you,” you say, your voice rough with the truth of it. “I’ve been looking for you ever since. Every day, wondering where you went, why you didn’t trust me enough to stay.”

She stands, closing the distance between you, her hands hovering near your chest before settling there, tentative. “I trust you now. I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you— I left because I cared, no, I care about you and was worried about pulling you into a life you never chose to live. I thought it was the right thing, but it wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

You look into her eyes, seeing the regret, the longing, and it cracks your restraint. “I wanted you too,” you admit, voice low. “Still do.” Your hands twitch, aching to hold her, but you wait, letting her words settle, the misunderstanding unraveling like a knot finally loosened.

The air in the room thickens with the weight of your confessions, the space between you and Karina—Jimin—shrinking as her hands rest lightly on your chest. Her touch is hesitant, but it burns through you, reigniting every buried feeling from that night. Her apology lingers in your ears, her eyes searching yours for forgiveness, for understanding, and you can’t hold back anymore.

You cup her face gently, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones, and she leans into your touch, her breath hitching. “Jimin,” you murmur, her name a tether pulling you closer, and then you kiss her. It’s slow at first, tentative, a question answered as her lips part beneath yours, soft and warm and so achingly familiar. The intimacy of it steals your breath—her taste, the way she melts against you, her fingers curling into your shirt like she’s afraid you’ll vanish. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a reclamation, a stitching together of everything torn apart by her absence.

You deepen it, one hand sliding to the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair as you tilt her head just so, and she responds with a quiet whimper that sends a shiver down your spine. Her lips move with yours in perfect sync, a dance of longing and relief, and you pour every missed moment into it—the nights you wondered, the days you ached. She presses closer, her body fitting against yours like it never left, and the world outside fades until it’s just her, just you, just this.

You pull back slightly, needing to see her, to ground yourself in the reality of her here in your arms. Your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling as you stare into her eyes. They’re dark, endless, shimmering with something raw—regret, desire, hope. Her pupils dilate, her gaze flicking to your lips and back, and you see the moment she breaks. “I missed you,” she whispers, voice trembling, and it’s all the warning you get before she moves.

Jimin shifts with feline grace, climbing onto your lap in a single fluid motion that steals the air from your lungs. You’re still perched near the coffee table, its sharp edge grazing your knee as she straddles you, her toned thighs bracketing your hips with a firm, possessive grip. Her hands cradle your face, fingertips trembling faintly against your jaw, and then she dives in—kissing you with a raw, insatiable hunger that obliterates your thoughts. Her lips crash against yours, hot and urgent, and you groan into her mouth, a deep, primal sound that vibrates between you. Your hands snap to her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath her hoodie as you yank her closer, her body molding seamlessly to yours.

The weight of her atop you—the delicious press of her lithe, warm frame against your chest—ignites a wildfire in your veins. She rocks subtly, a teasing shift of her hips that sends a dizzying rush through you, and your hands glide up her back, tracing the elegant curve of her spine. Beneath the fabric, her skin is satin-smooth, her muscles flexing faintly as she moves. Her tongue brushes yours—tentative at first, then bold and demanding—and the kiss turns sloppy, a chaotic dance of lips, teeth, and breathless need. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she gasps between kisses, her voice fracturing with desire as she grinds down harder, the friction of her pelvis against your growing erection sparking a heat that threatens to unravel you both.

You pull her flush against you, fingers sinking into the plush give of her hips, anchoring her as you lose yourself in her essence—the sweet, faintly salty taste of her lips, the press of her boobs against your chest, the soft whimpers she muffles against your mouth. It’s intoxicating, the way she fits so perfectly in your lap, her slender frame a puzzle piece slotting into yours. Her kisses carry the weight of every moment she’s been gone, a desperate reclamation of what distance stole.

The kiss deepens, a tangle of ragged breaths and clashing tongues, and the ache of missing her for months surges through you like a tidal wave. Karina’s hands grip your face tighter, her nails grazing your skin as she straddles you, her thighs flexing with each restless shift. You can feel the heat pouring off her, the damp warmth seeping through her shorts where she presses against your straining cock. It’s not enough—nowhere near enough. You need her closer, need to dissipate every inch of separation time carved between you.

Your hands slide beneath her thighs, firm and possessive, gripping the taut muscle as you stand in one swift motion. She gasps softly against your lips, a startled little sound that melts into a moan as you lift her effortlessly. Her legs wrap around your waist, locking tight, her ankles hooking at the small of your back. You don’t break the kiss—not for a heartbeat—as you carry her toward the bed, her fingers digging into your shoulders with a needy intensity. Her lips stay fused to yours, hungry and unrelenting, and you stumble slightly, too consumed by her to care about grace. The mattress edge bumps your knees, and you lower her onto it, her lithe body sinking into the sheets as you follow, hovering over her, your forearms braced on either side of her head.

“God, I missed you,” you murmur against her lips, your voice rough with the aching truth of it, and she arches up, her chest pressing into yours. Her hands claw at your shirt, tugging insistently, and you pull back just enough to rip it over your head, tossing it aside. Her eyes darken as they roam over your bare chest, drinking in the hard planes of muscle, the faint scars. Her fingers trace the lines of your pecs, then lower, mapping you like she’s relearning every inch.

“I missed you too,” she breathes, her voice trembling with the same pent-up longing that’s been gnawing at you. She sits up, peeling her hoodie off in one smooth motion, revealing the expanse of her smooth, golden skin and a simple black bra that clings to her round, firm breasts. Her nipples pebble faintly beneath the fabric, and your hands are on her instantly, sliding up her sides, savoring the warmth radiating from her. She shivers under your touch, her breath hitching as your thumbs brush the sensitive skin just below her ribcage.

You kiss her again, slower this time but no less desperate, your tongue teasing hers in a languid, deliberate dance as you ease her back onto the bed. Her hands roam your back, nails grazing lightly over your shoulder blades, leaving faint, tingling trails. You trail your lips down her jaw, then her neck, tasting the salt of her skin as you go. She tilts her head, offering more, and you linger at her collarbone, sucking gently until a faint, rosy mark blooms beneath your mouth—a quiet claim. “Mine,” you whisper, half to yourself, and she moans softly, her fingers threading through your hair, tugging just enough to send a spark of pleasure-pain down your spine.

“Not fair,” she murmurs, a playful lilt cutting through the heat in her voice. She pulls you down, her lips finding the taut skin just below your collarbone. Her mouth is searing, deliberate as she kisses the spot, then sucks hard, her tongue flicking against you. The sensation jolts through you—sharp and electric—and you groan, your cock twitching in your jeans as her teeth graze your skin, leaving a bruise to mirror hers. She pulls back, smirking at her handiwork, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes, and you grin back—until the primal urge to touch her overtakes you again.

You ease her onto her back, hands roaming her flat stomach, teasing the waistband of her shorts. “You’re too much,” you say, voice low and teasing as you pop the button open, dragging the zipper down with excruciating slowness. She lifts her hips, helping you peel the denim away, and you take your time, letting your fingers skim the silken insides of her thighs—soft yet firm, trembling faintly under your touch. You stop just shy of her core, and her breath catches, her legs parting slightly as she whines, “Stop teasing.”

“Not yet,” you reply, smirking as you lean down, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of her inner thigh. You move higher, closer, your breath ghosting over her warmth, and her hips buck, chasing your mouth. Her chest heaves, her round breasts rising and falling rapidly, frustration simmering in her half-lidded eyes. You slide her panties down, revealing her glistening core—pink and slick with want—and the sight makes your throat tighten, your cock aching painfully against your jeans. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” you say, voice raw with hunger, and you dip your head, kissing just above her clit, teasing her with the faintest brush of your lips.

“Please,” she gasps, her hands fisting the sheets, knuckles whitening, and you relent—just a little. Your tongue flicks out, tracing her slowly, savoring her sweet, musky taste as her body trembles beneath you. She’s warm and wet, and every shuddering moan she lets out stokes the fire in your gut. You circle her clit, deliberate and torturous, sucking gently until she’s writhing, her voice breaking on your name in a desperate, jagged plea.

When you finally pull back, she’s panting, her eyes glassy with need. You shed your pants and boxers in a frantic rush, climbing back over her, and she drags you down, kissing you fiercely, tasting herself on your lips. “I need you,” she whispers, her legs wrapping around your hips, pulling you close. You tease her one last time, sliding your cock along her entrance, coating yourself in her slick heat, and she groans, her nails biting into your back hard enough to leave crescent marks.

“Missed you so fucking much,” you growl, and then you push inside her, slow and deep. The sensation is overwhelming—her tight, wet heat envelops you, her walls fluttering around your shaft as you stretch her open. She cries out, her head tipping back into the pillow, exposing the delicate column of her throat, and you feel her pulse racing beneath your lips as you bury your face in her neck. “Jimin,” you groan, starting to move, each thrust a visceral reminder of how much you’ve craved her—how much you’ve needed this.

She meets you thrust for thrust, her hips rising to match your rhythm, her moans loud and unrestrained, filling the room. “Harder,” she gasps, her voice raw with desperation, and you oblige, slamming into her with a force that makes the bedframe creak. Her body arches beneath you, her breasts pressing into your chest as you grip her thighs, spreading her wider. The angle lets you hit deeper, your cock brushing that spot inside her that draws a scream from her lips, sharp and uninhibited. “Yes—fuck, just like that,” she pants, her words ragged, her face flushed and glistening with sweat.

You pull her up slightly, shifting so she’s half-sitting, and kiss her again—messy, deep, all tongue and clashing teeth—as you drive into her relentlessly. Her hands clutch your shoulders, her breath scorching against your lips, and you feel her tightening around you, her walls pulsing with every thrust. “I’m so close,” she whimpers, her voice breaking, and you push harder, your own release coiling tight in your core as her body trembles on the brink.

When she cums, it’s with a cry of your name, her body shuddering violently beneath you. Her walls clamp down around your cock, milking you as she unravels, her eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. The sight—her flushed cheeks, her arched back, the raw vulnerability of her pleasure—shatters you. You groan, spilling inside her, the pleasure crashing through you in blinding waves as your cock pulses, filling her with heat. You hold her tight, riding out the aftershocks together, your breaths mingling in the stillness.

You collapse against her, both of you sweaty and breathless, and she clings to you, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “I’m never leaving again.” Her voice is soft, shaky, but certain, and it sends a warmth through you that has nothing to do with the sex.

You pull back just enough to kiss the mark you left on her collarbone, then press your forehead to hers, your noses brushing as the afterglow settles over you like a second skin. The world narrows to this—the quiet rhythm of her breathing, the steady beat of her heart against yours, and the unspoken promise hanging in the air.

*************************************************************************************************************

The morning light filters through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a gentle glow across the bed where you lie, still wrapped in the warmth of last night’s passion. You stir awake, the weight of Karina’s arms around you pulling you back to reality. Her grip is tight, almost desperate, her fingers curled into your side as if she’s afraid you’ll slip away like she once did. It’s a silent plea, a fear mirrored in the way her body presses against yours, her chest rising and falling steadily in sleep. You can feel the tension in her hold, and it tugs at your heart—a reminder of how much she’s been carrying, how much she fears losing you again.

You shift slightly, careful not to wake her, and take a moment to admire her. Her face, inches from yours, is a vision of serenity, illuminated by the soft light. Her dark hair fans out across the pillow, framing her delicate features—those almond-shaped eyes, closed now but still vivid in your memory, framed by thick lashes that curl gently against her cheeks. Her skin glows, smooth and flawless, with a subtle flush that lingers from the night before. Her lips, full and slightly parted, are a soft pink, still swollen from your kisses, and the beauty mark near the corner of her mouth catches your eye, a perfect detail in her otherwise ethereal face. Her high cheekbones and sharp jawline, softened by sleep, are as striking as the poised idol you saw on stage, but here, in this quiet moment, she’s just Jimin—vulnerable, real, and breathtakingly beautiful.

You can’t resist reaching out, your fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to her forehead. The contact is light, but it stirs her. Her brows furrow slightly as her eyes flutter open. She blinks, disoriented, and her grip on you tightens for a moment before relaxing as recognition dawns.

“Good morning,” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips as you lean in to kiss her, craving the taste of her again. But she turns her head away, her cheek pressing into the pillow, a shy giggle escaping her.

“No, wait—” she mumbles, her voice groggy but playful, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Morning breath.”

You chuckle, the sound warm and genuine, and you gently cup her face, turning her back toward you. “I don’t care,” you say, your voice soft but firm, and before she can protest again, you kiss her. It’s slow and sweet, her lips hesitant at first but softening under yours, the taste of her—morning breath or not—exactly what you’ve been craving since she walked back into your life. She melts into it, her arms loosening their grip to wrap around your neck, and you pull her closer, the laughter fading into a shared, quiet intimacy that feels like coming home.

The morning lingers in comfortable silence, the warmth of your kiss fading into a gentle closeness as you both lie tangled in the sheets. Jimin shifts beside you, propping herself up on one elbow. Her dark hair falls over her shoulder as she looks at you with those captivating eyes. “What if we went on a date today?” she suggests her voice soft but laced with excitement. “Just the two of us.”

You hesitate, the image of paparazzi flashes, and headlines flash through your mind. “I don’t know, Jimin,” you say, your tone cautious. “I’d love to, but… what if someone sees us? I don’t want to cause trouble for you—your career, your group. It’s risky.”

Her expression softens, and she reaches out, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “I get it, I do. But I’ve spent months hiding, running from this—from us. I don’t want to do that anymore. I’ve noticed some llittle spots that linger in my mind, and I catch myself picturing us there, sharing quiet moments. And the other day, a film played on the flight, its warmth sticking with me, making me think of us tucked away together, enjoying the story. We can be careful. There’s a private restaurant I know, with private rooms. No one will see us. Please?” Her plea is earnest, her eyes pleading, and the way she looks at you—vulnerable yet determined—chips away at your reluctance.

After a moment, you nod, a small smile breaking through. “Okay. Let’s do it. Private restaurant it is.”

*************************************************************************************************************

Later that evening, you’re seated across from her in a secluded room, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on the walls. The table is small and intimate, and the door is locked behind you, ensuring your privacy. The meal—delicate Korean dishes served with care—sits mostly untouched as the conversation deepens, the food secondary to the connection reigniting between you.

Karina leans forward, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze steady but emotional. “You know,” she begins, her voice low and sincere, “you make me feel so safe. Like I can breathe, even with all the chaos in my life. That night we spent together—it wasn’t just passion for me. It was the first time I felt like I could be myself, not Karina the idol, but Jimin. And then I left, and I missed you every single day. The way you looked at me, the way you held me—it haunted me. I can’t believe I almost gave this up because I was too scared. Too scared of what people might think, of what it might do to you. I was wrong.”

Her words hit you hard, stirring your longing since she disappeared. You reach across the table, your hand hovering over hers before you gently take it, your thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I missed you too,” you admit, your voice rough with emotion. “More than I can say. And I don’t want to lose you again.” You pause, the question burning in your chest, and before you can overthink it, you blurt out, “Jimin—Karina—will you be my girlfriend?”

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she doesn’t respond, her lips parting as if searching for words. The silence stretches, and panic creeps in. “I know it’s quick and random, and maybe I’m rushing this,” you ramble, your free hand running through your hair. “But I don’t want to let you go. I’ve spent too long wondering where you were, and now that you’re here, I—”

She cuts you off with a laugh, bright and melodic, her head tilting back as she squeezes your hand. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous,” she teases, her eyes sparkling with affection. Then her expression softens, and she leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that feels like a promise. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend. With you, I feel like I’ve found a home I didn’t know I needed—a place where I can be me, fully and without fear. I want to build this with you, step by step, through every hidden room and stolen moment, because you’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

Her words wrap around you, warm and romantic. You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling as you gently kiss her hand.

*************************************************************************************************************

Over the next few days of Manchester United’s tour in South Korea, you and Karina carve out stolen moments in secret places, each date a cherished escape from the world. You meet her at a hidden rooftop garden in Gangnam, the city lights sprawling below as you share whispered conversations and soft kisses under the stars. Another night, you sneak into a private hanok courtyard in Bukchon, the traditional wooden walls shielding you as you hold hands and laugh over shared street food. You even manage a late-night stroll through a secluded trail in Namsan Mountain’s forest, the darkness cloaking you both as you steal glances and brush against each other, the air filled with the scent of pine and her perfume. Every second with her feels like a gift—her laughter lights up your world, her touch grounds you, and the way she looks at you, unguarded and real, makes you forget the looming end of your time together.

But the final day arrives, inevitable and heavy. You’re at the airport, your team already boarding for the flight back to Manchester, and Karina stands before you in a quiet corner of the terminal, her hoodie pulled low to avoid recognition. Your chest tightens as you pull her into a hug, her arms wrapping around you with a desperation that mirrors your own. “I don’t want to go,” you murmur into her hair, the words raw and honest, but you both know it’s not something you can change—not with her comeback looming and your season about to start. She pulls back, her eyes glistening but resolute, and presses a lingering kiss to your lips, a silent promise that this isn’t the end, even as you step away, the ache of leaving her settling deep in your bones.

Karina watches as you disappear through the airport gate, your figure swallowed by the crowd until there is nothing left but the echo of your goodbye in her heart. The weight of your departure crashes over her the moment you are out of sight, and tears spill down her cheeks, unchecked, as she makes her way back to the van. The ride to the dorm blurs into a haze of quiet sobs, her hands trembling as she presses them to her face, unable to believe how deeply she has let herself fall for you. In just a few stolen days, you weave yourself into her soul—your laughter, your touch, the way you make her feel safe—and now the emptiness suffocates her.

When she finally reaches her room, the door clicking shut behind her, she drops her bag and moves instinctively to her bed. Her fingers find the tiger cub toy you won for her at the bustling street market. Its soft fur is a tangible reminder of your grin as you hand it to her. She clutches it tightly to her chest, curling into a ball as fresh tears soak into its surface. Then, reaching for the hoodie she slyly took from you—a bold theft masked by a playful kiss—she pulls it over her head. The fabric envelops her, carrying your scent—earthy, warm, and unmistakably you—and she buries her face in the collar, inhaling deeply. It is a poor substitute for your presence, but it wraps her in a fragile comfort, easing the ache just enough to let her drift into a restless sleep, dreaming of the next time she sees you.

Karina knows she misses this—misses the rare, unguarded moments where she sheds the weight of her public persona and simply is. She misses the freedom of her truest self blooming in your presence, unfurling like a flower kissed by dawn after a long, cold night. Most of all, she misses you—misses the way you see through the layers she has so carefully crafted for the world, peering straight into her soul with those warm, knowing eyes. Even after she bares her deepest secret, confessing the identity she hides behind the spotlight, you never waver. You still call her Jimin, her name falling from your lips like a soft, cherished melody, untouched by the chaos of her fame.

She adores how it sounds in your voice—smooth and tender, a quiet caress that wraps around her heart each time you speak it. “Jimin,” you say, the syllables rolling off your tongue with a reverence that makes her feel seen, truly seen, not as an idol or a symbol, but as the woman she is beneath it all. It is a simple act, yet it carries a profound intimacy, a promise that you hold her authenticity close, cradling it like something precious. In those moments, with your voice threading through the air between you, she feels anchored, loved in a way that transcends the fleeting adoration of crowds. She misses that sound, that feeling, the way it tethers her to you—a lifeline she hadn’t known she needed until it becomes hers.

Back in England, the rhythm of your life as a Manchester United midfielder picks up with the intensity of the season, but Jimin—Karina—remains a constant, grounding presence despite the distance. You both make it work, carving out time for video calls whenever your schedules align, often late at night for her due to her packed idol schedule. Her face lights up your screen, sometimes framed by the dim glow of her dorm room, other times from a backstage corner during a break. “I’m so tired,” she’ll admit at 2 a.m. her time, her voice soft but warm, “but talking to you makes it better.” You smile, urging her to rest, but she insists on staying up, craving the connection as much as you do.

Your conversations flow effortlessly across a wide range of topics—her latest dance practice struggles, your grueling training sessions, funny stories about her groupmates, and your teammates’ locker room antics. One night, she giggles, her eyes sparkling through the screen. “My members figured out I’m dating someone—they keep teasing me about how I’m always smiling at my phone. But I haven’t told them it’s you. Not yet.” You laugh, imagining her blushing under their scrutiny, and the thought of being her secret makes your heart race.

As the Premier League season kicks off, Jimin surprises you during a call after one of your matches. “I’ve been learning more about football,” she says, her tone proud. “I watched some breakdowns online, and now I can really appreciate how good you are. That assist you made last game? Insane.” Her words catch you off guard, a flush creeping up your neck as you rub the back of your head, trying to play it cool. “You’re making me blush, stop it,” you mutter, but her laughter only grows, bright and infectious. “I also try to watch your matches whenever I can,” she adds, “even if I’m half-asleep on a plane. You’re worth it.”

Through your late-night scrolling, you stumble across a fan page mentioning Jimin's birthday. An idea sparks, and you spend days planning the perfect long-distance gift. You settle on a delicate platinum necklace with a small pendant shaped like a heart with ‘I love you Jimin’ engraved on the back, paired with a handwritten letter pouring out how much she means to you. You arrange for it to be delivered to her dorm through a discreet courier, ensuring her privacy.

A few days later, during your next video call, Jimin’s eyes are brimming with emotion as she holds up the necklace, the pendant glinting in the light. “I love it,” she says, her voice trembling with gratitude. “It’s so thoughtful—I can’t believe you remembered the tiger cub. And your letter… I cried reading it. Thank you, really.” She clasps the necklace around her neck, her fingers brushing the pendant with a soft smile. “I’ll wear it all the time. It’s like having a piece of you with me.” Your heart swells at her reaction, the distance between you shrinking just a little at that moment.

The days stretch on, each one marked by the gnawing ache of missing Jimin. Your mornings start with thoughts of her smile, your evenings end with the memory of her touch, and every quiet moment in between is filled with longing for the sound of her voice. In England, the grind of training and matches keeps you busy, but it’s never enough to fill the void she left when you parted at the airport. Meanwhile, her texts hint at the same yearning—late-night messages about how she stares at the necklace, how the hoodie she stole from you still carries your scent, and how she wishes she could feel your arms around her again. The distance feels unbearable, yet your video calls, scattered across time zones, become a lifeline, a way to bridge the gap between Manchester and Seoul.

One night, during one of your usual calls, the screen flickers to life, revealing Jimin in her dimly lit dorm room, her face framed by tousled hair. But something’s off—her breathing is uneven, punctuated by occasional gasps, and her voice carries a strange, breathy edge, distracted and distant. “Hey,” she says, her words faltering slightly, and you tilt your head, narrowing your eyes.

“Jimin, what’s going on?” you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity as it crackles through the video call. She shakes her head quickly, a breathy “Nothing” slipping from her lips, but the gesture feels hollow. Her dark eyes flicker away from the screen, betraying her, and you catch the subtle shift of her hand disappearing below the frame. Leaning closer, you study her—the faint quiver in her slender shoulders, the way her full lips part with each shallow, uneven breath. Then it clicks: she’s touching herself. Her fingers, hidden just out of view, are working her slick, needy pussy, her body betraying her attempt to stay composed while she pretends to focus on you.

A slow, mischievous grin curls your lips as you decide to play with her. “Oh, I see what you’re up to,” you tease, your voice dropping low and warm, laced with amusement. Her reaction is instant—her cheeks flush a deep, rosy pink, the color blooming across her smooth skin as her wide, doe-like eyes snap back to you in mortification. “I—I didn’t mean for you to—” she stammers, her hand stalling beneath the desk, fingers glistening with her own arousal. You interrupt her gently, your tone softening but carrying a hungry edge.

“No, don’t stop,” you murmur, your voice dipping into a husky, commanding register that sends a shiver through her. “Keep going. Let me watch you.” Her blush deepens, painting her neck and chest in a faint glow, but she nods shyly, her hesitation melting under your gaze. Her hand resumes its rhythm, slow and deliberate at first, and you can just make out the way her delicate fingers slip between her wet folds. Her pussy is slick and pink, glistening in the soft light as she parts her thighs slightly, giving you a better view. Her thumb grazes her swollen clit in tight, needy circles, and the sight ignites a surge of heat that races down your spine, pooling in your groin. Your own hand drifts instinctively, sliding beneath the waistband of your pants to wrap around your hardening cock. The first touch sends a jolt through you—your shaft thickens in your grip, warm and pulsing as you stroke yourself slowly, syncing with her tentative pace.

“God, I wish I was there,” you groan, your voice rough with want as your fingers tighten around your length. Precum beads at the tip, slicking your hand as you drag it along your shaft, the friction sparking a low burn in your core. “I’d bury my face between your legs, taste every inch of you—lick you slow until you’re dripping for me.” You imagine her sweetness on your tongue, the way her thighs would tremble against your cheeks, her soft moans filling the air.

Jimin lets out a quiet, desperate moan, her fingers picking up speed as she responds to your words. Her pussy shines wetter on the camera, her arousal coating her hand as she spreads her legs wider, her hips tilting forward. Her body is a vision—petite but curvaceous, her small breasts rising and falling beneath her thin tank top, nipples pressing faintly against the fabric. “I miss you so much,” she gasps, her voice trembling with raw need, her long, dark hair clinging to her sweat-dampened neck. “I wish you were here, filling me up with your cock instead of my fingers. Touch yourself harder—please.”

Her plea sends a thrill through you, and you obey without hesitation. Your strokes grow firmer, your grip tightening as your cock throbs eagerly in your hand, the veins along its length pulsing with each rough tug. You can almost feel her—her tight, wet heat clenching around you, her walls fluttering as you thrust into her. “Like this?” you ask, your voice gravelly, and she nods with a frantic little whimper, her eyes glued to the screen where your hand moves in a steady, relentless rhythm. “Yes—faster,” she begs, her fingers plunging deeper into her soaked pussy, her knuckles brushing her clit with every thrust. Her hips buck slightly, her toned thighs tensing as she grinds against her own touch, chasing that edge. Her moans climb higher, breathy and unrestrained, her free hand clutching the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles whiten. You can see her inner walls tightening around her fingers, her clit flushed and swollen beneath her circling thumb, and it drives you wild.

“I want to feel you come,” you growl, your hand pumping your cock with desperate urgency now, the heat coiling tight at the base of your spine. Your balls draw up, heavy and aching, as you imagine sinking into her, the way her body would arch beneath you. “Picture it’s me inside you, Jimin. I’d thrust so deep, stretch you open, make you scream my name until you’re shaking.”

“Oh God—yes,” she cries, her voice breaking as her orgasm crashes over her. Her body trembles violently, her fingers buried to the hilt in her pulsing pussy, her juices spilling over her hand and dripping onto the chair beneath her. Her head tips back, exposing the graceful line of her throat as she rides the waves, her lips parted in a silent scream of ecstasy. The sight shatters your control—your cock jerks in your hand, and with a guttural groan, you cum hard. Hot, thick streaks spill over your fingers, splattering across your stomach as your hips twitch, every pulse a release of the tension you’d built watching her.

Panting, you both ease to a stop, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Jimin’s hand slips from between her legs, her fingers slick and trembling as she wipes them on her thigh. A shy, dazed smile breaks through her flushed face, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. “I can’t believe we just did that,” she whispers, her voice soft and shaky, a contrast to the boldness she’d shown moments ago. You chuckle, grabbing a tissue to clean yourself up, the sound warm and intimate despite the miles between you.

“Me neither,” you admit, your tone tender as the afterglow settles over you like a blanket. “But I meant it—I wish I was there with you. Soon, okay?”

“Soon,” she echoes, her eyes softening with a mix of longing and contentment, the distance between you shrinking just a little in the hazy warmth that follows.

One evening, as the golden hues of a Manchester sunset filter through your apartment window, you settle in for another video call with Jimin. Her face appears on the screen, her eyes sparkling with a brightness that makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ve got something to tell you,” she says, her voice practically vibrating with excitement, and you lean closer, hanging on her every word. “Aespa’s going on tour next month—and we’re stopping in England! London, Manchester, the whole deal!”

The words slam into you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you’re speechless, your chest tightening with a rush of joy so intense it almost hurts. “Are you serious?” you finally choke out, your voice cracking as a wide, uncontrollable grin spreads across your face. “Jimin, you’re really coming here? I’m going to see you?” Your hands grip the edge of the table, your pulse racing as the reality sinks in. After months of longing, of aching for her touch, the thought of holding her again feels like a dream you’re terrified to wake up from.

“Yes, I’m serious!” she laughs, her own excitement mirroring yours, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you adore. “I couldn’t believe it when they told us. All I could think about was you—finally seeing you, being with you. I’ve been counting down the days already.”

“God, Jimin,” you say, your voice thick with emotion, “you have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath since I left Korea, and now I can finally breathe again. I can’t wait to hold you, to kiss you, to just… be with you.” Your throat tightens, and you blink back the sting of tears, overwhelmed by how much she means to you.

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers, her voice softening, her gaze locking onto yours through the screen. “Every day, every second. I keep touching the necklace you gave me, thinking about you. I can’t wait to be in your arms again.”

The call ends with your heart soaring, the promise of her arrival a beacon lighting up the days ahead. After training the next day, your phone buzzes, and you open a message to hear Jimin’s voice—pure, hauntingly beautiful, filling your ears with an unreleased song. Her vocals soar through the melody, a perfect blend of longing and tenderness, each note wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You listen to it on repeat, letting her voice wash over you, and it becomes your sanctuary—something you play whenever you’re alone, whether you’re on the team bus, in the locker room, or lying in bed at night, her voice a tether to her across the miles.

The following day, you can’t wait to tell her how much it means to you. You call her, your excitement spilling over the moment she answers. “Jimin, that song—it’s incredible,” you say, your voice brimming with awe. “Your voice… it’s like magic. It’s so perfect for the melody like it was made for you to sing. I’ve been listening to it nonstop, every chance I get. When I’m alone, it’s like you’re right here with me. I can’t stop hearing you.”

Her laughter comes through, soft and delighted, and you can see the faint blush creeping up her cheeks on the screen. “You really think so?” she asks, her tone shy but warm. “I was so nervous sending it to you. But knowing you love it, that it’s with you like that… it makes me so happy. It’s like I’m there with you, even when I can’t be.”

“You are,” you say, your voice low and earnest. “Every note, every word—it’s you, Jimin. And it’s keeping me going until I can see you. I love you.” The words slip out, raw and unfiltered, and her eyes widen for a moment before softening, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I love you too,” she whispers, and the words settle deep in your chest, a promise that makes the wait for her arrival feel both endless and worth every second.

*************************************************************************************************************

The day finally arrives when Aespa’s tour reaches London, and the anticipation has been building inside you like a crescendo, each passing hour amplifying your excitement. Thanks to Jimin, you’ve secured VIP tickets and backstage access, a privilege that feels surreal as you watch the concert from the front row, her voice soaring through the arena, her every move a testament to her artistry. The crowd roars, but your eyes are locked on her, your heart pounding with the knowledge that you’ll see her soon.

As the final notes fade and the lights dim, you’re ushered backstage, your pulse racing. The moment you spot her, standing near a dressing room door, still glowing from the performance, you don’t hesitate. You close the distance in a few strides, pulling her into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around her with a fierceness born from months apart. “Jimin,” you breathe into her hair, and she melts against you, her arms squeezing you back just as hard. Then you tilt her face up, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss—deep, hungry, and filled with all the longing you’ve carried. Her lips part under yours, her breath hitching as she kisses you back with equal fervor, the world narrowing to just the two of you until the sound of giggles breaks you apart.

She pulls back, her cheeks flushed, and turns to the three women standing nearby—her groupmates, Winter, Ningning, and Giselle—watching with wide eyes and amused grins. “Guys, this is… my boyfriend,” she says, her voice a mix of pride and nervousness as she gestures to you. The room goes quiet for a beat, then erupts in a chorus of gasps and exclamations.

“Wait, boyfriend?” Winter blurts, her eyes darting between you and Jimin. “And he’s… a football player? Like Manchester United famous?”

Ningning claps her hands, laughing. “Oh my God, Karina, you sneaky thing! We knew you were dating someone, but a pro athlete? That’s next-level!”

Giselle steps forward, eyeing you with a playful smirk. “So, you’re the reason she’s been all giddy and blushy on her calls? She turns into a lovesick puppy. It’s hilarious—last week, she was giggling at her phone like a teenager!”

Jimin’s face turns beet red, and she swats at Giselle’s arm. “Stop it!” she protests, but her smile betrays her embarrassment. “They’re exaggerating,” she mutters to you, but the warmth in her eyes tells you she’s secretly delighted.

Winter chimes in, grinning. “No, we’re not! She’s been spacing out during practice, muttering your name under her breath. It’s adorable—and totally unlike her usual self.”

You laugh, pulling Jimin closer, your arm around her waist as you take in the teasing. “Well, I’m honored to be the cause of that,” you say, winking at her.

The backstage chatter buzzes around you as you spend a little while getting to know Jimin’s groupmates—Winter, Ningning, and Giselle. Their energy is infectious, each of them sharing quick anecdotes about life on tour, their playful teasing about Jimin’s lovesick demeanor blending with genuine curiosity about your football career. Winter leans in with a grin, asking about your latest goal, while Ningning mimics Jimin’s giddy phone-scrolling with exaggerated flair, earning a mock glare from her leader. Giselle, ever the observer, nods approvingly as you recount a tough training session. After a few minutes, you turn to them with a polite smile. “Hey, would you mind letting the manager know Jimin’s coming with me tonight? I’d love to spend some time with her.” They exchange quick glances, then nod enthusiastically, Winter giving you a thumbs-up. “Go for it! We’ll handle it,” she says, and the others chime in with supportive winks, clearly rooting for the two of you.

You guide Jimin out of the venue, the cool London night air brushing against your skin as you lead her to the parking lot. There, parked under a streetlight, sits your Aston Martin Vanquish—sleek, black, and gleaming with a quiet elegance. You open the passenger door for her, and her eyes widen in surprise, a delighted gasp escaping her lips. “Oh wow, this is your car?” she asks, running her fingers along the smooth edge of the door before sliding into the leather seat. The interior smells of polished wood and luxury, the soft hum of the engine starting as you close her door and circle to the driver’s side.

As you pull out onto the road, you glance at her, her profile illuminated by the dashboard lights. “That concert was incredible,” you say, your voice warm with admiration. “And you—God, Jimin, you looked so beautiful up there. Every move, every note—it was like you were glowing.” Her cheeks flush, and she turns to you with a shy smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice soft. “Hearing that from you means everything.”

The 30-minute drive to your house flies by, the car filled with a lively hum of conversation. You talk about your upcoming matches, and the pressure of the season kicking into high gear, and she shares details about her next concert stop in Manchester, her eyes lighting up as she describes the choreography. Laughter weaves through the dialogue as she recounts a hilarious mishap during rehearsal—Ningning tripping over a prop and dragging Giselle down with her—while you counter with a story about a teammate’s locker room prank gone hilariously wrong. The miles melt away, her voice a melody that keeps you anchored, and every shared glance feels like a step closer.

When you finally pull into your driveway and the car comes to a halt, the engine’s purr fades into silence. Before you can even unbuckle, Karina leans across the console, her hand cupping your face as she presses her lips to yours. The kiss is sudden, fervent, tasting of her excitement and longing, and you respond instantly, your hand sliding to the back of her neck to pull her closer. Your lips move together with a passion that’s been simmering since London, her breath warm against your skin as she deepens the kiss, a soft moan escaping her. The world outside the car fades, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in the intimacy of the moment, the night stretching ahead with unspoken promises.

You pull away from Jimin, the taste of her lips lingering on yours as you catch your breath, your heart racing from the intensity of the kiss. Her eyes are still locked on yours, dark and shimmering with desire, but you don’t linger in the car for long. You step out quickly, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin, and rush around to her side, opening the door with a swift motion. Before she can protest, you scoop her up into your arms in a classic princess carry, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. Her sudden yelp of surprise melts into a laugh, her arms instinctively wrapping around your neck.

“What are you doing?!” Jimin exclaims, her voice a mix of shock and amusement as she squirms slightly in your hold. “I’m too heavy—you’ll hurt yourself!” Her tone is playful, but there’s a hint of genuine concern as she looks up at you, her brows furrowed.

“You’re light as a feather,” you dismiss with a grin, tightening your grip as you start walking toward your front door. “Besides, I’ve been training for this moment—carrying my girlfriend is the best kind of workout.” She rolls her eyes at your teasing, but her protests fade, and she gives in, her body relaxing against yours. Her face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, her warm breath tickling your skin, and you can feel her smile against you, her hair brushing your jaw as you carry her. The closeness, the way she melts into you, sends a rush of warmth through your chest, and you savor every second of having her so near after so long apart.

You fumble briefly with the keys, managing to unlock the door with one hand while keeping her secure in your arms, and step inside your house, kicking the door shut behind you. The moment her feet touch the hardwood floor, you don’t give her a chance to catch her breath. Your hands find her waist, and you push her gently but firmly against the wall just inside the entryway, your lips crashing into hers with a passion that’s been building since the concert. The kiss is fiery and desperate, your mouths moving together with a hunger that speaks of months apart and countless nights spent dreaming of this moment.

Jimin moans softly into your mouth, her hands sliding up your chest to grip your shoulders, pulling you closer as her body arches against yours. You press yourself against her, pinning her to the wall, one hand cupping her face while the other slides down to her hip, your fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp. Her lips part, and you deepen the kiss, your tongue brushing hers, tasting the sweetness of her as the heat between you ignites. The wall is cool against your knuckles, a stark contrast to the warmth of her body, and every sound she makes—every hitch of her breath, every soft whimper—fuels the fire coursing through you, the longing of being apart finally giving way to the reality of having her here, in your arms, against your lips.

The kiss against the wall explodes into something feral, a collision of lips and tongues that sets the air ablaze with unrestrained heat. Jimin’s hands slip beneath your shirt, her nails—short but sharp—raking across your skin, igniting a trail of tingling fire over your abdomen. She tugs the fabric upward with impatient fingers, and you break the kiss just long enough to rip the shirt over your head, tossing it into the shadows. Her eyes, dark pools of molten desire, rake over your bare chest, drinking in the taut lines of muscle, the faint sheen of sweat already gathering there. You don’t hesitate—your hands find the hem of her hoodie, peeling it off to reveal the smooth, golden curve of her shoulders and the gentle swell of her breasts, barely contained by a thin black bra. The air between you crackles, electric with urgency, as you scoop her up again. Her legs snap around your waist, thighs clamping tight, the heat of her core pressing against your lower abdomen as you carry her toward the living room, her lips locked to yours in a messy, unbroken dance of need.

You lower her onto the plush couch, the cool fabric brushing her back as she sinks into it, her body a vision of taut curves and trembling anticipation. You hover over her, your hands roaming with a ravenous hunger that’s been simmering for months—fingers tracing the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the soft give of her belly. Her breath hitches as she fumbles with your belt, her desperation palpable, and you help her, shedding your pants and boxers in a frantic tangle that leaves you bare and aching. She’s already wriggling out of her jeans and panties, kicking them off with eager little jerks, and the sight of her—naked, her pussy glistening with slick arousal, her inner thighs faintly trembling—makes your cock throb, hard and heavy with need. You dip your head, kissing down the slender column of her neck, your teeth grazing her skin before you suck hard at her collarbone, pulling a faint, rosy bruise to the surface. Your hand slides between her thighs, finding her pussy soaked and scorching, the lips puffy and inviting. She gasps, a sharp, needy sound, her hips bucking as your thumb brushes her swollen clit, teasing it in tight, lazy circles while two fingers slip inside her impossibly tight heat.

“God, I’ve missed this,” you groan, your voice gravelly with raw want as you pump your fingers, marveling at how her walls grip you—velvet-soft yet so fucking tight, like she’s molded just for you. You curl them, hitting that spongy spot deep inside, and her moan—your name spilling from her lips in a broken cry—sends a jolt straight to your cock. “I want you so bad, Jimin.” Her pussy pulses around your fingers, slick and greedy, coating your hand as you work her, each thrust drawing wet, obscene sounds that fill the room.

“Please—don’t tease,” Karina whimpers, her voice fraying with desperation, her hands clutching your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she pulls you closer. You can’t deny her—not when she’s like this, flushed and panting, her dark hair fanning across the couch. You pull your hand free, her juices clinging to your fingers, and position yourself, the head of your cock nudging her entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, you slide into her, and the sensation is mind-blowing—her pussy a tight, wet vise, clenching around you as you fill her inch by inch. She cries out, her head tipping back, exposing the delicate arch of her throat, and you set a steady rhythm, each thrust sinking deep into her molten core. Her walls flutter around your cock, warm and slick, sucking you in with every motion, and you groan low in your chest, the sound mingling with her breathy gasps. The couch creaks beneath you, protesting as you pick up speed, the slap of your skin against hers—your balls smacking her ass—echoing in the room. “Harder,” she begs, her voice a ragged plea, and her legs tighten around your waist, heels digging into your lower back.

You comply, slamming into her with a force that jolts her body up the couch, her round, firm breasts bouncing beneath her bra with each punishing thrust. Her pussy grips you like a fist, so tight it’s almost painful, the friction building a white-hot pressure in your groin. She shudders beneath you, her orgasm tearing through her with a scream that rips the air apart—her walls clamp down hard, pulsing wildly around your cock, milking you as her juices flood out, soaking your shaft and dripping onto the couch. The sensation shatters your control, and with a guttural moan, you cum, your cock jerking as you spill deep inside her, thick ropes of heat painting her insides. Your body trembles, muscles tensing and releasing as you collapse against her, her chest heaving beneath you, her skin sticky with sweat and sex.

But the hunger doesn’t fade—it lingers, smoldering, ready to flare again. After a brief respite, her lips crash into yours, fierce and demanding, reigniting the spark. You’re both up, stumbling toward the kitchen in a tangle of limbs, her hands shoving you against the counter with surprising strength. The cold edge bites into your lower back as she kisses you hard, her tongue claiming your mouth. Then she pauses, stepping back, her hands sliding to her back. “Wait,” she murmurs, voice husky, and with a flick, her bra unclips and falls away, revealing her tits—full, round, and fucking perfect. Your breath catches, eyes locking onto them: creamy skin, dusky pink nipples hardening in the cool air, the slight bounce as she shifts. “Goddamn, Karina,” you rasp, voice thick with awe, “your tits are unreal. So fucking beautiful—perfectly round, so soft-looking, I could stare at them all day.”

She smirks, stepping closer, letting them press against your chest. “You like them that much, huh?” she teases, but there’s a needy edge to her tone. You don’t just answer—you act. Your hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, feeling them pebble under your touch. “Love them,” you growl, squeezing gently, marveling at their weight, their warmth. “They’re fucking gorgeous—best I’ve ever seen.” You pinch her nipples lightly, rolling them between your fingers, and she gasps, head tilting back as a shiver runs through her.

“Play with them more,” she whispers, and you oblige, kneading her tits, tugging her nipples until they’re stiff and swollen, her soft moans spurring you on. You lower your head, taking one into your mouth, sucking hard, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. She arches into you, fingers tangling in your hair, and you switch to the other, leaving both glistening with spit, her skin flushed. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” she pants, her chest heaving.

She drops to her knees in a fluid motion, hands gripping your thighs, nails pressing into your skin. Her eyes—dark, wicked—lock onto yours as she wraps her lips around your cock, still slick with your cum and her arousal. “Fuck, Karina,” you groan, voice hoarse as her mouth envelops you, warm and wet, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip with devastating precision. She sucks hard, hollowing her cheeks, tasting the salty-sweet mess, and the sight—lips stretched around your shaft, spit glistening as she bobs her head—makes your head spin. Your cock twitches, hardening fast, and she takes you deeper, the head brushing the back of her throat. Her hands slide up, one cupping your balls, rolling them gently as her tongue flicks the underside, the other stroking the base.

“You taste so fucking good,” she murmurs, words muffled around you, vibrating through your length. You tangle your hands in her hair, guiding her as you rock your hips slightly, fucking her mouth. She moans, eyes watering but locked on yours, pupils blown with lust. Her tongue teases the slit, lapping up precum, her lips tight and perfect. The pressure builds—too fast—her skill undoing you. “Karina—shit, I’m gonna—” you warn, voice breaking.

She pulls off with a wet pop, lips swollen and shiny, a string of spit and cum dangling before it snaps. “Not yet,” she says, voice dripping with need. She stands, pressing her tits together with her hands, framing them like an offering. “Cum on my tits—please, I want it. I need you to cover them.” Her begging hits you like a punch, raw and desperate, and your cock throbs at the thought.

“Fuck, Karina, you’re killing me with those,” you groan, stroking yourself as she kneels again, pushing her breasts up higher. You can’t resist—your hands reach out, squeezing them again, thumbs circling her nipples as she whimpers. Then she takes over, wrapping her tits around your cock, soft and warm, enveloping you completely. “Like this,” she whispers, starting to move, sliding them up and down your shaft. The friction’s insane—her skin’s silky but firm, her nipples brushing your tip with every stroke, slick with spit she lets drip down to ease the glide.

“Holy shit, your tits feel so good,” you rasp, watching her work you, her cleavage swallowing your cock as she pumps faster. “Love how they squeeze me—perfect fucking fit.” She smirks, but her eyes are pleading, locked on yours. “Cum on them—please, I want it so bad,” she begs again, voice shaking, and she tightens her grip, pressing her breasts harder around you. The sight—her on her knees, tits bouncing as she titfucks you, begging for your load—snaps your restraint. You groan, hips jerking, and cum explodes from you, thick ropes splattering across her chest. She moans loud, tilting her head back as hot streaks paint her tits, dripping down her nipples, coating her skin in a glossy mess.

“Fuck, look at that,” you pant, admiring the sight—her breasts glistening with your cum, nipples swollen from your play, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. She runs a finger through it, smearing it over one nipple, then licks it clean, smirking up at you. “Tastes even better off me,” she teases, and you haul her up, kissing her fiercely, tasting yourself mingled with her sweat and spit.

She stands, wiping her swollen lips with the back of her hand, cum glistening on her chin and tits. You grab her wrists and bend her over the kitchen island, hunger driving you. Her pert, round ass presses against you, soft and warm, as you align yourself, your cock nudging her soaked entrance. You thrust in from behind, plunging deep into her tight, dripping pussy, and she moans loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. Her walls grip you like a vice, slick and scorching, clenching around your shaft as you drive into her. The cold marble presses against her belly and cum-slicked breasts, her nipples hardening against it.

You thrust hard, relentless, the wet slap of your hips against her ass filling the room, paired with the counter’s creak under her grip. Her fingers curl around the edge, knuckles whitening, and her second orgasm hits fast—her legs tremble, her pussy spasming around you, so tight it’s almost unbearable. Her juices gushed out, mixing with your precum, and trickling down her thighs. The sensation tips you over, and with a guttural groan, you cum, your cock pulsing as you spill deep inside her. Your thick release blends with hers, a hot, sticky mess dripping down her skin and pooling on the floor.

Breathless, you scoop her up, her body limp yet clinging as you stumble to the bedroom. The sheets are rumpled from earlier, and you lay her down, her dark hair fanning across the pillow. You kiss her breasts, nipples still pebbled and sticky with your cum, your tongue flicking over them, drawing a soft gasp. You kiss her stomach, muscles twitching under your lips, then her inner thighs, silky and trembling, slick with your combined release. You spread her legs, exposing her glistening pussy—pink, puffy, dripping—and dive in, tasting her. Your tongue laps up her sweet juices mixed with your salty cum, intoxicatingly filthy.

She writhes, hips bucking as you tease her oversensitive clit with slow swirls until she’s whimpering, tugging you up. You kiss her fiercely, letting her taste the mess, and slide into her again—slower, savoring her tight, fluttering walls. Her nails rake down your back, leaving stinging trails, and she cums again, cries muffled against your shoulder as her pussy clenches hard. It drags you over the edge, your cock throbbing as you spill inside her, collapsing together, sweat-soaked and panting.

The night stretches on, insatiable, and you stagger to the bathroom, bodies slick with cum, sweat, and sex clinging like a second skin. The tiles are cool underfoot as you fumble for the shower, but she presses you against the sink, pinning you with surprising strength. Her hand wraps around your cock—still slick, half-hard—and strokes you back to life, fingers tight and teasing, coaxing a low groan. “One more,” she whispers, voice hoarse, and you lift her onto the counter, her legs spreading wide, her pussy dripping with your combined mess.

You step between her thighs, the mirror reflecting her bouncing breasts—round, perfect, still streaked with your cum—and her stretched, swollen pussy as you drive in. Her tightness grips you like a glove, every thrust forcing a wet squelch as fluids spill out, coating your shaft and dripping onto the counter. The slap of skin echoes in the small space, lewd and relentless, and she clings to you, arms around your neck, breath hot in your ear. Her third orgasm hits with a sob, her pussy clamping down hard, pulsing wildly, pulling you into your release. You cum with a broken moan, pumping her full again, some splattering her thighs as you thrust through it.

Exhausted, you step into the shower together, warm water washing away the cum, sweat, and raw scent of your marathon. The intimacy lingers, soft and unspoken, as your hands move gently over her body. You trace her hips, the dip of her spine, lathering soap across her skin as she sighs, head resting against your chest. She cleans you too, fingers tender over your shoulders and chest, washing away her nail marks, steam rising like a warm cocoon around you.

The soft light of a London morning filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the bedroom where you and Jimin lie entwined, her body nestled perfectly against yours. Her rest day in England is your precious gift, the only full day you have before her tour sweeps her away again, and you intend to savor every second. You wake slowly, the warmth of her breath against your chest stirring you from sleep, her arm draped possessively over you. With a reluctant sigh, you gently pry yourself from her embrace, careful not to wake her, and slip out of bed, the cool floor a stark contrast to the heat of her skin. Your heart aches with how much you already miss her closeness, but the promise of a perfect day fuels your steps as you head downstairs to make breakfast.

In the kitchen, the quiet hum of the morning surrounds you as you gather ingredients—flour, eggs, milk—setting out to make pancakes, her favorite. The sizzle of butter in the pan fills the air as you pour the first batter, the scent of vanilla wafting up, a small gesture of love. Lost in the rhythm of flipping, you don’t hear her at first, but then a soft rustle, followed by hurried footsteps, catches your attention. That morning, Karina wakes in your bed, the empty space beside her jarring, and a wave of panic grips her—her pulse quickening as she scrambles out of the sheets, searching the bathroom, the hallway, her voice shaky as she calls your name with increasing urgency. When she finally reaches the kitchen, her breath catches in relief. You turn to see Jimin standing in the doorway, her hair a tousled halo, her eyes still heavy with sleep but now softening with reassurance at the sight of you. She’s wrapped in your oversized shirt, the hem brushing her thighs, and the sight steals your breath.

“Good morning, beautiful,” you say, your voice warm and tender, a smile spreading across your face as she pads toward you. She doesn’t reply with words—instead, she slips behind you, her arms sliding around your waist in a gentle back hug, her cheek pressing against your back. “Your heartbeat,” she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy, “it’s so calming. I could listen to it all day.” The intimacy of her words wraps around you, and you feel a surge of affection, your heart beating a little faster under her touch.

You turn in her arms, facing her, and cup her face gently, leaning down to kiss her. It’s slow and sweet, her lips soft and warm against yours, tasting faintly of sleep and the promise of the day ahead. Breaking the kiss, you lift her effortlessly, her surprised giggle filling the room as you set her on the counter, her legs dangling. “Stay there,” you say with a grin, turning back to the stove to flip the first pancake, the golden edges crisp and perfect. You slide it onto a plate, drizzling it with a touch of syrup, and hand it to her straight from the pan, the warmth transferring to her fingers.

She takes a bite, her eyes closing in delight, and as you cook more, you pass her each fresh pancake, the kitchen filling with the cozy aroma. She feeds you a piece in return, her fingers brushing your lips, and follows it with another kiss—brief but filled with love, the taste of syrup mingling between you. The ritual continues, a dance of giving and receiving, until the stack is gone, and her fingers are sticky with syrup and butter. You catch her hand, bringing it to your mouth, and slowly lick her fingers clean, your tongue tracing each digit with care, savoring the sweetness and the way her breath hitches at the intimate gesture. Her eyes lock with yours, a soft blush coloring her cheeks, and the moment stretches, a quiet, romantic thread binding you together on this fleeting, perfect day.

After the tender moment of cleaning her sticky fingers, the air between you and Jimin shifts, charged with a quiet, simmering intimacy. The kitchen is still warm with the scent of pancakes, but your focus narrows to her—her soft breaths, the way her eyes follow your every move. You step closer, your hands resting on her hips where she sits on the counter, and gently guide her thighs apart, the fabric of your shirt riding up to reveal the smooth expanse of her skin. Her gaze meets yours, a mix of curiosity and anticipation flickering in her dark eyes, and you feel your heart swell with love and desire.

Leaning in, you start with slow, deliberate kisses along her neck, your lips brushing the sensitive skin just below her ear. Each kiss is a tease, lingering for a heartbeat before moving to the next spot, your breath warm against her as she tilts her head back with a soft sigh. You trace a path downward, your lips grazing the curve of her collarbone, then lower, nipping gently at the hollow of her throat where her pulse quickens beneath your touch. Her hands find your shoulders, fingers curling into your shirt, and a quiet moan escapes her, fueling the romantic tension building between you.

You sink to your knees, your hands sliding down her thighs, parting them further as you press slow, reverent kisses along the inner skin. Each kiss is a caress, your lips soft and warm, moving with agonizing slowness from her knee upward, savoring the smoothness of her flesh. Her breathing grows uneven, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands, and you can feel the heat radiating from her core as you inch closer. You kiss the tender crease where her thigh meets her hip, your lips hovering just shy of her pussy, and her hips shift instinctively toward you, a needy whimper slipping out.

Teasingly, you pause, your lips a breath away, and instead of touching her where she craves, you blow a gentle stream of cool air across her slick folds. She gasps, her body jolting at the sensation, the contrast of the air against her heated skin making her squirm. “Please,” she whispers, her voice a desperate plea, her hands tightening on your shoulders, but you only smile against her thigh, placing another slow kiss just to the side, prolonging the sweet torture. The intimacy of the moment wraps around you both, a dance of love and longing, her vulnerability laid bare as you worship her with every careful, teasing touch.

The teasing tension hangs in the air, but you decide to shift the moment into something even more intimate. Pulling back from Jimin’s trembling thighs, you rise to your feet, your hands lingering on her hips as you meet her flushed gaze. “I think it’s time for a bath,” you say, your voice low and warm, laced with affection. “Want to join me?” Her eyes light up, a soft smile breaking through her needy expression, and without a word, she slides off the counter, her movements eager.

Before you can take a step, she leaps onto your back, her legs wrapping around your waist and her arms encircling your neck in a playful, clinging hug. Her laughter rings out, light and joyous, as she presses her cheek against yours, her breath tickling your ear. “Carry me!” she giggles, and you chuckle, adjusting your grip under her thighs to support her weight, her body warm and soft against you. The short journey to the basement feels like a dance, her legs tightening playfully as you descend the stairs, the cool air of the lower level contrasts with the heat between you.

You reach the basement, where the jacuzzi sits nestled in a cozy corner, its sleek edges promising relaxation. Setting her down gently, you turn on the faucet, the sound of water filling the tub a soothing backdrop. “Can you keep an eye on it?” you ask, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She nods, her eyes following you with a tender smile as you head upstairs to gather supplies. You grab a pair of soft sweatpants and a t-shirt for yourself, a fluffy robe, and one of your old hoodies for her, along with thick towels. On impulse, you snag a bottle of red wine and two elegant wine glasses from the kitchen, the idea of sharing a romantic soak with her fueling your steps.

Returning to the basement, you find the jacuzzi nearly full, steam rising in gentle curls, the air thick with warmth and promise. Jimin stands by the edge, her silhouette is graceful against the soft, amber light filtering through the room, her presence magnetic. You set the clothes and towels aside on a nearby bench, your pulse quickening as you approach her. “Let me help you,” you murmur, voice low and edged with anticipation, your hands trembling slightly as you reach for the hem of the loose shirt she’s wearing—one of yours, oversized on her frame, the fabric clinging faintly to her curves.

You peel it off slowly, deliberately, revealing her skin inch by inch, and as the shirt lifts past her waist, her breasts come into view—unrestrained, no bra beneath, full and perfect. Your breath hitches, eyes locking onto them: round, supple, with a gentle heft that makes your mouth water, her dusky pink nipples already perking up in the warm, humid air. “Fuck, Jimin,” you whisper, almost to yourself, “your tits are incredible.” You drop the shirt aside, hands hovering for a moment before settling on her waist, guiding her closer as you begin your worship.

You start with soft, lingering kisses along her collarbone, tasting the faint salt of her skin, then trail down the curve of her shoulder, your lips brushing with a featherlight touch that makes her shiver. But it’s her chest that draws you—irresistibly—and you dip lower, pressing your mouth to the swell of her breasts. “So fucking perfect,” you murmur against her skin, voice thick with awe, as you cup them gently in your hands, thumbs grazing the undersides. They’re warm, and heavy, the weight of them filling your palms like they were made for you. You knead them softly, savoring their softness, the way they yield under your touch yet hold their firm shape.

Jimin lets out a quiet moan, her hands resting lightly on your head, fingers threading into your hair as you kiss across her chest, lips tracing the delicate curve where her breasts meet her ribcage. “You like them that much?” she breathes, a teasing lilt undercut by the hitch in her voice. “Love them,” you reply, muffled against her skin, and you prove it—your mouth finds one nipple, brushing it with a slow, wet kiss before sucking gently. She gasps, arching slightly, and you take your time, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, feeling it harden under your attention. “So pretty,” you groan, pulling back to admire how it glistens with your spit, swollen and flushed, before switching to the other, sucking harder this time, teeth grazing just enough to make her whimper.

Your hands never stop, massaging her tits with a reverent rhythm, thumbs flicking her nipples in sync with your mouth. “God, I could play with these all night,” you say, voice rough with need, and you press her breasts together, marveling at the deep cleavage it creates. You bury your face there, kissing and licking the valley between them, inhaling her scent—clean sweat and something faintly sweet, uniquely her. She squirms, a soft laugh breaking through her moans. “You’re obsessed,” she accuses, but her grip on your hair tightens, urging you on.

“Damn right, I am,” you growl, and you pinch her nipples lightly, rolling them between your fingers until they’re stiff peaks, her breath coming faster now. You tug gently, watching her face—eyes fluttering shut, lips parting in a silent cry—and it’s intoxicating, the way she reacts to every touch. “They’re so sensitive,” you murmur, almost in wonder, and you lower your mouth again, sucking one nipple deep while your hand works the other, squeezing and teasing until she’s trembling, her thighs pressing together as arousal pools lower.

You pull back for a moment, just to look—her tits are flushed, nipples dark and glistening, a faint sheen of sweat making them glow in the dim light. “Fucking gorgeous,” you say, voice hoarse, and you can’t resist giving them one more slow, deliberate lick each, tongue flat and broad, dragging across the peaks as she moans louder, her hands clutching you tighter. Only then do you continue downward, kissing her stomach, the dip of her hips, your lips brushing every exposed inch with the same reverence? You kneel, trailing kisses along her thighs, then her calves, before sliding her panties down, pressing a final worshipful kiss to the tops of her feet as they step free, her body now bare and trembling before you.

You shed your own clothes quickly, your eyes never leaving hers, and step into the jacuzzi first, the warm water enveloping you as you settle against the side. “Come here,” you say softly, holding out your hand. Jimin joins you, her movements graceful despite the steam, and she slides into the water, settling between your legs. Her back presses against your chest, her head resting on your sternum, and you wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. The water laps gently around you both, the heat seeping into your muscles as her hair floats softly against your skin. You reach for the wine, pour two glasses, and hand her one, clinking yours against hers in a silent toast to this stolen moment, the intimacy of her body against yours filling the space with a profound, romantic stillness.

The jacuzzi’s warm water envelops you and Jimin, the gentle jets humming softly, easing you both into a cocoon of relaxation. Steam curls upward in lazy spirals, blending with the faint, fruity scent of red wine perched on the ledge. Jimin nestles perfectly between your legs, her back flush against your chest, her head tucked just below your chin.

You feel her breathing, slow and steady, her chest rising and falling in sync with yours, the world beyond this moment fading away. One arm drapes around her, hand splayed across her soft stomach, while the other traces idle, featherlight circles along her forearm. The silence wraps you like a warm blanket, melting away the stress of your separate lives.

After a long, peaceful stretch, Jimin’s voice cuts through, soft and tinged with melancholy. “I’ll miss this,” she murmurs, her head tilting so her cheek grazes your collarbone. Her words sting, a sharp reminder of her looming departure, and your heart tightens painfully.

You refuse to let the sadness take hold—not now, with her warm, pliant body pressed against you. “Let’s enjoy every single moment we have left,” you say, voice low and resolute, a vow to savor her presence. To banish the gloom, you dip your head, lips brushing the delicate curve of her neck.

At first, you kiss her gently, lips lingering on the sensitive skin below her ear, tasting the faint salt of her skin, warm and slightly damp from the day. She sighs, a soft, contented hum vibrating through her chest. Her body sinks deeper into you as tension ebbs from her shoulders. You trail kisses down the slope where her neck meets her shoulder, each one slow and deliberate, a silent promise. Your hands slide up her sides, brushing the edge of her shirt before slipping beneath, finding her breasts—bare, soft, and warm against your palms. You cup them gently, thumbs grazing her nipples, feeling them stiffen under your touch, velvety and hot. She gasps, a sharp intake of breath, as you roll one nipple between your fingers, the skin puckering into a tight bud. Your lips move lower, kissing the swell of her chest, tasting her sweetness, then close around the other nipple—wet and slick as you suck lightly, tongue flicking over the hardened peak. Her fingers twitch against your arm, a quiet moan slipping out as her body arches into the heat of your hands and mouth.

Your hand on her stomach stirs, creeping downward with agonizing intent. It slips between her legs, the water slicking her skin as your fingers graze the tender insides of her thighs. You tease her, brushing so close to her core but never quite touching, a maddening dance of almosts.

You trace slow, teasing circles around her pussy, skimming the edges of her folds, feeling the heat radiating from her. Her breath hitches, legs parting slightly, inviting you in, her body arching just a fraction toward your hand. You graze her clit with the lightest whisper of a touch, then retreat, leaving her wanting.

You blow a soft stream of air through the water, the bubbles tickling her sensitive skin, and she whimpers, a needy little sound that makes your cock twitch. Her hands grip your thighs beneath the surface, nails digging in as she squirms against you, desperate for more.

“Please,” she gasps, voice trembling, her head tipping back against your chest. Her dark eyes lock onto yours, wide and pleading, glistening with raw need. “I need you—please, stop teasing me, I can’t take it.”

Her desperation fuels you, her breathy plea dripping with want as she writhes, her ass pressing harder against your growing erection. “Touch me, please—I’m begging you,” she whines, her voice cracking, her hips rolling subtly to chase your hand. The sight of her—so undone, so needy—sets your pulse racing.

You prolong the torment, letting your fingers hover near her entrance, brushing her folds with featherlight strokes. “You want it that bad, huh?” you murmur, voice low and teasing, lips grazing her ear. She nods frantically, a soft sob escaping her throat.

“Please, I need your fingers inside me—please, it’s too much,” she begs, her tone raw and shattered, her body trembling with anticipation. Her pussy clenches the air, aching for you, and you can’t resist her any longer.

Finally, you give in, sliding two fingers into her slick, searing heat, curling them deep as your thumb presses firmly against her swollen clit. She moans loudly, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls, her pussy gripping your fingers like a tight, wet glove, pulsing with every move.

“Oh God, yes—that feels so good,” she groans, her voice thick with pleasure, her hips bucking to meet your thrusts. You set a slow, torturous pace at first, dragging your fingers in and out, feeling her walls flutter and squeeze you, her slickness coating your hand.

“Fuck, you’re amazing—so deep,” she pants, her head lolling back, eyes half-lidded as she surrenders to the sensation. You pick up speed, thrusting harder, curling your fingers to hit that sweet spot inside her, and her moans turn to desperate cries.

“It’s so good—don’t stop, please,” she gasps, her hands clutching your thighs tighter, nails biting into your skin. The water sloshes around you, splashing over the edge as her hips grind against your hand, chasing every stroke, every press of your thumb on her clit.

You kiss her neck again, sucking a dark, possessive mark into her skin as you drive her higher. “You feel incredible—so tight around me,” you growl against her ear, reveling in how her pussy clenches even harder at your words.

“Oh fuck, I can’t—feels too good,” she whimpers, her voice breaking as her body tenses, teetering on the edge. You thrust faster, your thumb circling her clit with relentless pressure, and she’s a mess of moans and pleas, her breath ragged.

“Cum for me, baby,” you murmur, voice rough with desire, your lips brushing her earlobe. That’s all it takes—her orgasm slams into her, her body shuddering violently in your arms, her pussy clamping down on your fingers so tight it steals your breath.

“Yes—fuck, I’m cumming!” she cries, her voice shattering as she rides the waves, her walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick heat over your hand. You keep moving, drawing out every tremor, her thighs quaking, her moans turning to soft, broken sobs of ecstasy.

“So good—so fucking good,” she pants, her body limp against you as the aftershocks ripple through her, her pussy still fluttering around your fingers. You slow your pace, easing her down, kissing her shoulder tenderly as she catches her breath.

When the high fades, Jimin turns her head, her lips crashing into yours in a deep, desperate kiss. One hand slides up, tangling in your hair, tugging hard, while the other grips your shoulder, anchoring herself to you.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, her taste mingling with the faint tang of her arousal still on your lips. She pours her lingering pleasure into it, possessive and fierce, and the water laps gently around you, a warm contrast to the fire between you.

As Jimin’s orgasm subsides, her body still trembling in your arms, you feel the overwhelming urge to take her right there in the jacuzzi, to bury yourself inside her and lose yourself in the heat of her. The way her pussy clenched around your fingers, the raw sound of her cries echoing in the steam-filled room, ignites a fire in you that’s hard to ignore. But the intensity of her release is evident—her legs shake uncontrollably, her chest heaving with ragged breaths, and her head lolls against your shoulder, a testament to how powerfully it hit her. You don’t want to overwhelm her, not when she’s still so vulnerable in your embrace, so you temper your desire, choosing instead to cherish her in this moment.

With gentle care, you reach for the soap, lathering your hands to clean her, your fingers gliding over her skin with a tenderness that contrasts with the passion moments ago. You wash the sweat and remnants of her pleasure from her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, each touch a silent promise of love. She sighs softly, leaning into your hands, and you clean yourself too, the warm water rinsing away the evidence of your shared intimacy. Once done, you step out, wrapping her in a fluffy towel before helping her into the oversized hoodie and robe you brought, the fabric swallowing her petite frame. You dress in the sweatpants and t-shirt, the casual comfort grounding you as you guide her upstairs, her hand clasped in yours.

In the living room, you settle onto the couch, pulling her close as you drape a blanket over you both. You queue up her favorite movies—romantic classics she’s mentioned in late-night calls—and the soft glow of the TV casts a warm light across her face. Her head rests on your chest, her breathing slowing as the familiar scenes unfold, and soon her eyelids flutter shut, her body relaxing fully against you in sleep. You watch her for a moment, her peaceful expression a stark contrast to the passion of earlier, and your heart swells with love. Reluctantly, you glance at the clock—training awaits—and with a sigh, you ease out from under her, careful not to wake her. You scribble a quick note—“Went to training. Be back soon. Love you, Jimin”—and leave it on the coffee table, pressing a feather-light kiss to her forehead before heading out.

The day at training drags, your mind drifting to her sleeping form, but when you finally return home, the door creaks open to a sight that stops you in your tracks. Jimin—now awake—rushes toward you, her bare feet padding against the floor, her hair a messy cascade around her face. She throws her arms around your neck, pulling you into a kiss that’s sweet and eager, her lips soft and warm against yours. “Welcome back home, babe,” she murmurs against your mouth, her voice laced with affection, her body pressed close.

The words and her embrace hit you like a wave, a deep warmth spreading through your chest as you hold her tight, your hands resting on her lower back. “I could get used to this,” you say, your voice thick with emotion as you pull back just enough to look into her eyes. “Coming home to you jumping into my arms and kissing me every day—it’s more than I ever dreamed of.” Her smile widens, a blush coloring her cheeks, and she nestles back into you, the promise of more moments like this lingering in the air, a romantic thread binding your fleeting time together.

After stepping through the door and sharing that heartfelt moment with Jimin, you feel the lingering sweat and fatigue from training clinging to you. You excuse yourself for a quick shower, leaving her in the living room with a lingering kiss on her forehead. The hot water washes away the day’s exertion, and you emerge feeling refreshed, slipping into a comfortable pair of joggers and a loose t-shirt. Your mind turns to the rest of the evening—Jimin’s last few hours before she has to leave for her next tour stop—and you decide to cook for her, something simple yet heartfelt to make the most of your time. Homemade pasta with a light tomato sauce comes to mind, paired with a small cake for dessert, a sweet ending to her rest day in England.

You head to the kitchen, Jimin trailing behind you with a curious smile, her oversized hoodie sleeves dangling past her hands. “What’s the plan, chef?” she teases, leaning against the counter as you pull out ingredients—flour, eggs, sugar, and a few ripe tomatoes. “Just some pasta and a little cake,” you reply, rolling up your sleeves. “Thought we’d start with the cake first. Want to help?” Her eyes light up, and she nods eagerly, stepping closer to join you.

You begin mixing the cake batter, measuring out flour and sugar while Jimin cracks the eggs, her movements careful but playful. As you sift the flour into a bowl, she sneaks up beside you, a mischievous glint in her eye. Before you can react, she dips her fingers into the flour bag and flicks a handful onto your face, the white powder dusting your cheeks and nose. “Jimin!” you exclaim, laughing as you wipe your eyes, the flour leaving a streak across your forehead. She giggles, her laughter bright and infectious, and tries to dart away, but you’re quicker, grabbing a handful of flour and tossing it at her. It catches her hair and the front of her hoodie, turning her into a snowy mess.

The kitchen erupts into a full-on food fight, the air filling with clouds of flour as you both lob handfuls at each other, your laughter echoing off the walls. She squeals, ducking behind the counter to grab more, then launches another attack, the powder sticking to her cheeks and eyelashes, making her look like a playful ghost. You chase after her, dodging a particularly wild throw that sends flour scattering across the floor, and finally catch her, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. Your grip is firm, pinning her arms to her sides, preventing her from throwing any more flour. She squirms, laughing breathlessly, but there’s no escaping your hold, her body pressed against yours as you both catch your breath.

Jimin tilts her head back, looking up at you, and her eyes are alight with happiness, the kind of pure, unfiltered joy that makes your heart ache with love. Flour dusts her face, a smudge on her nose, and a streak across her cheek, but she’s never looked more beautiful. Her gaze softens, the laughter fading into a tender warmth, and you can’t resist. You lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s brimming with passion, the taste of flour mingling with her sweetness. Her lips part under yours, and she melts into the kiss, her body relaxing in your arms as her hands—still dusted with flour—reach up to cup your face, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, a hungry edge to it as your tongues brush, the mess of the kitchen forgotten in the heat of the moment, the passion a testament to how much you’ll miss her when she’s gone.

The passionate kiss in the flour-dusted kitchen sparks a fire neither of you can tame, the playful food fight fading into a raw, primal hunger. Jimin’s flour-dusted hands slide from your face to your chest, fingers clawing into your shirt as she presses closer. “God, I want you so bad,” she breathes against your lips, her voice trembling with need, her kiss fierce and hungry.

The air thickens with lust, flour scattered on the counter and floor a forgotten mess as desire takes over. You pull back, panting, locking eyes with her—dark, dilated, blazing with want. “Jimin, I need you—right here, right now,” you say, voice husky and thick.

“Yes, please—take me,” she gasps, nodding eagerly, her words a desperate plea. Your hands grip her hips, hoisting her onto the counter, the cool edge biting into her thighs as her legs part wide. “Fuck, hurry,” she urges, her tone needy.

Her oversized hoodie rides up, baring her smooth skin, and you yank it off, tossing it aside. She’s naked beneath, flour smudged across her chest and arms, her breasts heaving. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” you murmur, voice dripping with awe, and she blushes, whispering, “Touch me—please.”

She fumbles with your joggers, fingers shaking, and you help, shoving them down with your boxers. Your cock springs free, hard and throbbing, and she gasps, “Oh God, you’re so big—I need it.” You step between her legs, hands sliding up her thighs, spreading them wider.

Her pussy glistens, wet and ready, and she leans back on her elbows, panting, “Please, don’t make me wait.” You smirk, leaning in to kiss her deep, tongue plunging into her mouth as your hand teases between her legs. “Not yet,” you whisper against her lips, fingers brushing her slick folds.

She moans into the kiss, hips bucking, and you circle her clit with your thumb, light and teasing. “Oh fuck—touch me more, I’m begging you!” she cries, voice quivering, her body trembling under your control. You graze her entrance, barely dipping in, and she whines, “Please, I need your fingers—tease me more and I’ll lose it!”

“You want it that bad?” you taunt, voice low, dragging your fingers along her folds, avoiding her clit. “Yes—fuck, yes, I’m dying for it!” she sobs, her hands gripping the counter, flour puffing around her. “Please, put them in me—I can’t take this!”

You prolong the torture, tracing her pussy’s edges, feeling her drip onto your hand. “Tell me how bad you want it,” you growl, lips brushing her ear. “So fucking bad—I need you inside me, please, I’m begging!” she wails, her hips rolling desperately.

Finally, you slide two fingers into her tight, soaking heat, and she screams, “Yes—oh my God, that’s it!” Her pussy clamps down, hot and slick, and you pump slowly, curling them deep. “Fuck, you feel so good—so deep, don’t stop!” she moans, voice loud and raw.

“Like that, huh?” you rasp, thrusting harder, your thumb teasing her clit in slow circles. “Yes—holy shit, it’s amazing!” she gasps, her head tipping back, flour dusting her hair. “You’re driving me crazy—feels so fucking good!”

Her walls flutter around your fingers, squeezing tight as you pick up the pace. “Oh God, I’m gonna explode—keep going!” she cries, her hips grinding against your hand, her juices coating you. “You’re so good—so fucking perfect inside me!”

You suck a mark into her neck, thrusting relentlessly, and she groans, “Yes—right there, it’s insane!” Her moans fill the kitchen, loud and unrestrained, her breasts bouncing as she writhes. “I can’t—fuck, it’s too good, please don’t stop!”

“Cum for me, Jimin—let me hear you,” you growl, thumb pressing hard on her clit, fingers curling to hit her sweet spot. “Oh fuck—I’m cumming, yes!” she screams, her pussy pulsing wildly, gripping your fingers as her orgasm rips through her, juices soaking your hand.

“So good—so fucking good!” she pants, riding the waves, her voice breaking with each shudder. You keep moving, drawing out every cry, her body shaking, “Oh God, you’re amazing—I can’t stop cumming!”

When she quiets, you pull your fingers out, gripping your cock, guiding it to her dripping entrance. “Ready for me?” you ask, voice rough. “Yes—fuck me, please!” she begs, eyes pleading, and you thrust in slow and deep.

“Oh shit—you’re so big, it’s perfect!” she groans, her pussy stretching tight around you, warm and wet. You both moan, and you grip her hips, starting a steady rhythm. “Goddamn, you’re tight—feels incredible,” you rasp, thrusting deep.

“Harder—please, fuck me harder!” she cries, legs wrapping around your waist, heels digging into your back. You slam into her, the counter creaking, flour puffing into the air. “Yes—like that, don’t stop!” she screams, nails clawing your shoulders.

You lean down, sucking her nipple, tongue flicking the hard peak, and she gasps, “Fuck—right there, it’s so good!” Her pussy tightens, fluttering around your cock, and you growl, “You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

“Yes—oh God, make me cum!” she pleads, and you rub her clit hard, thrusting deeper. “I’m there—fuck, I’m cumming!” she wails, her orgasm crashing over her, pussy pulsing, soaking you. “You’re unreal—cum with me!” she begs, and you do, groaning, “Fuck, Jimin!” as you spill inside her, hot and thick.

Panting, you stay connected, her legs still locked around you, her chest pressed to yours. “Holy shit, that was insane,” she whispers, pulling you into a tender kiss. “I love you—so much,” she murmurs, flour streaking her face.

“I love you too,” you reply, brushing a flour-dusted strand from her eyes. The messy kitchen is a testament to your wild, beautiful connection.

As the afterglow of your passionate encounter settles over the kitchen, you and Jimin linger in each other’s arms, the flour-dusted counter a testament to your intimacy. Her breathing steadies against your chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, and you press a tender kiss to her forehead, savoring the quiet moment. The thought of her leaving soon weighs on you, but you push it aside, wanting to make the most of her remaining time. “How about we go out for dinner?” you suggest, your voice soft but hopeful. “Somewhere nice, just the two of us.” Jimin’s eyes light up, a smile spreading across her face, and she nods eagerly. “That sounds perfect,” she replies, her tone warm, unaware that this decision will cast a shadow over your future.

You both clean up, wiping the flour from your skin and changing into fresh clothes—Jimin in a casual sweater and jeans, her hair pulled into a loose bun, and you in a simple button-up and trousers. The drive to a cozy Italian restaurant is filled with laughter and shared glances, the evening unfolding like a dream. The dimly lit dining room offers a secluded corner table, and you order pasta and wine, feeding each other bites across the table, your hands brushing as you share romantic moments—her leaning in for a quick kiss, you wiping a smudge of sauce from her lip. Unbeknownst to you, paparazzi lurk outside, their camera lens capturing every tender exchange through the window, the flashes unnoticed in the warm ambiance.

The night ends too soon, and early the next morning, you drive Jimin to meet her groupmates at the airport for her flight to the next concert destination. The sky is still dark, the air crisp as you pull up to the terminal, her suitcase in the trunk. You help her out, pulling her into a tight hug, your lips meeting hers in a lingering kiss that tastes of goodbye. “I’ll call you when I land,” she whispers, her eyes shimmering with emotion, and you nod, watching her join Winter, Ningning, and Giselle before they disappear into the terminal. Exhausted, you return home, the house feeling emptier without her, and collapse into bed, drifting into a deep sleep.

Your slumber is shattered hours later by a relentless barrage of notifications—your phone buzzing with messages and calls from your teammates, friends, and family. Groggy, you fumble for the device, the screen lighting up with texts like “Is it true about you and Karina?!” and “Mate, you’re all over the news!” Panic sets in as you open a news app, and there it is—a headline screaming “Manchester United Star Dating K-Pop Idol Karina!” accompanied by those stolen photos of your dinner, your faces clear as you shared that intimate meal. 

Your mind spirals into chaos, images flashing of the paparazzi, the public scrutiny, and the potential fallout for Jimin’s career. Your first instinct is to call her, to hear her voice, and figure this out together, but her phone is switched off. You try again, then a third time, the automated message cutting through each attempt, and the silence that follows terrifies you. Your heart pounds, fear gripping you as you wonder how this will affect her, her group, and the fragile love you’ve built, the uncertainty leaving you frozen in your bed.

The weight of the unfolding media storm presses heavily on your shoulders as you head to training, your mind a chaotic whirlwind of worry and guilt. The drive to the training ground, usually a time for mental preparation, is filled with dread, your fingers gripping the steering wheel too tightly, your jaw clenched as you replay the images of those paparazzi photos in your mind. You can’t stop thinking about Jimin—how she must be feeling, whether she’s okay, why she hasn’t called. The silence from her end is a knife twisting in your gut, each unanswered call amplifying your fear that this scandal might have pushed her away for good.

As you pull into the training facility, your worst fears materialize—a swarm of reporters and photographers crowds the entrance, their cameras flashing aggressively as they shout your name. “Are you dating Karina?” “How long have you been together?” “What does this mean for your career?” The barrage of questions hits you like a tidal wave, your heart pounding in your chest as you push through the throng, keeping your head down, your lips pressed into a tight line. The scrutiny is suffocating, the flashing lights blinding, and you feel a raw, exposed vulnerability you’ve never experienced before. Your teammates, already on the pitch, glance over with curious expressions, but you can’t meet their eyes, the shame and anxiety coiling tighter around you.

Inside, you’re summoned to the manager’s office, the familiar space now feeling like a courtroom as you step through the door. Your manager, a stern but fair man with experience handling high-profile players, sits behind his desk, his expression unreadable. You brace yourself, expecting a reprimand, your stomach churning with the fear that this could jeopardize your place on the team. But he leans back in his chair, his tone calm yet firm. “I don’t care what happens off the pitch,” he says, his voice steady. “Your personal life is yours. But I’ll be clear—your performance cannot slip. The media will eat you alive if you let this affect your game. Stay focused.” His words are both a relief and a warning, the pressure to perform now layered with the chaos of your personal life. You nod, muttering a quiet “Understood, sir,” but as you leave his office, the weight of his expectations settles heavily on your already burdened shoulders.

Days crawl by, each one an agonizing stretch of silence from Jimin, and the weight of her absence presses down on you like a suffocating fog. Aespa has already performed in Germany, their tour schedule moving forward without pause, and yet she still hasn’t called you back. The absence of her voice, her laughter, her reassurance—it eats at you, gnawing at your thoughts like a relentless parasite, each unanswered moment reopening a wound you thought had healed. You check your phone obsessively, your fingers trembling as you swipe through notifications, hoping for a message, a missed call, anything, but the blank screen mocks your desperation, a cruel reminder of the void she left behind. Your mind spirals into the darkest corners, conjuring worst-case scenarios that haunt your sleepless nights. What if her management forced her to end things? What if the scandal has damaged her career and reputation, and she blames you? What if she’s decided the pressure is too much, that loving you isn’t worth the risk?

The thought of losing her again, of never feeling her warmth, her touch, sends a sharp pang through your chest, a hollow ache that feels all too familiar. You’ve been here before—when she slipped out of your life the first time after that night in Seoul, leaving nothing but a whispered note and an empty bed. That abandonment carved a deep scar into your heart, the pain of waking to her absence, of not knowing why she left, haunting you for months. You’d spent countless nights wondering if you’d done something wrong, if you’d been too much or not enough, the silence amplifying your insecurities until you buried them deep. Now, as the news of your relationship spreads like wildfire, those old wounds rip open, the fear of abandonment clawing at you with vicious claws. What if this is her leaving again, but this time for good? The idea of her walking away, of choosing her world over you, is a torment that seeps into every corner of your being, your heart aching with an emptiness that no amount of training can distract you from.

You go through the motions at practice, your body moving on autopilot—dribbling, passing, shooting—but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in a loop of memories and fears. You replay every moment of that dinner, the way her eyes sparkled as she laughed, the warmth of her hand brushing yours; every stolen kiss, her lips soft and urgent against yours; every whispered “x,” her voice a melody that tethered you to her. Now, with the headlines screaming your names, those memories feel like fragile glass, on the verge of shattering under the weight of public scrutiny. The uncertainty is a torment, a constant undercurrent of fear that threatens to drown you, each unanswered call a reminder of the first time she vanished, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken trust. With each passing day, the hope you cling to feels more fragile, more out of reach, and the pain of her potential abandonment cuts deeper, a raw wound you fear might never heal.

The moment Karina steps into the hotel lobby in Germany with her Aespa members—Winter, Ningning, and Giselle—their phones erupt with a cacophony of notifications, a sudden storm of buzzing and dinging that shatters the quiet exhaustion of their arrival. Her heart sinks as she glances at her screen, the headlines blaring in bold: “Karina of Aespa Spotted with Manchester United Star!” The accompanying photos—her laughing with you over dinner, your hand brushing hers—stare back at her, a public exposure of the private sanctuary she tries to protect. A wave of panic crashes over her, her chest tightening as her breath quickens. Shame burns her cheeks, not for loving you, but for the vulnerability of it all—her career, her group, her carefully curated image, all laid bare for the world to judge. Fear gnaws at her, a cold dread that this might ruin everything she has worked for, that her members might resent her, that SM Entertainment might force her to end it. The weight of their stares—curious, concerned—presses down on her, and tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she clutches her phone, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

Yet, beneath the chaos, a fierce resolve flickers. She loves you—deeply, irrevocably—and the thought of losing you over this feels like losing a part of herself. The stolen moments, the late-night calls, the way you make her feel safe and seen—they are worth fighting for. Her heart aches with longing, a desperate need to hear your voice, to assure you she isn’t walking away, but the situation spirals out of her control before she can act. When SM management summons her to a video call the next day, their expressions stern and unreadable, she takes a deep breath and speaks the truth. “Yes, I’m dating him,” she admits, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “He’s a football player from Manchester United, and I love him. This won’t affect my work or the group—I promise.”

The managers exchange glances, their silence heavy, and after a tense pause, they deliver their verdict: they will discuss it after the tour ends, a week away. Until then, her manager confiscates her phone, a cold, impersonal act that leaves her feeling isolated, her lifeline to you severed. The days blur into performances, her voice carrying through sold-out arenas, but her heart isn’t in it—every note tinges with the ache of your absence.

The final stop of the tour—Paris—passes in a blink, the stage lights blurring into a haze as Jimin pours every ounce of her energy into the performance, her movements sharp and her voice powerful, a defiant declaration that this won’t break her. But her focus narrows to one thing: confronting management. After the concert, everyone returns to South Korea, and in a long, grueling meeting that stretches into the early hours, she stands her ground. “I won’t break up with him,” she says, her voice firm despite the exhaustion etching her features. “This won’t affect Aespa—it’s my personal life, and I’ll manage it. Please, let me keep this.” Hours of debate follow, her arguments met with skepticism, but her passion and commitment to the group eventually sway them. SM relents, agreeing to let the relationship stand, and returns her phone, the weight lifting slightly from her shoulders.

The moment she powers it on, her fingers tremble as she dials your number, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope. When you pick up, the first word that tumbles from her lips is raw, unguarded, and filled with all the love she has held back: “Babe.” The sound of your voice on the other end, even before you can respond, brings tears to her eyes, a floodgate of relief and longing breaking open as she clings to the phone, desperate to bridge the silence that has torn you apart.

The phone rings, shattering the tense silence of your apartment, and your heart leaps into your throat. You’ve been on edge for days, the uncertainty gnawing at you like a relentless beast, and seeing Jimin’s name on the screen sends a jolt of both hope and fear through you. You answer in just one ring, your thumb trembling as you press the button, and her voice—soft, raw, and filled with emotion—comes through. “Babe,” she says, and the single word breaks something inside you, a dam you didn’t even know was there. Your eyes well up instantly, a single tear escaping to trace a hot path down your cheek, the relief of hearing her voice after days of silence overwhelming you. You’ve been so scared, so terrified that she might have decided to end things, that the weight of your dread has been a constant ache in your chest.

“Hm,” you manage, your voice tight and barely above a whisper, not wanting her to hear the quiver in it, the way you’re teetering on the edge of bursting into tears. You swipe at your cheek, trying to steady your breathing, but your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure she can hear it through the phone. Jimin doesn’t hesitate, her words spilling out in a rush, her tone heavy with the weight of everything she’s been through. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t call you sooner,” she starts, her voice trembling slightly. “They took my phone—management, I mean. The photos… the news… it all blew up when we got to Germany. I was so scared, babe. I didn’t know what they’d do, what they’d make me do.”

She tells you everything—the barrage of notifications, the panic that consumed her, the meeting with SM where she laid her heart bare, refusing to let go of you. Your heart thunders in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as you hang on her every word, the rollercoaster of her emotions mirrored in your own. “I told them I love you,” she says, her voice breaking with sincerity. “I told them I wouldn’t break up with you, that this wouldn’t affect the group. They debated for hours, but in the end… they agreed to let us keep this going. For now.” She pauses, her breath shaky, and you can feel the gravity of what’s coming next. “But they said if it affects the group in a hugely negative way… I’d have to break up with you.”

The relief that washes over you is so profound it feels like a physical weight lifting from your shoulders. Your worst fear—that she’d be forced to end things, that you’d lose her—hasn’t come to pass, and the realization makes your chest ache with a mix of gratitude and lingering caution. “Jimin,” you say, your voice finally steadying, though it’s thick with emotion, “I’m so relieved. I was so scared—so scared I’d lose you. I’ve been a mess these past few days, thinking of every worst-case scenario. But hearing this… knowing we can keep going… I’m so happy. We’ll be careful, I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this doesn’t hurt you or the group.”

She exhales softly, the sound laced with her own relief. “I’m happy too,” she says, her voice softening with love. “I missed you so much. But there’s more—SM is going to accept the rumors tomorrow. They’re releasing a statement confirming our relationship. You should have one prepared too, just to be safe.” Her words carry a mix of resolve and nervousness, and you nod to yourself, already mentally drafting what you’ll say, determined to protect her as much as you can.

The next day, both parties release their statements—SM’s a concise confirmation of your relationship, yours a heartfelt acknowledgment of your love for Jimin while emphasizing your commitment to your career and her privacy. The response is a whirlwind of mixed emotions. Many fans and supporters flood social media with positivity, celebrating your love with heartwarming messages and edits of you both, their acceptance a balm to your nerves. But the online space quickly turns into a battleground as a fierce fanwar erupts between Manchester United fans and Aespa fans, both sides staunchly defending their idols. Manchester United supporters rally behind you, posting messages like, “Our star doesn’t need this K-pop drama—leave him alone to focus on the game!” and “Karina’s just a distraction, he deserves better than her!” Meanwhile, Aespa fans fire back with equal intensity, defending Jimin with comments like, “Karina’s a global icon, your washed-up footballer should be grateful!” and “Don’t drag our queen into your boring sports mess—Karina deserves the world!” The clash escalates, with some United fans writing, “She’s using him to boost her failing career—K-pop idols are all fake!” and Aespa fans retaliating, “Your guy’s a nobody compared to Karina—keep her name out of your mouth!”

But there’s a darker, more vicious side to the reaction—hateful comments aimed directly at Jimin, tearing into her with a cruelty that makes your blood boil. On various platforms, detractors unleash their venom, each message a dagger to your heart and a deeper wound to her spirit. A user named @KpopTruthUnveiled writes, “Karina’s such a disappointment, throwing away her career for some washed-up footballer. She’s a slut who doesn’t care about her fans.” Another, @AntiAespaForever, posts, “She’s pathetic, chasing a guy while her group suffers—Karina’s a selfish idiot!” A particularly vile comment under a news article reads, “Karina should just quit. She’s a disgrace to K-pop, sleeping her way to headlines. Hope her career tanks and she fades into nothing.” The cruelty of these words cuts deep, a bitter reminder of the cost of your love being public, and you can’t help but worry about how Jimin is handling it, imagining the pain she must feel seeing herself reduced to such hateful labels.

The days following the public statements are a turbulent storm of emotions, the internet a battleground of support, fanwars, and vitriol. While many fans rally behind you and Jimin, flooding your social media with messages like “They’re so cute together! Love wins!” and “Protect these two at all costs,” the fanwar between Manchester United and Aespa supporters rages on, adding fuel to the fire. United fans post captions like, “Our lad’s too good for her—she’s just a publicity stunt!” while Aespa fans counter with, “Karina’s a queen, your team’s just jealous of her shine!” The hateful comments targeting Jimin multiply, piling up under every post about your relationship, each one a fresh wound. Another user, @HateKarinaNow, writes, “She’s a talentless fake—using a guy to stay relevant. K-pop doesn’t need her!” The brutality of these attacks makes your stomach churn, a mix of anger and helplessness boiling inside you as you picture Jimin reading them, her heart breaking under the weight of the cruelty, her confidence shaken by the relentless onslaught against her character.

At SM Entertainment, the initial wave of hate catches management off guard, and whispers circulate about whether Karina should lay low for a while to let the storm pass. The pressure mounts as they monitor the negative comments, their concern for Aespa’s image growing with each hateful post. Meanwhile, you’re grappling with your own frustration, the distance between you and Jimin making it harder to shield her from the onslaught. One evening, your phone buzzes with an incoming call from her, and you answer immediately, expecting her usual warmth. But instead, you hear the unmistakable sound of her crying—soft, broken sobs that pierce through you like a knife.

“Jimin, what’s wrong?” you ask, your voice laced with worry, your heart sinking as her cries continue. She doesn’t respond at first, just sniffles, and the silence on her end only heightens your panic. “Babe, please—talk to me. What’s going on?” you press, your tone gentle but firm, desperate to understand.

After a long pause, her voice comes through, trembling and raw. “It’s… it’s the messages,” she confesses, her words punctuated by shaky breaths. “Some of them—they’ve been getting to me. People saying I’m a disappointment, that I’m ruining my career, that I don’t deserve to be in Aespa. They’re calling me horrible things, and I… I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry, but it hurts so much.” Her voice breaks again, and the sound of her pain shatters something inside you, a fierce protectiveness surging to the surface.

“Jimin, I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice thick with emotion, your own eyes stinging with tears. “You don’t deserve any of this. Those people—they don’t know you, they don’t know us. I’m not going to let this continue.” The anger in your chest hardens into resolve, and you make a decision right then, your love for her outweighing any fear of backlash. “I’m going to sue everyone who’s been leaving those disgusting comments about you,” you declare, your tone unwavering. “I’ll make sure they face consequences. No one gets to hurt you like this—not while I’m here.”

True to your word, you work with your legal team over the next few days, announcing publicly that you’ll be taking legal action against those responsible for the hateful comments targeting Jimin. The statement, released through your management, is clear and firm: “I will not stand by while my partner is subjected to vile, baseless attacks. Legal action will be pursued against those who have posted defamatory and harmful comments about Karina.” The news spreads like wildfire, and the impact is immediate. The popularity of your relationship skyrockets and fans and even neutral observers rally behind your protective stance. Posts begin to flood in with captions like “This man loves her—look at him fighting for Karina!” and “Respect for standing up for his girl. That’s true love.” The tide turns, and the public begins to see the depth of your care for her, the lengths you’re willing to go to shield her from harm.

Those who were still against your relationship—lurking in the shadows of anonymity—suddenly go silent, unwilling to risk the legal repercussions of their hateful words. The comments sections transform, the venom replaced by admiration and support, with messages like “I was wrong about them—they’re perfect together” and “Karina deserves someone who fights for her like this.” The shift in public perception is a balm to your frayed nerves, and though the scars of the initial hate linger, the knowledge that you’ve protected Jimin, that you’ve shown the world how much you love her, fills you with quiet, resolute pride.

The shift in public perception, fueled by your fierce defense of Jimin, prompts SM Entertainment to seize the moment, leveraging the global spotlight on Karina to elevate Aespa’s international presence. They selected her to represent the group at Paris Fashion Week, partnering with Prada, where she’ll don a stunning ensemble—a floral-patterned dress with a delicate blend of soft peach and green hues, adorned with intricate leaf motifs, paired with a ruffled white collar and cuffs dotted with tiny polka dots. The outfit hugs her figure elegantly, the tied sash accentuating her waist, and her long, dark hair cascades in loose waves, framing her face with natural grace. Unbeknownst to her, you’ve also been invited by a sponsor, keeping it a secret to surprise her, your heart racing with anticipation.

The day of the event arrives, and you navigate the chaotic backstage of the Grand Palais, the air buzzing with the chatter of stylists and the click of cameras. You spot Karina near a mirror, her Prada dress catching the light, her poised demeanor a stark contrast to the flurry around her. When she turns and sees you, her eyes widen, a gasp escaping her lips. “Oh my God, you’re here!” she exclaims, her voice trembling with joy as she rushes toward you. She throws her arms around your neck, her lips finding yours in a fervent kiss, her body pressing against you as if she might never let go. Her hands clutch your jacket, her fingers digging in, and she clings to you, her warmth seeping through the fabric. “I can’t believe you surprised me like this,” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes.

“I wouldn’t miss seeing you shine like this,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion as you stroke her back, feeling the delicate ruffles of her dress under your fingers. “You look absolutely breathtaking, Jimin. I’m so proud of you.” She pulls back slightly, her smile radiant, a blush coloring her cheeks, and you guide her toward the front-row seats, your hands brushing as you walk, the connection between you electric.

As the runway show begins, the lights dim, and the first model strides out, but your focus remains on Karina beside you. The conversation flows naturally, a private sanctuary amidst the glamour. “That green in the dress—doesn’t it match my outfit from Paris?” she asks, leaning closer, her shoulder resting against yours as she gestures at a model. “Only if I get to take you out in it later,” you tease with a grin, and she playfully slaps your arm, her laughter bubbling up. “You’re impossible!” she giggles, but her hand finds yours, her fingers lacing with yours, squeezing gently. The audience murmurs approvingly, some snapping photos, captivated by your chemistry. “Look at that pattern—reminds me of a garden,” you comment, and she nods, resting her head on your shoulder for a moment, her hair tickling your neck. “I wish we could do this all the time,” she sighs, her voice laced with longing, and you turn to kiss her temple, murmuring, “We will, I promise—someday.”

The show concludes with a standing ovation, and as the lights brighten, you and Karina are ushered to the press area. Cameras flash as you pose together, her arm looped through yours, her smile dazzling. “One more, please!” a photographer calls, and you tilt your head toward her, sharing a quick, loving glance before the shutter clicks. Sensing the need for privacy, you guide her out a side exit, slipping into a nearby private restaurant you’d researched. The maître d’ leads you to a secluded room, the door clicking shut, muffling the outside world.

Alone, you pull Karina into your arms, your lips crashing into hers in a passionate kiss that’s all heat and yearning. She reciprocates eagerly, her hands sliding up your chest to grip your shoulders, her mouth opening to deepen the kiss, a soft moan escaping her. The taste of her—sweet and intoxicating—ignites a fire in you, and your hands roam her back, feeling the ruffles of her dress, pulling her closer. But the risk of being caught, the fragile balance of your public relationship, pulls you back. “We should stop,” you murmur against her lips, your voice thick with regret, and she nods, her breathing heavy. “You’re right,” she agrees, her fingers lingering on your collar before she steps back, her eyes still smoldering.

You settle at the table, ordering pasta and wine, the romantic ambiance wrapping around you. As you eat, Jimin’s phone buzzes incessantly, the screen lighting up with a flood of messages. She glances at it, laughing as she reads aloud. “Oh my God, listen to this—Winter says, ‘Karina, you and your man are killing it! That dress and his arm around you? Iconic!’” She scrolls further, her smile widening. “Ningning wrote, ‘OMG, you two are the cutest! That shoulder moment had me screaming!’ And Giselle just sent, ‘The fans are losing their minds over these pics—power couple vibes! Slay, girl!’” She looks up at you, her eyes sparkling with amusement and love. “They’re going absolutely crazy over us.”

You laugh, reaching across to take her hand, your thumb brushing over her knuckles. “They’re not wrong you look quite sexy next to me,” you say. She leans forward, kissing you softly, the moment a quiet promise amidst the whirlwind of your public life. The messages keep coming, a testament to the support growing around you. Though the world watches, in this room, it’s just the two of you, savoring every second.

The months following Paris Fashion Week marked a turning point for you and Jimin, a testament to the power you’ve drawn from each other. The legal action against the haters, combined with SM’s strategic embrace of the publicity, propels Aespa to new global heights, their music topping charts worldwide, with Karina’s star shining brighter than ever. Her presence at Fashion Week, bolstered by your surprise appearance, cements her as a fashion icon, her floral Prada dress becoming a viral sensation. At the same time, her performances exude a confidence that fans attribute to your unwavering support. Meanwhile, your career flourishes—Manchester United’s season ends with you scoring a career-high number of goals, your focus sharpened by the love that anchors you, the media dubbing you “the heart on the pitch” inspired by your off-field devotion.

The public scrutiny that once threatened to tear you apart fades into a distant memory, replaced by a narrative of resilience. SM’s decision to accept your relationship, reinforced by your legal stance, silences the naysayers, and the mixed emotions of the fanbase settle into overwhelming support. Fans post captions like “They’ve made each other unstoppable—look at their glow!” and “Karina and her footballer are goals—pure love and strength,” their admiration starkly contrasts the earlier venom. The couple photos from Paris, with Jimin leaning on your shoulder or playfully slapping your arm, become iconic, a symbol of a love that thrives under pressure.

With the tour concluded and the season winding down, you seize every free moment to be with her. During your off-season, you spend most of your time in South Korea, the vibrant streets of Seoul becoming a second home. The first morning after your arrival, you wake in her dorm, the soft light filtering through the curtains as you watch her sleep, her face peaceful, the tiger cub necklace glinting at her throat. When she stirs, her eyes meet yours, and a smile spreads across her face. “You’re here,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion, and you pull her close, kissing her forehead. “Always, when I can be,” you reply, your heart swelling with the reality of her in your arms.

You explore Seoul together—quiet afternoons at hidden cafés where she feeds you tteokbokki, evenings strolling through Namsan Park where you steal kisses under the cherry blossoms, and lazy holidays at her family’s countryside home, where she teaches you to make kimchi, her laughter filling the air. Her groupmates, now your extended family, tease you relentlessly—Winter quipping, “You’re stuck with us now, footballer!” while Ningning adds, “Better keep up with her schedule!”—but their warmth embraces you. In return, you invite her to Manchester during her breaks, showing her the training grounds, taking her to quiet pubs where you share pints and dreams, her hand always in yours.

Your careers soar in tandem—Karina’s next single breaks streaming records, her voice a beacon of empowerment, while you lead Manchester United to a championship, your leadership on the field a reflection of the strength she’s given you. The distance remains a challenge, but you navigate it with video calls late at night, her voice a lifeline, and planned visits that punctuate your schedules. One evening, as you sit on her dorm couch during the off-season, a documentary about your season plays on the TV, and she rests her head on your chest, her fingers tracing the tiger cub pendant. “We’ve made each other so strong,” she murmurs, her voice soft but certain. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Me neither,” you reply, tilting her chin to kiss her, the taste of her lips promising more moments. “We’ve built something powerful, Jimin. And I’ll spend every holiday, every free second, proving it.” The room fills with the quiet hum of your shared future, the chaos of the past resolved, your love a force that propels you both to success, together yet independent, a partnership forged in adversity and destined to endure.

[algae-tm]

MATCH MY FREAK

Max Verstappen x Heiress! reader

You have a reputation for being high maintenance, Max thinks you’re perfect (oneshot)

Author’s Note: if you can’t tell I have major writers block on my kill bill series… this is why you plan folks! I’ve kinda written myself into a corner. However, I love doing these lil oneshots so here’s another :)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

MESSAGES

yourusername just posted on instagram

liked by lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, and 5,234,432 others

yourusername : mom, i am a rich man

view all comments

user1 : a rich man yet all your exes say you bleed them dry

— user3 : at that point it’s a skill issue… if they knew they couldn’t keep up they shouldn’t have started dating her

— user1 : you females will defend each other no matter how in the wrong you are. — user3 : not fighting with a dude who calls women females

—user1 : lmao cause you know you’re wrong

user5 : I think oomf on twitter was right, she likes lavish things so she buys them and the men in her life are threatened.

— maxverstappen1 : couldn’t be me I’m very secure in my masculinity!

— user5 : MAX VERSTAPPEN!!!!??????

— user6 : what is bro doing here

— user8 : y/n’s freshly single and brother decides to shoot his shot lmao 🤣🤣

— user1 : brother run away whilst you can she’ll only drain your energy and your bank account.

— maxverstappen1 : me and my bank account can handle it

carlossainz55 : bro @maxverstappen1 thank you for lending me that 5 million euros after I lost my job! — maxverstappen1 : the least I can do brother!

landonorris : Max Verstappen let me win the Miami gp! — maxverstappen1 : No bro it was all you!

georgerussell63 : hey dude @maxverstappen1 when do you want me to return that lambo you lent me?

— maxverstappen1 : of course you can just keep it!

charles_leclerc : max verstappen saved my mother and my dog from my burning yacht, then gave me his spare yacht cause he felt bad!

— maxverstappen1 : no worries say hi to pascale and Leo for me!

danielricciardo : Max Verstappen is the most passionate lover I’ve ever had!

— maxverstappen1 : bro what? — maxverstappen1 : this is not true!

— user6 : lmao Dan I don’t think you did this correctly…

—danielricciardo : I only speak the truth 🤭

maxverstappen1: oh what a coincidence I am also a rich man, we should talk about our similarities over dinner

lewishamilton : catch flights not feelings

— yourusername : so right lew 🖤

MESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, and 4,324,367 others

yourusername : is somebody gonna match my freak?

view all comments

user23 : isn’t the saying like luxury whispers or something?

— yourusername : why should I whisper? My people deserve to be luxurious loudly!

lewishamilton : I actually have the perfect person to ‘match your freak’ he’s equally as weird as you

— yourusername : 🤨🤨🤨 I’m all ears

— maxverstappen1 : me me me!! He’s talking about me

MESSAGES

A YEAR LATER • INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 8,234,432 others

maxverstappen1 : I MATCHED HER FREAK!!

view all comments

yourusername : yeah you did baby!!

danielricciardo : that should be me 😔😔

— yourusername : stop trying to steal my man!

— danielricciardo : he was mine first!!

— user42 : this dynamic is everything

user44 : max actually bagged a baddie??

— user56 : they’re gunna divorce in like 2 years once he realises she’s too high maintenance…

— maxverstappen1 : NUH UH

lewishamilton : for the role I played any children you have should be named Lewis…

— maxverstappen1 : you extorted me!

— lewishamilton : I helped you get the girl!

— yourusername : yeah max, was I not worth the extortion??

— maxverstappen1 : what no, of course you were! I’d be extorted 1 million times for you!

— user65 : wow they really do match each others freak…

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee

@callsignwidow

@a-beaverhausen

@emryb

@c0deincrazy

@dontworryaboutitokie

@c-losur3

@chuxk-lerclerk

@silkenthusiasts

@ietss

@sp1rl

[leclercsixteen]

𝒔𝒕. 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂 ! ˡˢ²

i ain't never had a doubt inside me 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

𝒍ogan sargeant x 𝒓apper!male reader synopsis: reader is an american rapper, one with a loyal, but small, fanbase. despite this, a formula 1 driver can’t help but love his music and pushes for him to visit a grand prix, but forgets to specify how.

genre: smau warnings: i’m using songs sung by black artists for readers album, so the faceclaim for reader in pics are going to be black, but anyone can read this!

requested: yes! author's note: i immediately thought of logan when i saw this request because of his love for eminem. songs used for second wind: squabble up, pride., duckworth, and the prayer by kendrick lamar. mutt by leon thomas. st. chroma, rah tah tah, and wusyaname by tyler, the creator

masterlist. navigation.

liked by logansargeant, userone, usertwo, and others

ynsmic second wind out now.

view all comments

userone the popularity of y/n needs to be studied this man deserves every single piece of hype he gets and more ⤷ usertwo that's what im saying!! this man has more talent than half of the rappers out on the hot 100

userthree going from squabble up right into mutt is crazy the vibe change was revolutionary

userfour the different vibes of this album is CRAZYYY i love it omg ⤷ userfive right?? like having mutt, squabble up, duckworth, and the prayer all on the same album is insane ⤷ usersix i like how it feels like they don't fit together. like the different vibes of the songs and topics don't fit together, but it feels like he's just having fun and sharing short stories and not only telling one story liked by ynsmic

logansargeant time to change my hype songs from lose yourself to st. chroma ⤷ userseven maybe lose yourself was making you lose yourself in the car that's why you aren't driving good ⤷ logansargeant bro...too far

usereight now what is logan sargeant doing here ⤷ usernine he mentioned y/n’s music like once in an interview back when he was in f2

userten alr now when is tour ⤷ ynsmic when a million+ people stream second wind ⤷ logansargeant i could probably manage that

♫ y/n l/n • st. chroma

liked by ynsmic, williamsracing, alexalbon, and others

logansargeant baku was good, but next week is when it gets good. going for a logan sweep for the home race. see you in miami.

view all comments

usereleven no eminem??

alexalbon a logan sargeant pole is in the near future ⤷ logansargeant please work your beautiful manifestation skills

ynsmic great song choice 🔥 liked by logansargeant

usertwelve RAHHHH WTF IS A KILOMETERRR LETS GO LOGAN 🔥🔥🔥🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

userthirteen wait this song is like lowkey fire ⤷ userfourteen it really makes me think of logan fr like “promise im gon make it out” just makes me think of he’s gonna make it out of williams 😭😭

williamsracing our favorite american!! ⤷ userfifteen nobody cares ⤷ usersixteen gtfo man

userseventeen now who is y/n ⤷ usereighteen i'm not sure but i like this song

📍 miami, florida

liked by logansargeant, usernineteen, alexalbon, and others

ynsmic played at a local bar last night, met some cool people, got some even cooler news for you guys soon

view all comments

usernineteen second wind world tour ⤷ ynsmic not at that stage yet, soon though

usertwenty what is team williams doing here ⤷ usertwone right like ik logan is a fan of y/n but alex what are you doing here ⤷ usertwtwo hear me out, he's in miami, miami grand prix is next week ⤷ usertwone alright grandma lets get you to bed

logansargeant i think second wind is better on a stage ⤷ ynsmic i like your thought process

usertwthree i got a picture with you! it was great to meet you and i can't wait to see you live again soon! liked by ynsmic

f1 👀 ⤷ usertwfour alright what does this mean bro

♫ y/n l/n • MUTT

liked by williamsracing, alexalbon, logansargeant, and others

ynsmic and f1 second wind @ miami grand prix. see you soon.

view all comments

logansargeant williamsracing f1 while this isnt what i meant by inviting y/n to a gp but ill take it ⤷ ynsmic thanks for the invite man, even if it wasn't the right one ⤷ alexalbon sorry, logan is freaking out. he says your welcome liked by ynsmic

usertwfive bro this rapper is small as hell what is f1 doing inviting him to perform at a grand prix, the miami one no less 💀 ⤷ ynsmic i ask myself the same thing, but logan and i met at my gig the other night and he was going to invite me to a grand prix, but f1 thought he wanted me to perform, so here we are

usertwsix f1 and y/n fans how are we feeling ⤷ usertwseven im so glad i got tickets to the miami gp now only because of y/n

usertweight miami gp? more like y/n gp ⤷ usertwnine alright lets get you to bed

williamsracing williams is sorry for the mix up ⤷ userthirty nah my team is cooked theyre talking in third point of view ⤷ userthione nah your team is cooked by having logan as a driver this comment has been deleted by ynsmic!

userthitwo i need y/n and logan to interact at the miami gp please

userthithree my little rapper isnt so little anymore

liked by userthifour, userthifive, userthisix, and others

f1gossip before the miami grand prix weekend starts, logan sargeant and oscar piastri are seen on the streets of miami with y/n l/n, an up and coming rapper that is set to perform at the opening ceremony for the miami grand prix

view all comments

userthifour i've never heard of y/n before ⤷ userthifive neither have i, but i did look up his music and it's pretty good

userthisix man this dude has like 5k monthly listeners on spotify what is he doing performing at the miami grand prix 💀💀 ⤷ userthiseven y/n said that he was just supposed to visit the williams garage cause of logan, but there was miscommunication and they invited him to perform ⤷ userthieight or it's because nobody wants to perform at the miami gp so they picked out an artist nobody knows

userthinine im like lowkey excited for the opening ceremony

userfourty imagine logan gets pole and p1 because of y/n (his fav artist since f2) being there ⤷ userfourone i would bet real money on that because that's never going to happen ⤷ userfourtwo don't sleep on my boy logan alright ⤷ userfourthree i'll gladly sleep on logan slowgeant

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, and others

ynsmic what a way to start the weekend. even though many people didn't know who i was, it was still a blast to perform second wind in my hometown on a large stage and spread my music to the world.

let's go logan sargeant sweep for miami.

view all comments

userfourfour y/n is a ls2? ⤷ ynsmic he's the reason why i got to perform, so i'm obligated to cheer him on

logansargeant if y/n has one fan, it's me. if y/n has no fans, i'm dead. ⤷ ynsmic my biggest fan

logansargeant i was screaming the lyrics from the williams garage ⤷ alexalbon can confirm this (i even got it on video) ⤷ ynsmic that was you? (send it to me?)

userfourfive i love this friendship that y/n and logan have ⤷ userfoursix the fact that logan was a fan of y/n for years and now he's friends with y/n. logan must fan boy every time they interact

userfourseven who else came here after watching the opening ceremony???? ⤷ userfoureight i did!! ⤷ userfournine me as well! might become a new fan of him...

♫ y/n l/n • squabble up - radio edit

liked by williamsracing, ynsmic, alexalbon, and others

f1 and logansargeant LOGAN SARGEANT TO START IN POLE POSITION TOMORROW IN MIAMI!!!!

view all comments

userfifty holy fucking shit

userfifone LOGAN SARGEANT SWEEEEEP IN AMERICAAAAA RAHHHHH

userfiftwo GUYS MY DRIVER DID IT HE DID IT LETS GOOOO

ynsmic am i allowed to take responsibility for this? ⤷ logansargeant maybe.

userfifthree OH MY GOD AMERICAAAAA RAHHH

alexalbon MY SEXY AMERICAN TEAMMATE THATS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT OH MY GOD MANIFESTATION WORKS!!

♫ y/n l/n • st.chroma - radio edit

liked by ynsmic, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, and others

f1 and logansargeant LOGAN. SARGEANT. WINS. MIAMI. After a rough rookie year and troubles with his car and races, the only American on the grid has officially done it, and at his home race.

view all comments

ynsmic THAT'S MY LOGAN ⤷ userfiffour your logan? ⤷ logansargeant Y/NNNNN LFGGGGG

userfiffive everybody who doubted my boy logan, i expect apologies with tears and a ukelele

userfifsix THATS RIGHTTT!! LOGAN DESERVES TO BE HERE!!

userfifseven OH MY GODDDD THIS IS REVOLUTIONARY HUGE DAY FOR THE LOGANG ⤷ logansargeant that can't be what you guys are called.

alexalbon went to the tom holland school of manifestation

williamsracing LOGAN. SARGEANT.

userfifeight USING Y/N'S SONG I CANTTTTT

liked by ynsmic, alexalbon, charles_leclerc, and others tagged: ynsmic

logansargeant miami 🤍

view all comments

userfifnine we get a logan first place and gay hard launch all in one weekend??

usersixty i was NOT expecting this holy shit

ynsmic forever proud of you logan 🤍 ⤷ logansargeant thank you y/n 🤍

usersixone not disappointed not surprised. congrats you two!

alexalbon and what do we say to alex? ⤷ logansargeant are we supposed to say thank you? ⤷ alexalbon who pushed you towards y/n after the podium ceremony?? ⤷ ynsmic thank you ... alex

usersixtwo oh i can tell these two are going to be insufferable

usersixthree imagine logan just gets infinitely better at driving now that he has a boyfriend ⤷ usersixfour the magic of significant others

charles_leclerc can you tell y/n i want to work with him on a song soon ⤷ lewishamilton seconding this ⤷ logansargeant am i just a connection to you now? ⤷ ynsmic ignore him-- i would be honored!

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon, lewishamilton, and others tagged: xnda, charles_leclerc

ynsmic wusyaname (feat. xnda, charles leclerc)

view all comments

logansargeant this is going double platinum in my house ⤷ ynsmic glad to hear it lover 🤍

a/n: OKAY! sorry this was so long, but i really hoped it managed expectations @darkestmrhyde !! i had a lot of fun making it :))

tags: @milessunflowers @lokisen @kevinlolwife @op-81-lvr-reblogs @kazanskied @481rosier

[thebluester2020]

[ZZZ] Kinktober Day 1: "Praise Kink"

Summary: For recently completing a job to near perfection, Lycaon decides that praise and a good reward are in order.

Warning(s): Heavy focus on praise kinks here lol, Lycaon being typical wolf daddy here, Knotting (towards the end ofc).

Side Note(s): Not my ass forgetting to put warnings— sorry y’all 😭. That’s what I get for thinking it was a good idea to post this early while I was half-awake 🫠

Your heart was in your throat as you stood a short distance from your boss, his eyes scanning over the report you had just written after completing a job a few days ago.

One that wasn't easy in the slightest you might add.

Your client had contacted the Victorian Housekeeping Co. in order to seek help finding a lost relic that had apparently been passed down through his family for generations upon generations! Why the family would forget such an important relic? You wouldn't dare ask the question for fear of seeming rude.

But you took the job nonetheless.

After battling through hordes of Ethereals throughout the Hollows, having to contact Wise and Belle to make sure that you got through the areas safe and soundly. You had found the relic, the item accurately matching the description!

Although you appreciated how your client thanked you a million times over for finding his family's relic, you admittedly weren't interested in his praise.

The person you really wanted praise from...was Lycaon, your boss.

It was hard enough to get the wolf thiren to crack a smile, much less get him to praise someone verbally. With the completion of this job, you hoped that you would obtain both in one sitting—

"Hmf." The gruff sound snapped you from your rambling thoughts swiftly, quickly making you straighten yourself up as if you were a soldier. "You did good."

Your thighs clenched at the praise, your cheeks quickly flushing red at his praise. "T-Thank you!" You squeaked out.

"The client was happy, he praised how professional and timely you were with his request. Not a single scratch was on his relic, even after fighting off so many Ethereals." Your eyes were trained on him as he pushed himself away from his desk, walking around the wooden object to come closer to you. Each metallic step was piercing to the ears in comparison to the overall silent room, beads of sweat beginning to drip down the back of your neck out of nervousness whilst your needy cunt told a different story.

You didn't lie to yourself and say that you weren't attracted to your boss.

In fact, you were very attracted to him. So much so that a single line of praise had you nearly falling to your knees while the sheer fact that he was so close to you almost creamed your panties on the spot from how aroused you were! An arousal that your boss could definitely smell.

Not that he'd let you know that just yet, of course.

"For such good work, you deserve a reward. Don't you think?" A quiet gasp left you when he placed a hand on your shoulder. A smirk steadily crept onto Lycaon's face at your nervousness, one that didn't befit you with how potent the scent of your arousal was.

Finally, however, you nodded your head. "Y-Yes...?" You mentally cursed yourself at how your response sounded like a question.

But... thankfully, Lycaon didn't comment on it as he led you to a room that was more...secluded.

. . .

"F-Fuck—! L-Lycaon...!" You moaned wantonly as you were bounced up and down on your boss' lap in a full nelson, your hand wrapped around the back of Lycaon's neck as you grabbed at his fur in an attempt to ground yourself.

However, that proved to be an impossible task with the way his cock was drilling your insides, his cock filling you in such an addictive way as he pressed every pleasure spot inside your soaked cunt. For such a serious-looking guy, one who looked so kept together as if nothing disturbed him...he fucked you as if he were releasing pent-up tensions. "Gods..." He panted in your ear as one of his clawed hands reached for your aching clit.

"L-Lycaon!" You cried out as his fingers carefully but expertly began to flick your clit, a hiss leaving the wolf thiren's mouth as the rapid swiping of your nub elicited in you further clenching around his cock. "G-Gods..." You continued to squirm and moan much to your boss' amusement.

"Be still little maid," He whispered in your ear. "Let your boss reward you." He continued with a deep chuckle, the noise going straight to your cunt as his breath fanned over you. You let out a shaky breath as you felt your orgasm approach you, your eyes began to flutter as your thighs started to shake in Lycaon's clawed grip.

"C-Close..." You hakily whispered out.

Silently, he increased his pace, squelching and the rapid slapping of your two bodies meeting filling your ears and nearly drowning out your moans. As Lycaon fucked you, his fingers beginning to gently pinch at your clit in addition to starting to increase his rapid circling of your clit, a groan escaped him as he stuck his nose in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. He'd been wanting you since the day you waltzed into his office all those months ago.

Pleading and begging him for a job even if it was something so menial such as being a janitor.

Usually, he wouldn't let personal feelings interfere with work but...you, you were a special exception. Especially with how obvious your body was when you were around him, every night, he'd have to go into his private quarters to fist his cock whenever he'd catch a whiff of your arousal, panting and moaning out your name into his hand while the lewdest scenes imaginable would play out in his mind.

A growl rumbled from his chest as he felt his climax quickly approaching. "So good for my cock...just want to keep you here forever—" You tightened at his words, a toothy smirk crossing his face immediately. "You like that?" He began to thrust up into you harder. "Being my cute little toy for me to sheath my cock in? That could be your new job..." He suggested, his tongue lolling out to lick the side of your face messily as his smirk only grew at the idea.

And as your cunt wept out more of your slick, white dots began to appear in your vision as your moans increased in volume.

The idea of being your boss' own personal pleasure toy... didn't sound too bad. "You'd look so good being filled every day, wouldn't you Miss Y/N?" Lycaon continued to tease and talk in your ear. "Then again, it'd be so hard to get anything done knowing I have a tight sheath waiting for me so patiently back home..."

Being fucked on his thick dick day in and day-out, hearing his praises about how good he felt as he used your body, and receiving kisses from him on the daily. Oh, it was a dream come true for you! And that very dream plus the slight pain of Lycaon's claws beginning to dig into your thighs as he neared his orgasm, is what gave you that final push over the edge as you screamed out his name.

Your back arched against Lycaon just as his thrusts began to lose rhythm, his jaw falling slack, and his moans and growls of pleasure being replaced with panting as he fucked you through your orgasm, all before he suddenly stilled as quiet whines left his jaw as you suddenly felt his hot cum shoot deep inside of you, filling you to the brim as he did his best to keep from digging his claws too harshly into your thighs.

"S-So much..." You said, breaking the comfortable silence as you came down from your high.

Behind you, Lycaon gently removed his hand from your sex before he reached into his breast pocket to pull out a handkerchief. Not even to wipe away his cum oozing from your sex but, enough to tide you over until his knot died down, rubbing his fingers along your thighs as he tried to soothe and massage your sore muscles. "Are you uncomfortable—" His words choked up with a groan when he felt you move.

"No," You responded tiredly as you leaned back onto his chest.

Good, he thought. Because even when his knot died down...he planned to reward you soooo much more for your efforts.

[burreauxsss]

its over, im sorry

background: y/n a wag for the chiefs who is dating travis kelce of 3 years finds out he cheated on her. she assures herself that she'd never watch the nfl nor date another nfl player, until a convincing quarterback hits her dms.

(all pics from pinterest/ all tweets are fake this is a 2 part series fyi)

notes: posting twice in a day because my x account gets unsuspended tomorrow won't he do it!!! anyways warnings: none??

joe burrow x reader x ex!kelce smau

duexmoi

❤️ 420,494 💬 33,000

Liked by: tmz

duexmoi: ladies!! what do we think?

username_1: bro she deserves so much better.

username_2: i hope she upgrades

username_3: about time.

username_4: i need to hear about her experience with him fr.

username_5: my favorite wag????? seriously!!

*load more comments*

y/n_handle

❤️ 84,100 💬 5,000

Liked by: yourbsf and others

y/n_handle: the world is finally healing.

username_6: wym by that..

username_7: so its healing because of you leaving that man.. oh!

username_8: rule 1, dont date a athlete, got it.

username_9: you deserve better.

*load more comments*

joeyb_9

❤️ 755,111 💬 87,915

Liked by: lahjay10 bengals and others

joeyb_9: keep fighting.

lahjay_10: joey b is back.

bengals: we missed 9.

username_10: yall sucked this week, pull it together against kansas city.

username_11: that man was scared and we all know it.

username_12: who dey as always!

*load more comments*

y/n_handle 📍kansas city, mo

❤️ 82,100 💬 6,987

Liked by: yourbsf

y/n_handle: with yourbsf

username_13: my algorithm is messy since that tweet.

username_14: i wish he wouldve just broke off the engagement and been done with it.

username_15: shes so pretty, he fumbled.

username_16: her friend is a bengals fan, is she going with her to the game this sunday?

username_17: i fear travis is beating himself up about this rn.

username_18: who did he even cheat on her with, thats the million dollar question.

*load more comments*

bengals 📍kansas city, mo

❤️ 900,777 💬 120,337

Liked by: lahjay_10 joeyb_9 and others

bengals: business trip.

username_19: if this business trip doesnt involve a dub then i dont know what.

username_20: joe actually looks nice today.

username_21: hes so fine its unreal.

username_22: chiefs been deadass silent on insta since last week..

username_23: travis talking 💩 on his podcast as usual.

username_24: yk what would be crazy... travis's ex showing up to see travis lose.

*load more comments*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

conversation between joe and y/n on instagram dms

joeyb_9: saw one of your pics, you're very beautiful.

y/n_handle: thank you. 🤍

joeyb_9: i also see you're travis's ex.

y/n_handle: yeah, crazy story. i know you hate kansas city but

joeyb_9: i heard what happened, therefore ive always seen you on tv and loved how well you carry yourself.

y/n_handle: if this is you asking me out, i promised myself i wouldnt date another athlete.

joeyb_9: maybe it is, but i promise you if this "stage" doesnt work you can block me and we'll forget about eachother. deal?

y/n_handle: so basically this is a talking stage.

joeyb_9: i mean we've dmd eachother every once in awhile to congratulate eachother so... we know about eachother.

y/n_handle: deal.

y/n_handle: i need to admit this also, you're very handsome.

joeyb_9: i appreciate it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

y/n_handle posted a story

caption: im here for the orange team. w/ yourbsf

duexmoi

❤️ 350,823 💬 12,920

Liked by: tmz and others

duexmoi: blind alert!! according to a spectator fan at the bengals vs chiefs game cincinnati bengals quarterback joe burrow ended up flirting with travis kelces ex?!?!?!?

now this is awkward after y/n just confirmed the cheating rumors with the engagement speculations.

username_25: this has to be crazy

username_26: she deserves all the love she can get.

username_27: and the bengals won?? oh honey i wouldve hard launched right then and there.

username_28: her bsf is a bengals wag so that might be a connection.

username_29: you could tell travis was pissed as hell that his ex girl showed up lmaoo.

username_30: long distance might be even worse for her..

*load more comments*

y/n_handle posted a story

caption: flirting with the don julio

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

conversation between joe and y/n

joeyb_9

❤️ 667,009 💬 78,403

Liked by: bengals lahjay10 y/n_handle and others

joeyb_9: another week, another dub

bengals: hes him!

lahjay_10: f the chiefs.

username_31: y/n liking this post might be insane knowing whats going on..

username_32: i love jamarr's comment so much lmaoo

username_33: travis kelce crying in a corner rn??

username_34: joe has to have the most insane villain arc ever to be hitting travis kelces ex fiance

username_35: kermit 🤮 who dey!

*load more comments*

note: crazy ending, possible friend zone, possible rejection idek... sike yall know damn well

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Teacher’s Pet (p2)

Player 001 x reader [SMUT] 📖

Masterlist <- comment here to be added to the Taglist

Part 1

Note: reader is 18, senior in high school. We do not promote underage sex on this page.

Texts: you’re pink, he’s blue

In Ho pulled up to his own apartment. Looking over to the seat you once sat in. Now, empty, nothing but the ghost of you there. He could see you in his mind, when he closed his eyes. Your smile, your kind gaze, your hair flowing around in the wind from the open window. He looked down to his soiled pants. The idea of you so overwhelming he just had to cum.

“I’m so gross” he said aloud. Fallen? For my student? How cliche. He thought to himself as he exited his car. Really In Ho, how more bookish could you be? He let out a sigh as he started to grab some trash from the floor as he did every Friday. Blue ink catching his eye, hand writing that wasn’t his.

“That girl” he smiled and shook his head, stuffing it into his pocket. Tossing the trash and grabbing his items, walking up the stairs.

Hours later he sat watching TV and grading papers. Your number teasing his eyes as he begged himself not to dive down into this rabbit hole. To not dive head first into you. Trouble at every step.

‘Hey, I think you meant to leave your number for someone else’ he wrote in the message bar. Your phone dinged as you laid lazily in bed, listening to music. You smiled as you rolled over to see a text.

‘No… I wouldn’t leave my number around for just anyone’ you type back.

‘How do you know I’m not a dangerous man?’ The messenger wrote back. You were into this mysterious facade he was putting on. He smiled on the other end, daring himself to continue.

‘Dangerous? The face of danger weeps when it senses my presence…’

‘A beautiful girl as you? I can bet you are indeed a presence to be bowed upon setting sights on. William Shakespeare writes about beauties such as you, I never believe he could possibly be telling the truth. But yet, I stood in from of my Juliet and dared to the a rose in her direction’ he wrote back. He cringed at his own writing. Too strong. I should’ve been light and fun. He face palmed, I’m so stupid.

You smiled at the message, saving it in your memory forever. A squeal escaping your lips. ‘Then do I dare call you Romeo? Or shall you be my Gomez and I be your Morticia’ you were practically drooling now.

His own mouth hung open in a smile. Your response lightening his heart. ‘We shall be whoever you’d like us to be as long I call myself yours and you as mine’ he replied. His heart palpitated with every word of yours he read. He eagerly awaited your response, he was desperate to, would you have me? Can I be yours? He begged to question. ‘Then Gomez and Morticia we shall be. Death got to Romeo and Juliet too early and I believe we deserve something more immortal’

Your heart jumped in your chest. He was asking to be yours, he wanted you as his. Though, it could be just romantical literature talk, nothing. You shrugged, nonetheless, the man you had been desiring since the beginning of Sophomore year was texting you.

He stared at your text. Immortal love he repeated a million times over in his head. ‘I’d love to invite you out but I am afraid we cannot be too public. Though, if I could brandish you proudly, I would.’ Your heart dropped as the solid reality hit you. You couldn’t be go out socially. ‘I don’t mind the idea of private loving, takeout and movie dates are cheaper anyway’ you said.

‘Private loving? Hmm sounds… scandalous’ he typed. ‘Dare I ask what that includes’ he said. Your heart fluttered at the text. ‘It includes you, me, and a bedroom’ you tossed your phone across the bed. Eyes wide at your own words. He was definitely gonna cut you off. Back to just being a student helplessly in love with a man you couldn’t have.

He stared at your text, his own eyes wide and glassy. His cock hardening in his pants. Sex. Love making. Fucking, you. His body on overdrive. He called you. Your phone rang, his contact name on the screen, you shook as you picked it up.

“H-hello” you say into the receiving end.

“(Y/n)” he spoke softly. “The way you have my cock straining in my pants is insane” he said breathlessly. Your stomach dropped at his words, butterflies erupted in your pussy immediately heating up and salivating over the idea of his dick.

“I’m sorry” was all you could force out.

“No. Don’t be.” In Ho responded, pulling himself out.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m throbbing for you” you say as you snake your hand down into your shorts. Rubbing circles on your clit.

“Are you really?” He said in almost a groan. His cock dripping with precum, his stomach fluttering with excitement. He stroke himself slowly. The forbidden ideas of you wrapped around him and begging for him to move faster playing in his mind.

“I really am… when would we be able to hang out?” You ask. Entering a finger inside your pussy slowly. Holding back a moan as you did. Imagining his cock inside you as he spoke,

“We can hang out whenever… tonight, tomorrow, whenever you’d like. It’s not a problem.” He said, trying to sound as normal as possible as his hand made fast work on his cock. “We can stay at my apartment, or your house. I’d be more than happy getting you a hotel”

“We can really do whenever. My house is always empty, my mom’s always working or cheating on my dad with her athletic trainer, and my dad is doing the same but with some secretary from his job. They seldomly come home” you responded. You were two fingers deep and arching into your own touch, pressing expertly on your g-spot as you fucked yourself.

“Oh that’s-“ he paused to breathe. His cock pulsating in his hand, his orgasm threatening to explode from his cock. “That’s terrible”

“Not for us” you say slyly. Your walls began contracting around your fingers. “Hey, Mr. Hwang?”

“Call me In Ho” he replied. Holding his breath as his heart sobbed to hear you say his name.

“In Ho… I should tell you now,” you began to say. “I’m a virgin” an audible groan left him. Your eyes widening at the realization that he was masturbating. The delicious idea making you impossibly wetter.

“I’ll be gentle, (y/n). I promise” he spoke. A small moan escaped your lips and made it to his ears. A wide grin spread across his face. “(Y/n), are you… playing with yourself?” Your breath hitched in your throat at the question.

“Y-y-yes” you say quietly. “A-are you?”

“Please don’t be scared to moan for me. You’ll make me finish” he said. He was already on the brink of exploding. He ran a finger over his tip, a deep inhale at the feeling.

Your heart was beating at twice its pace. Your bpm well over normal rate. You fucked yourself, letting your small moans escape your lips. His cock ached to be relieved.

“You sound so beautiful” he told you. “Will you cum for me, (y/n)?” He asked. You let out a strained and quiet yes. Confirmation that you were close. “I need to hear you say it, please” he begged.

“I’m going to cum for you.” You respond your head thrown back, moans and squeaks escaped from your lips as you did. You listened to his groans. The sound of his voice filling the quiet void of your room.

“Oh god” he grunted. Laying his head back on the couch as he moved faster. “I’m gonna cum, (y/n)” You were panting like a dog in heat, your orgasm was just a few pulls away.

“M-m-me t-too” you said in strained breathes. Your whimpering filling his ears.

“Cum for me. Cum for me, pretty girl” he coaxed. “Be a good girl” you let out a string of moans as you released on your hand, grinding your hips up to seek more friction. He pushed his orgasm through, finally allowing himself to cum. His cum spurted out in thick strands on his shirt. Little flecks hit his face. You laid in bed as you came down from your high.

“Date tomorrow?” You asked suddenly, basking in the afterglow

“Thai takeout and movies?” He asks as he basked in the last moment. Your moans replaying over again.

“Scary movies.” You say quizzically.

“Of course” he smiled. “You are a girl after my own heart. I have all the scary movies you can think of on disc” he said proudly.

“Even the Halloween series?”

“How could I not?” He chuckled. You guys talked for hours.

“I’m going to shower” you told him. “I can keep you on the phone or I can call you back?” You say unsure.

“Either is fine” he replies, hoping you would keep him on the phone.

“I’ll just keep you on the phone” you say.

Taglist:

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @whamzou @amandalol1414

[thebookbin]

TimKon Fic Recs Part 1.

So I mentioned in a reply to @oneswordstyle that I had a ton of TimKon fic recs and I was about to spam them with a million comments in the replies, but then I figured it was probably easier to do in a post. So here it goes. It also got too long so I split it into 2 parts.

Scions by Winterlive (Explicit) 2008 - 63K words - Complete

Tim Wayne, adopted son of Gotham mogul and secret vigilante Bruce Wayne, shows every sign of being his father's true successor - by day, and by night. Tim sets his sights on a valuable Metropolis lab for merger with Wayne Biotech, and all that stands in his way is the city's own rising star: Conner Luthor.

Note: I really love when characters get to grow up. I think Tim was a really fun teen to read about, and this fic explores him as a young business man and true heir to the Wayne legacy. Kon is Luthor’s son and prodigy in this, and it makes them interesting foils.

⭐️ call me cute and feed me sugar by suzukiblu (Teen) 2024 - 80K words - Ongoing

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy. This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

Note: Kon is fresh outta the test tube in this one, and despite the author’s facetious use of the word “sugar daddy” this is actually really sweet. Make sure to drop a comment and let the author know we’re excited for the next chapter!

Baby, Talk Me Down (Take Me Out) by sage (Teen) 2020 - 90K words - hiatus

Tim has been working too hard lately, and everyone is starting to notice. Bruce takes it upon himself to help Tim do some self-care and ships Tim off to the Kent farm for the summer, forcing him to take a well-earned vacation. Naturally, things get out of hand.

Note: This fic is on hiatus, so make sure to stop by and leave an encouraging comment, so we can get the ending this sweet story deserves. Tim finally gets a minute to breathe and really process all that’s been happening. He also gets to experience small town life but also he’s Tim so he gets himself into trouble. I find in a lot of fics, Kon always feels out of place or like he doesn’t quite belong, but he’s very settled and has really taken the time to learn who he is in this one, which I appreciated very much.

The Classic Shenanigans of Two Idiot Boys in Love by MashpotatoeQueen (Teen) 2021 - 94K words - Complete

In which the papers get hold of the fact that Timothy Drake-Wayne is dating another boy, Kon is all chill, Tim is no chill at all, the internet is flipping out, and Dick Grayson is quite possibly the greatest big brother of all time.

Note: An attempt to explore the public side of their relationship, a story told in vignettes.

⭐️ Stars Over Gotham by madaliz (Explicit) 2025 - 170K words - ongoing

Kon is tasked by the Planet to write the defining piece on Gotham City (no pressure). As he learns more about the city's first family and its criminal underbelly, he finds himself increasingly entangled with the mob and the vigilantes he's supposed to keep away from.

or

A story about how Kon and Tim grapple with their family legacies, fall in love, and team up to foil a conspiracy to ruin Gotham's hard earned order.

Note: Adults! Self-assured Kon! A really interesting world in which the Bats and the JL are completely separate and do not mingle. They are aware of each other but maintain strict rules. When Kon goes to Gotham in his civilian identity as a reporter his and Tim’s game of cat and mouse quickly turns into a Romeo and Juliet situation and I AM OBSESSED. There’s only 3 chapters left and I love this fic so much I’m dreading saying goodbye to it. Make sure to leave a comment to let the author know!

I’m alone here, I think by unluckyloki (Teen) 2019 - 93K words - Complete

Superboy is fighting robots in San Francisco and remembers something that wasn't. There's a new priest in the Naxos temple appointed by Dream of the Endless. Kon is missing something. Tim is missing everything. One day Krypto practically drags Superboy to a remote island in Europe and there's a dark haired guy smiling at Kon like he knows him.

Maybe he does.

Note: I’m not usually a fan of fics set in the cartoon Young Justice world, but this one is really special. The prose is exquisite, and it feels like reading an epic poem. Even though it’s kind of in the blurb it took me way too long to realize it was a Sandman crossover, but honestly you don’t really have to know anything about that. I’m also not usually a fan of ‘Tim Drake has magic AUs’ but again, I can read anything if it’s executed well, and this writer executes basically everything perfectly.

I Want it That Way (1990s Tim/Kon) by WynterSky (Series) - 140K words - Complete

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

Note: Series says “not complete” but the series currently has 3 fics, which are all complete. Set int he 90s, which I think is perfect for superheroes. A lot of the mythos collapses with modern day technology. Fresh outta the test tube Kon is sort of held hostage by Lex Luthor, and young Tim realizes this and decides to save him. The 90’s setting is what MAKES this series something truly special.

buy back the secrets by sundiscus (Teen) 2024 - 90K words - Ongoing

He takes a long, slow breath. Ignores the glares from the other students. “Superboy,” he murmurs. “It’s me. If you’re listening, I could use some help.”

Or: 5 times Superboy saves Tim Drake, and one time Tim Drake saves Superboy.

Note: 1 chapter left! Don’t forget to leave a comment so we can let the author know how much we’re anticipating the last chapter. This is another love-square AU, I can’t help myself. In this one, they’re both skewed a bit younger, but they deal with the more heavy side of vigilantism.

Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once (Mature) 2021 - 22K words - Complete

‘Drake?’

Tim felt like he was choking. His throat was tight. He couldn’t swallow.

‘Damian?’ He managed.

Damian was… here. At Kent Farm. Dressed in the too-big Batman pajamas that Dick had bought him last Christmas as a joke. And- And-

Tim was wearing Kon’s t-shirt and his hair was messy and his lips were swollen and- He wasn’t ready for this- He wasn’t- He couldn’t-

How had he been so stupid?

Or: Tim comes out to Damian and prepares for the entire family to know by morning. It just so happens that Damian can keep a secret. Multiple, actually.

Note: Not usually a fan of Damian/Jon but I think this fic handles it well and is more of a puppy-crush than anything. This is a coming-out fic that deals in all those tropes, and I think handles it really well. Again, I’m not usually into the more fanon interpretation of Tim as a timid, neglected, anxiety-ridden wet cat, but this fic explores some insecurities without, I feel, straying too far from his actual characterization.

⭐️ First Kontact by Chiyana

Two years after a disastrous first encounter with an alien entity called Necros, Captain Tim Drake is given his first mission back in the field. The simple six-month exploration mission babysitting a group of LexCorp researchers goes abruptly downhill upon the discovery of a missing colony ship, landing Tim directly back into the horror that took him out of the field in the first place and leading him to his second first encounter with an alien race. Usually he's all for over-achieving, but even he finds this to be a bit excessive.

At least this time one of the aliens is more interested in him alive than dead.

Note: This may be my favorite fic I’ve ever read, like ever. This is a sci-fi au, where Tim is a captain, and the Kryptonians are space refugees after the destruction of their planet. The WORLD BUILDING is exquisite. I absolutely love Bart in this world. Also, despite the new world building, the explanation for Kon’s ostracism from the House of El is fantastic. This is one of those stories that has dug into my brain. Although, please mind the tags, it can be intense.

What happens in Vegas by Ididloveyou_once (Mature) 2022 - 92K words - Complete

57 missed calls.

Bart_ahhh tagged you and one other in a post

The Gazette (4 hours ago)

Bruce Wayne’s youngest eligible bachelor is off the market: Timothy Drake-Wayne eloped in Vegas [EXCLUSIVE pictures]

63 unread messag-

Tim jolted upright. His eyes scanned over the headline again. Timothy Drake-Wayne eloped… Timothy Drake-Wayne what?

And with who?

Or: Tim and Conner accidentally get married in Vegas and decide to stay that way until they can get quietly divorced. It’s simple. Except the Bats are detectives and the press is relentless and oh, Tim is hopelessly in love with his best frie- husband?

Note: classic accidentally married first, then fall in love. Obsessed with this fic, and the author has indicated it’s supposed to be a series, so I canNOT wait to see where this AU goes. Honestly Cassie is the most relatable person in this fic, because she totally believes that these two idiots would do something so ridiculous but what she can’t believe is the audacity to get spontaneously married on her birthday.

[leclercsainzz]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS PART 5

PAIRINGS: lando norris ex!gf / tom blyth x reader

TYPE: social media au

WARNING: // cheating implied

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

imessage

lando.jpg

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, pierregasly and 389,108 others

lando.jpg: 💗

view 3,762 comments

user: oooohhh??? ooohhh???

user: she better be worth the cheating bc????

user: bro didn’t even post her on his main 😭😭

user: still in denial, omg

user: @yourusername YOU BETTER GET WITH TOM, BABE

user: he’s finally freed from yn’s cheating ass 🥳

user: I WANT MOM BACK NOT HER

user: this the same man who texted yn that he misses her??

↳ user: the same one who said lu didn’t mean anything to him

↳ user: when??

↳ user: 🤷🏻‍♀️ yn posted a tweet but then deleted it

user: we all know he’s just using her to make yn jealous 🤣

luisinhaoliveira99: ❤️❤️❤️

↳ user: LMAOOO

user: he doesn’t even like her, i swear

hunterschafer: “she means nothing” 😂 @yourusername

comment has been deleted

user: i miss yn wtf 😭😭😭

user: THIS AINT FUNNY, GET BACK WITH YN

user: glad he’s moving on, he deserves better

↳ user: girllll, he “moved on” with the girl he cheated with

user: no more yn whoop whoop 🙌🏼

user: not him moving on to another cheater 😂

↳ user: they belong together

user: she probably cheating on him

↳ user: wouldn’t be surprised if they both cheat on each other

user: yn deserves better 🥺

user: my ynlando heart bro 😭😭

user: i hope she was worth it

user: time to cleanse my eyes 🤮

user: ooohhh nahhh

user: smiling as if she didn’t take someone else’s man 💀

↳ user: 😭😭 frrr lmaoo

user: home wrecker

user: at least miss cheater is out the picture 🤩

↳ user: LITERALLY! glad he got rid of her

user: i’m living for the drama

user: the audacity he has 😬

↳ user: the audacity THEY BOTH have

user: my girl yn can finally geT her man tom 🤪🤪🤪

user: @tomblyth @yourusername DATE NOW

user: he didn’t post her on his main LMAOOO

yourusername

liked by maxfewtrell, hunterschafer and 702,017 others

yourusername: previously on *yn’s* life 💘

tagged: @tomblyth @tchalamet

view 6,073 comments

tchalamet: i was wondering what the tag was for 🤣

↳ yourusername: fancy a peach???

↳ tchalamet: 🙄🙄🙄

user: NOT HER TAGGING TIMOTHEE ON THE PEACHES 😭

user: “gorgeous gorgeous girls get flowers” mELTING

user: tom blyth, THE man that you are 😮‍💨

tomblyth: gorgeous gorgeous girl 😍

tomblyth: you’re the epitome of of beauty

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 *besitos*

see translation: kisses

↳ user: that man is her biggest fan 😩😩

user: where do i get myself a man like tom??!?!?

user: this means they’re official right?!?!?????!????

joshandresrivera: who’s got you smiling like that? @tomblyth

hunterschafer: my two favorite people everrrr 😍

user: she’s gonna cheat on tom the way she did it to lando

user: i NEED me a man like tom blyth

user: i said it before a million times and i’ll say it again, she’s literally GLOWINGGGGGGG 😍😍😍✨

user: someone check on lando, please

user: the way he allowed her to place flowers on his hair

user: wait— are the dating???

user: she surely moved on faster than lando

↳ user: GIRL??? WHAT??? 💀

user: CHEATERRRRRRR

↳ user: ya’ll are so obsessed with her, i swear

user: at this point, idk who is luckier 😩 yn or tom

user: the way they have a “spot” 😭😭😭

user: cheated on her ex and got with her costar?? then acts like the victim?? real “classy” bitch

user: babe, you’re glowinggg ✨

user: i need to know what tom’s doing to make her glow

↳ user: she’s getting dicked down

↳ user: people glow differently when they are loved right and treated properly

↳ user: two different type of people ^^^^ 😂😂😂💀

user: moved on from lando real quick

↳ user: he’s the one who moved on quick, wdym???

user: the note 🥺🥺🥺

user: idk why tom and lando fighting over her, it’s not like she’s the queen or something

imessage

yourusername

liked by tomblyth, lewishamilton and 700,985 others

yourusername: ツ

view 5,841 comments

user: face card never declines, oohh god

user: tom’s text alsnslsmsmd

hunterschafer: you did me so dirty in that last post smh

↳ hunterschafer: i’ll let it pass cause you’re cute 😘

user: tHe text message from tom 😩

↳ user: he’s the reason my expectation in man are high atm

luisinhaoliveira99: oooh myyyy 😍

luisinhaoliveira99: beauty

↳ user: LMAOOOO what is she doing here??!?? 😭😭

↳ user: @landonorris come get your girl

↳ user: she’s obsessed just like lando

user: anyone else see lando’s new girl comment?!!? 💀

user: TOM’S BACK THO 😍😍😍😍

user: i see why lando is trying to crawl back in her life

carlossainz55: look at lenny, what a cutie!

lilymhe: HOT HOT HOT HOT 😮‍💨

tomblyth: the prettiest girl ever, i swear

tomblyth: can’t get enough of youuu 😍

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 i loveeeee youuuu

↳ user: i want what they have 😭😭😭😭

↳ user: so ig they’re official???

user: h0e 🙄

↳ user: that’s why lando dumped her ass 🤣

user: why is lando’s chick here???

user: slayyyyyyyyy

user: serving as always 😍

joshandresrivera: tom’s got the hottest back, no? 😏

↳ yourusername: 🙄🙄🙄🙄 OUT!

user: MOTHER

user: lando trying to win yn back is so real of him 😩

↳ user: frrrrr! he knows he lost the baddest bitch

user: the best lucy gray <33

user: tom’s back 😩😩

↳ user: on my knees for that man

user: ur boyfriend’s back is hot

user: 😍😍😍😍

user: his message omg sksnsmms

user: do you and tom need another dog?? does lenny need a sibling?!!?? not to brag or anything but i can BARK

user: did hunter dirty on that last post 🤣

user: SO TOM AND YN ARE OFFICIALLY TOGETHER?!?!

user: cheater 🤮

oscarpiastri: YN, HIIIII 👋🏼

user: gorggg 😍😍

zendaya: pretty girl 😍

user: tom’s text bro 😭😭 man is soo in love with her

user: the text from tom plus his comment 😩😩 MELTING 🫠

tomblyth

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, hunterschafer and 708,938 other

tomblyth: life lately

view 5,846 comments

user: he’s from district ATE

user: slide 4 and 8 are making me feeling things 😩

user: mom and dad 😍😍

user: anyone else noticed that luisinha liked???

↳ user: i thought i was the only one 🤣 like stalker much??

user: @yourusername babes, i NEED that t-shirt

joshandresrivera: @yourusername @tomblyth as you can see, lenny prefers me more than you both combined

↳ tomblyth: the only reasons being because you bribe him with treats??? hello??? 🤔

↳ yourusername: um??? not even close

↳ user: tom’s officially lenny’s new dad 😭😭 im so here for it

user: yn living her best life while lando continues on cheating

yourusername: are you entering your model era??

yourusername: look at you, woahhh 😍

↳ tomblyth: you could say i learned from the best;)

yourusername: sirrrr, you’re hot

↳ user: she’s so real for this 😩😩😩

yourusername: i love yaaaaaaa 💘💘💘

↳ tomblyth: right back at you, gorgeous! 💘

user: TOM, GO BACK TO THE BLONDE AND BUZZCUT

↳ yourusername: we need paneminem back

↳ user: YES WE DO! MAKE HIM GO BLONDE

hunterschafer: my loveesssss 😍

user: yn’s soo lucky bruh 😩😩 she gets him everyday

user: my favssss 🥰

user: best couple frrr ❤️❤️

user: meanwhile lando’s currently regretting leaving yn

user: the second slide 😭😭😭😭😭 i love them

user: yntom nation rise! we did it!!!

user: not lando’s ex liking 💀

carlossainz55: tell yn to let me borrow lenny, please 🙏🏼

↳ yourusername: so you and charles can lose him again?

↳ charles_leclerc: it was one time 😭😭😭

↳ tomblyth: i personally don’t see why not 🤷🏻‍♂️

↳ charles_leclerc: thank you, tom

↳ carlossainz55: i take that as a yes then

user: my parents frrrr

user: i wonder how lando is feeling

thehungergames: our snowbaird 😍

oliviarodrigo: cuties!! ❤️

user: I MANIFESTED THIS SHIT

user: MOM AND DAD ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: someone check on lando

user: yn, respectfully, your man is FINE ASFFF 😮‍💨😮‍💨

user: my comfort cast <33

tchalamet: 🤩🤩🤩🤩

user: lenny’s got a new dad, awwww 🥰

↳ user: can’t wait for yn to post more lenny and tom content

user: them >>>>

user: they’re such a hot couple, idc 😩😩😩😩

user: ONE chance tom! ONE chance, please

user: 4th slide, ohhh god 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😍😮‍💨😍😮‍💨😮‍💨😩

user: them being each others biggest fan >>>

yourusername

liked by landonorris, luisinhaoliveira99 and 702,047 others

yourusername: my favorite person ever @tomblyth (ft lulu) 💘

view 5,856 comments

user: lulu????? you mean delulu??? babe, she took your man

user: my yntom heart 🥰🥰🥺🥺🥰❤️❤️

carlosainz55: 🤩🤩🤩

user: wait a min— is that luisinha??? 😳

user: 😭😭😭 yn, you’re better than this, omg

user: keep your friends close and your enemies closer

luisinhaoliveira99: you’re hot 😍

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 right back at you;)

luisinhaoliveira99: ❤️❤️

↳ user: when did this happen??!??!?

user: yn and lu both realized they deserved better than la***

↳ user: AS THEY SHOULD!!

user: not lando still lurking omg 😭😭😭😭😭

user: yntom is the superior ship ❤️❤️❤️

user: are we just gonna forget what “lulu” did to her??

↳ user: girl, maybe they talked things out??

↳ user: that bitch took her man, hello?????

↳ user: lando played both of them wdym?

user: yn and luisinha??

user: get you a man who always gets you bouquets of roses

user: literally my favs 🥰🥰🥰❤️

user: lenny!!! 🥺🥺🥺

tomblyth: you’re pretty cute

tomblyth: ❤️❤️❤️❤️ love you, princess

↳ yourusername: 😘😘 love youuuu tooooo

user: lando really fumbled, huh??

↳ user: can you stop bringing that cheater back up

user: she’s so much happier now 🥺🥺🥺

user: lando fumbled two bad bitches

user: yn is such a girls girls bc i wouldn’t forgive her that easily

user: get back with lando 😔

hunterschafer: ❤️❤️

user: two bad bitches 😍😍😍

user: ONE MANS LOST IS ANOTHER MANS GAIN

user: lando lost not one but two hot girls

user: lando??? 😭😭😭 where he at???

user: they’re so cute together ❤️❤️❤️ #yntomnationrise

user: tom’s eyes, bro 😩😩

↳ yourusername: ikr??? i get lost in them all the times

user: sooo no lando??? @yourusername @luisinhaoliveira99

↳ yourusername: does that ring a bell? @luisinhaoliveira99

↳ luisinhaoliveira99: sorry who??? @yourusername

↳ user: QUEEN BEHAVIOR

↳ user: lando’s crying rn

user: parents 🥺🥺🥺❤️

user: anyone else see lando’s like?? he’s pressed

user: at least she got her happy ending 🥰🥰

oscarpiastri: cute

↳ user: oscar, lando ain’t gonna like this

user: yntom endgame? ABSOLUTELY ❤️❤️

user: mom and dad

user: lando liked 🤣🤣🤣

taglist:

@tomblyth-tsunoda @love4josh @dudde-44 @coconut-dreamz @newlifeforus @loxbbg @dakotali @f1footballluvverr @mountmaason19 @poppyflower-22 @magical-spit @nazm145 @nikolaros22 @sincerlymatakorama @36babyg @bucket-of-fanfiction @gyunheat @millyswife @onlyrealjoy @ocyeanicc @sarah-thatstings-ann @ushygushybaby @shrimpybbq @reyfolks @earth-to-lottie @smugrogerina @jenniferrvsesi @aleidag1rly @charlesswife @sheluvsf1 @omgsuperstarg @krispy-r @lwritesstuff @eutrizbea

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Astray far Away Ch.3

Adar x reader | ch.1 - ch.2 - ch.4

More uruk bonding time, the Glûg fam has stolen the spotlight for now.

Glûg fam names borrowed from @mylovelylittleobsessions for this and all upcoming chapters

You were sitting at a small table with Glûg and his wife.

The conversation topics ranged from the town to how you were dealing with the new living situations, as well as loads of proud baby rambling from Glûg. Once he was on his third repeat of the same tale with new people joining the table you were pulled into conversation by Duraz, his wife who kindly offered you some basics on uruk behavior and ways to blend into the folk. 

She carefully joked around about you and Adar, claiming you arrived at the perfect time to add some good to his daily life. 

“Oh believe me, you didn’t see Lord Father that first day. He was in a good mood!” She whisper-yelled at you with a smile on her face. “He didn’t even yell at the youngins causing trouble that day.” Duraz leaned in extra close then.

“Are you really that good of a lay?” you almost choked on air at the question, coughing and turning beet red.

The topic was quickly dropped and you just sat and listened to the men talking over each other until you were invited along to put the baby to bed.

“What, me? Shouldn’t Glûg be going with you?” With the shake of her head you were taken by the arm and led along. “Glûg knows how to put a baby to bed. Do you know how to put a baby to bed?” she held her hand out to you like she expected you to place your answer into it. 

The answer being “No..” 

“See? I’m showing you. All us ladies need to know. Fathers die in combat, mothers die having babies sometimes, still. So all of us need to know how to care for them.” Duraz shrugged as if it was all just another day in their lives, which you guessed it was for them. It saddened you to a point and your walk fell silent all the way to the destination. 

Once you arrived you felt a little out of place. The home wasn’t much, but really none of them were. The half house you were given felt like way more than you deserved as a newcomer.. 

You made a mental note to tell Adar about it as you were shown the baby’s crib. 

“Here, you hold him for a bit. Go sit, no need to be standing around.” Without a second to process you had a softly grumbling uruk child in your arms and the world seemed to still. You held the boy with the utmost care, staring at him scrunching his face as he murmured and wriggled in your embrace. For a moment you were back on that fallen log with Adar, where you had made him the offer of children and a million questions flooded your mind, but those had to wait.

“You’re not just doing this because of me and Adar, right? I mean I get it, everyone is excited for their leader to have found a partner.” You wiggled your fingers in air quotes as best as you could with the little boy in your arms. “But, I honestly just want to fit in as me, not as his lady.” 

Of course you were willing to be his lover once you had the chance to really connect with him, once the towns were ready and life could be lived normally. 

“You worry too much. You make the little one fussy with your sad thinking.” Duraz hadn’t even looked up from where she was putting clean bedding into the crib but knew her son had picked up squirming.

“Alright, all done. Come here so I can teach ya.” The gesture was firm but kind, and easily rid your mind of more thoughts that were about to slip in. 

You supposed you were handing Glazraum back to his mother, but upon trying you were firmly denied and informed you’d be doing the work yourself. 

"You mortals learn by doing too, yes? So you’re doing. I’ll talk and you do.” With arms crossed you were watched like a hawk as you followed the instructions that you were given. It felt strange to do all of it with the mother just watching. Luckily her instructions were clear and her voice seemed to keep the little one calm even with your racing nerves. 

You were on your knees beside the crib, letting the boy grab at your fingers and play a little, making sure he wasn’t uncomfortable and gently tucked him in. 

“Look at you, doing good.” 

A while after the three of you had left the table, the men had all finished their tales and moved along. Glûg made his way home when he fell into step with Adar, who’s home stood near his. Their conversation was mostly about today’s progress and developments. Simple updates that, on Glûg’s part ended with you heading to his home to assist in putting his son to bed. “I’m sure she’ll settle into the group soon enough. She’s still wary but it’ll be good once she gets to know us better.” Glûg could sense the uncertainty in his Lord Father around the topic of you. He had caught on with the annoyances the situation had caused among the other Southlanders. He even had one of them killed for trying to move onto him, claiming he’d benefit from having an experienced woman for his pleasure. She had tried so desperately to stay alive within her own comforts and dared to make a crude comment about he deserved better, calling you forgettable and weak among a bunch of other terms he had quickly tuned out.

Their conversation died down at the last strides to Glûg’s home, where he opened the front cloth and instead of entering, just watched for a moment. Their son’s crib was next to their bed, easy to see from the door. 

“You’re not just doing this because of me and Adar, right?” Adar’s ears perked up at the sound of his name, listening in on the conversation happening more closely now. He smiled when he watched you bring comfort to the young uruk boy. It was something he never thought he’d see, a mortal treating his kind with respect, and love even. 

Up to this point his heart only had space for his kin. His children. But now a new spark lit, embers smoldering dim but warming. 

Him and Glûg had been spotted already by the ever watchful mother who dared to wink at her Lord Father in a knowing matter. It was enough for him to officially call it a day, wishing Glûg a good evening with his family as quietly as possible before moving on.

“Look at you, doing good.” Glûg’s voice sounded from the home’s entrance. “You’d fit in perfectly with the caretakers.  I’m sure Lord Father would think so, too." With a quick glance to his wife he smiled and got closer, kneeling down beside you to say goodnight to Glazraum who had gotten all energized at the sound of his father’s voice.

“Come on now, little fighter, you were almost sleeping.” You cooed at the child making grabby hands at his father, who happily reached out to lend a finger to grab and gnaw at. It was your turn to watch now, as Glûg let his son play with his hand until he dozed off. 

“This doesn’t count as me failing to put him to bed now does it? I can’t help he likes his dad so much he doesn't wanna sleep.” You spoke softly as to not wake up the child now that he was fully asleep in his crib. Both parents had to put in effort not to burst out laughing and happily assured you that your actions were all perfectly fine. 

After a few more kind words you all called it a night and you set off to your home. 

The walk wasn’t far, but you did pass the sleeping grounds of the Southlanders still around, and none of them had been asleep yet. It was clear as day none of them found your treatment fair, seeing they worked their days away for scraps while you were allowed to roam free and settle in, and be fed whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. 

As you passed you caught murmuring, paired with stares and sneers. ‘Saw her walk off with a mother and child earlier, all cozy. Fake woman.’

“I bet she shared a bed with both of them.” One spoke louder, sure to make you hear him. “Was your royal boyfriend too busy? Did you have to go to his second in command to get your fill?” 

With your head held high you chose to ignore the callout. You knew they were wrong and you did not need to explain your actions to those who wouldn’t listen anyways. Still something inside of you wished to scream at them.

They were once your friends, your company. A part of you still saw them like that, but all they saw in their eyes was a liar. A fake you who according to them stopped caring for your true family in favor of your own comfort.

“What? Too good to talk to us now?” You heard him scoff. “You’re nothing more than the orcs’ harlot.”

The insults and implications had you furious, the last one enough to make you snap back. 

“The uruk treat me kindly because I respect them!” Your outburst had the others look up from their conversation too, as well as a couple uruks who were passing by. “They aren’t monsters. Maybe if you realized that, you wouldn’t be sleeping in the dirt right now.”

You looked over the group who were all clearly not planning to change their disgust towards the uruk. All except for one boy who had his face hidden in his too large mug of water. He was a shy one, moved in from Hordern just before it fell. He never spoke much.

He was the only one not currently throwing words that offended both you and the uruk. They felt big for a moment, all tearing into just you until something flew past and hit the log the men sat on with a loud thud.

A thick kleaver-like object stuck deep into the wood as a loud growling came from behind you. 

You spotted broad shoulders and large tusks, a missing eye and a thick leather apron. The cook you met earlier had overheard the ruckus and came to settle it. Krod was his name.

“Lady shows care for us, for the little ones, too. While all you do is chase them off when the boys offer help.” The angry look he gave the men as he stalked closer worked. It even creeped you out to an extent. “All you do is whine and complain, insult us and refuse to work together with our kind.” With a snap of his jaw he scared off the toughest humans and retrieved his kleaver, pointing it at the group. “If you want to be treated better, be better.”

The uruk’s last words were a clear warning, making the ones who barked the loudest walk off with their tails between their legs. He let out an angry huff as he walked back over to you and right before you went from a menacing big beast to a gentle giant with a wide toothy smile.

“Let me walk with you. Rude folk won’t bother you.” With a soft pat to your shoulder blade he had you fall into step towards your home. “Name’s Krod. Was the food good today? We need to make new plans for food, not many supplies in the ashlands now.” 

You looked up in surprise, to you the food was good. You gave him your name and assured him the food he prepared was tasty and filling. 

“The stew was so nice! The smell had me drooling in line already. And I had more than enough with just one portion, even with my small breakfast.” 

You earned a surprised look from beside you. “You mortals really eat just small bits like that? That’s enough?” 

“Look at how big you are compared to me! I’m just a tiny mortal, I’m not as active as all the uruk around working all day.” You gestured between the two of you, grand and giggling at the look of calculation and eventually understanding you got. 

“Smart little mortal. "Fun lady, too.” He gave you a kind pat on your head before bidding you a goodnight as you had reached your home.

You mind was still running a million miles an hour because of the trouble with the others. Their voices repeating in your head as you tried to focus on Krod’s voice to drown them out and while it almost worked you still slept, haunted by your former friends. 

[thisoneblackjacket]

ok there's a million and one things going through my head right now due to this amazing update but 1 of those things is regarding Eddie's gift list for the neighbors-

Looks like it might have been just him scribbling out an error, but I'd like to think that he drew that scribble cloud next to Sally's name out of frustration/irritation

Maybe because he is aware of how differently Sally treats him in compared to the others (only referring to him as mailman, dismissing what he has to say at times) and has a bit of animosity towards her for it?

Or just the likely fact that she's probably very difficult to try to find a gift for, given her likely huge expectations (she deserves only the BEST gifts ✨...) ?

Also I swear I thought he wrote "Migraine" as his gift to her (funny if so, cause that implies that he is again aware that Sally is not fond of him), but I think I'm misreading it (it's tough for me to tell and I think there's a few missing letters anyway)

I really want to look at more of these notes when I get the chance, but this has been my "overanalyzing and reading way into probably the least important stuff" segment

EDIT: Okay that definitely says "mirror" instead, I can't read smh

[munsonslove]

Five Times (part one: 1-3)

(18+ only)

summary: A stressful day at work leads to Eddie promising to make you cum over and over until your head is empty.

wordcount: 4.7k

tags/warnings: fem!sub!reader, dom!Eddie, established relationship, smut, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, choking, spitting in mouth, hair pulling, biting, squirting, overstim, dacryphilia, fingering (fem receiving), oral (fem receiving), he’s kinda mean in this but like in a you want him to be a lil mean to you way not like he’s an actual asshole way

a/n: listen. i’ve had a very stressful year and the idea of just being allowed to be dumb and not have to worry about anything is very appealing. part 2 with more smut to come...

Today marked the one month anniversary since your (well deserved) promotion. You could finally say with confidence that your career was more than just taking notes and getting coffee for those in higher up positions. Still, this growth came with hard work, late nights, stress, and snide remarks from the men at the office who chalked your success up to low cut shirts worn around the boss. Which is ridiculous cause you’re not even sure that man had ever seen your clavicle, much less any cleavage.

Thankfully, this stress subsided by your wonderful relationship. Although Eddie loved and respected you, he knew that sometimes the responsibilities of adult life weighed on you like a million tons. He genuinely thought you were one of the smartest and most impressive people he’s ever met, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give you what you needed. And what you needed was an escape from the overthinking and worrying- permission to turn your brain off and give yourself over to pleasure. 

There was a tell you subconsciously gave when your psyche craved that escape: when you pass through the entranceway of your shared home and Eddie comes to welcome you at the door, instead of greeting him with a smile and hug, you simply keep your arms limp at your sides as you collapse into him and bury your face in his neck.

That’s precisely how your arrival happened this evening, and Eddie wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you as he tenderly kissed your temple and led you to the bedroom. Along the way, he spoke no words as he helped you strip yourself of the restricting uniform of your day to day life. Heels are abandoned at the front door, a few feet from them a discarded blazer, then a little farther down the hallway was a crumpled pile of nylon that was once stockings. 

Now inside the room, Eddie sat you down on the edge of the mattress as his nimble fingers undid the buttons of your blouse and unhooked your slightly-too-tight underwire bra. Once your top half was completely bare, you laid back and lifted your hips up so that he could slide your skirt and panties down your legs in one quick motion.

As you settled into bed and got comfortable, Eddie tossed the worn clothes to the side and looked down at you with dark eyes. After flashing a crooked grin, he climbed onto the bed and rested on his knees. Kneeling before you, he starts laughing quietly.

“Well, well, well,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “Look at this pretty little prize I have all to myself.”

He didn’t permit any talking yet, so you remain silent. Instead, you laid there in anticipation while waiting impatiently for his next move. His calloused fingers leave goosebumps in their wake as he trails them from your belly button to your waist. When they reach the end of their journey, his hands suddenly grip with determination as he moves you how he pleases. Your body is pliant and powerless while he arranges you the way he needs you to be, something that he is glaringly proud about.

“You’re tired of pretending, aren’t you? Pretending you’re not my mindless little doll?” he murmurs with a smirk, and your thighs instinctively twitch to shut from the wave of arousal his tone sends through you. “Well, I doubt I could fuck the stupid out of you, but I can try.”

His assured, unwavering certainty was soul shattering. What once was hesitant enthusiasm is now teetering on full blown alarm when memories flood your brain of your doting boyfriend nearly bruising your pelvis from the valor he exhibited in washing away your bad days with orgasms. That turning in your stomach only heightened your senses, pulling feeble whimpers out of you with embarrassingly minimal contact. 

“My pretty girl,” he tutted with a mischievous lilt. “Need me to turn that brain off, huh? How about you let me play with you?”

You nod in response as the butterflies in your stomach turn violent and almost make you feel sick. Finally, all thoughts of whether or not paperwork was filled out correctly and filed in the right places are gone, and the only thing you can think of is Eddie’s burning hot touch on your skin.

“Wha’sa matter? Can’t use your big girl words?” he asks, slurring a bit as the lust clouds his senses. “That’s alright, I’ll do all the talking. Just focus on turning off that brain,” his voice is now growing low and raspy, and you feel his fingers twitching on your waist as he resists the itch to touch you. “That’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? Being my sweet, dumb girl. The only thing you’re good at is being a drooly little mess for me.”

What he’s saying should be demeaning, but it only makes you more turned on. His grip loosens as his fingernails scratch their way down toward your center. When he reaches your mound, just above your slickened lips, he slows down. Obviously, he wants to make you desperate enough that he can watch you squirm.

“Nnngh,” you whine, exasperated. “Eddie, please…”

“Needy fucking slut,” he chastises, but his eyes reveal more amusement than authority. He has to hold back the huff of laughter that threatens its way up his throat as he continues. “You’re gonna wait like the good girl I know you are. You wanna know how I know?”

Your eyebrows pinch together as you try to not cry from the frustration, and you make a small humming noise while shrugging your shoulders.

“Because,” he starts as his fingers finally make contact with your aching cunt. They slide easily along your folds, causing a choked gasp in reaction from you. “Only good girls have wet pussies like this. That’s my proof- good girls have wet, dripping pussies. And you’re always dripping for me, aren’t you, princess?”

“Mhm,” you agree as your legs open wider. The amount of concentration it takes to not buck your hips into his touch is overwhelming, but you manage to bear it. “Oh, please Eds. Need it so bad.”

“I know you do, sweetheart,” he cooed patronizingly, leaving one short peck between your furrowed brows. “But do you deserve it?”

Your toes are starting to cramp by the force they’re curling in with. “I- I think I-“

“You don’t think, you obey,” he corrects sternly, cutting off your stuttering. “You’re a brainless toy for me to use, don’t you know that?”

“Yes, yes I know,” you moan while nodding your head harder, hoping that your compliance will make him want to speed up his process.

Your plan succeeds, but not as much as you’d ideally hope. Eddie’s curious touches migrate from skimming up and down your slit to rubbing at the very top, effectively granting your clit just enough pressure to have you wanting more. A few stray tears fall from their ducts out of relief, and velvet soft lips wipe the moisture away before you even detected it. The rough pad of his middle finger glides smoothly around the bud thanks to your wetness- pushing it up, down, and side to side with ease. His other hand is pressed flat against the inside of your thigh, both holding your legs open and occasionally caressing comfortingly.

“This cute little button needed some attention, did it? Are you happy now? Done being a whiny fucking brat?” he asks, chuckling mockingly. You’re writhing and sighing, almost too distracted to respond, but you do manage to nod your head. Eddie’s not satisfied with your wordless answer.

“Getting dumber already?” he goes on to add, and his hand freezes between your legs. “I asked you a question, silly girl.” Though trying to portray total control, you can tell he’s suppressing a smile.

“Y- yes!” you supply shakily, your stutter making your panic apparent. “I’m s- sorry. I’m done being a br- brat.”

Eddie tsks three times, as if scolding a pet. The implication of that has you shuddering once again. His hand continues its ministrations. “And what do we say, hmm?”

“Thank you!” you gasp out as his pressure and speed both increase. “Oh, thank you.” Your calves tremble, despite how still you’re trying to keep them. 

“God, look how messy this little hole is for me. She’s fucking begging for my fingers. I think she’s gonna cum real fast, how ‘bout you?” he asks, his eyes glazing over as he languidly strokes your sensitive clit. “Stay still now, baby.”

But it’s impossible to not squirm as Eddie pinches and rolls the nub between his fingers. He’s ruthless and tooth-rottingly sweet all at once. You wriggle in his hold, your muscles jerking of their own accord, rutting your hips into his expert touch. Weight pushes you deeper into the mattress, forcing you to still- per his previous instructions.

“I know, princess, I know,” he comforts. “It’s hard to follow orders when your brain is so empty. Just keep those pretty eyes on me. You can at least do that, can’t you?”

You fight to not let your heavy eyelids flutter shut. It’s a struggle, but Eddie’s eyes being laser focused on yours makes it slightly easier. As he continues rubbing your clit so perfectly, his other hand moves to cradle your jaw. His thick thumb frees your bottom lip from where it was trapped between your teeth, and breaks the barrier into your more than willing mouth. He presses down on your tongue, just far back enough to slightly trigger your gag reflex but careful to not cause too much discomfort. Then his hand retreats, breaking the trance that had you fixated on his hypnotic gaze. 

You whimper a weak protest as your tongue extends over your chin and attempts to follow his fingers. This effort brings your head a couple inches off the pillow, only to have it slammed back down when he unexpectedly grabs your throat. The cool metal of his rings are a stark contrast to your heated skin. With his palm now pushing into your windpipe, you let out a puff of air in shock and wrap your hands around his wrists. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t breathe?” he asks, but the way he says it suggests that he doesn’t actually care. He’s clearly enjoying the way you’re currently clawing at his forearm.

You try to plead for mercy, but can’t find the power to form a sentence beyond weak gasps for air. All you can do is try to blink away the blur in your vision as your head gets hazier and hazier.

He responds with a merciless laugh, then loosens his grip just enough to allow oxygen to enter your lungs once more before leaning forward and spitting into your still open mouth without warning. The force of it hits your tongue and causes his spit to splatter onto the roof of your mouth. You can’t help the volume of the broken moan that involuntarily leaves you. You also can’t help the way your hips buck up- making his fingers slip from your clit, which only turns your satisfied groan into a distressed whine.

“Poor thing,” he hums while putting on a faux-sympathetic pout, his lower lip jutting out sarcastically and his eyebrows upturning. 

He leans down to gently kiss your cheek, so light and quick that you barely even feel it. All you can focus on is his weight on top of you, chest pressed to yours with his arm wedged in between so that he can continue lazily toying with your clit, much to your relief. Eddie’s nose trails along your cheekbone until his hot, humid breath is tickling your ear. Lips move against your earlobe as he whispers his next words.

“Do you even realize how fucking pathetic you look right now?” he asks. “You probably don’t care though. Too much of a desperate fucking slut. Say it.”

“I’m a desperate slut,” you immediately comply.

The hand being used to lightly choke you breaks contact for a moment, only long enough for Eddie to push himself up onto his knees, before returning to its place on your neck. From there, he can comfortably look down at you while he continues to squeeze your neck and bring you closer to orgasm.

He grins at you like he’s proud, eyes wet and sentimental. It almost sounds loving the way he says, “That’s right. My desperate slut.”

Everything’s gone fuzzy. Any outside stimulant other than the man on top of you can’t reach your senses. It was like the two of you were covered in a heavy blanket, instead of being in the cool open air of your shared bedroom. The rest of the world felt so distant- a million miles away- that you couldn’t even remember any of the stresses that were previously bothering you. The pressure Eddie is applying to your throat isn’t tight enough to drastically affect your airflow anymore, so he and you both know that this is just the natural effect he has on you.

“Are you there so soon? I’ve already rubbed your mind away?” He sounds almost disappointed as he shakes his head disapprovingly. “We just started. Why do you have to be such a greedy whore?”

You know he’s just playing into his role. You know he doesn’t really mean it, and that he’s only trying to help ease you more into the headspace you crave so badly. But still, you feel the overwhelming urge to do whatever it takes for him to call you a good girl.

“I’m sorry. I can hold it,” you try to assure, without being entirely sure that it’s the truth. The tightness in your stomach is growing at an alarming rate.

“Don’t bother,” he tells you, sarcastically exaggerating a bored sigh. “What, you didn’t think I was gonna let you off that easy, did you? Surely even you aren’t that dumb.” His face leans dangerously close to yours as he emphasizes that last ‘you’, and his voice turns low and threatening. “I’m gonna make you cum a minimum of five times tonight, might as well get one over with now.”

And with that guarantee, you feel the dam break. He never even got around to fingering you, but you had a suspicion that that was next on the list. Rough kneading at your breast and lips once again attaching themself to your pulse point is what tipped you off that he had finally released your throat. Your head was thrown back- giving his mouth easy access- and your knees bent as your thighs squeezed together tight, trapping him there. Though, the quiet sound of your breathy moans and beauty of your scrunched up face made him want to stay there forever, so he personally wouldn’t describe it as ‘trapped’. 

“Good girl,” he growls, sounding crazed and cruel. “Look so cute like this. Sound so cute too. Like a fucking pathetic slut.”

His left hand began pinching at your nipples while the right’s movement on your clit remained throughout the duration of your climax, not ending until teary begging for him to stop alerted him to your overstimulation. He decided to allow you a moment to breathe, but only briefly. As your chest rises and deflates rapidly, your earlier suspicion proved true. Eddie’s vow of at least five orgasms was no empty promise, it was an oath. His middle finger slid eagerly down your puffy lips until reaching your entrance, where you promptly stopped him.

“Eddie, wait!” you exclaim, pushing his still determined hands away and attempting to cover your mound with your own. “I can’t cum again so soon!”

He outright scoffs at that, finally tearing his attention away from the area you’re pointlessly failing to defend to stare at you incredulously. “Now princess, we both know that’s not true. Who are you trying to fool?”

To an outsider this might seem mean, but you know that one utterance of your safeword would have Eddie’s dominance melting away in an instant. Truthfully, his dedication to ruin you with a second orgasm so closely followed by the first only excited you more- something that is no secret to him. You were still nervous about what he was going to do to you though, and this was made apparent from the way you crossed one ankle over the other- effectively shielding yourself from his touch.

“Aw, is someone shy?” he asked, feigning sympathy. You nod, but it’s ineffective at changing his mind. “I don’t care. Spread your legs.”

You didn’t set out to follow his order so willingly. His brash way of speaking had your body moving without any input from your brain, shifting each ankle to opposite sides of the mattress and baring yourself to him unabashedly despite your inner modesty.

“You’re mean,” you complained with an exaggerated frown, downplaying the rush of wanting that soared through you.

“Yeah?” he snickered as his hand returned to its spot between your legs, coating the slick from your previous orgasm on his fingers before forcing them deep inside you all at once. “Well you’re wet.”

Without warning, the two middle fingers of his right hand bury themselves to the hilt before curling upward, expertly finding their favorite spot inside you within seconds. The small band on his ring finger pushed past the threshold of your opening, entering into you. It was insultingly obvious the way you could differentiate the cool, smooth metal from his warm, rough skin. You could even feel the ridge where bare skin now became shielded by silver jewelry. That bump and the sensations it caused on your sensitive inner walls were so addicting. The intensity was almost too much to brave, but after all this time you trusted Eddie to know your limits even better than you did. 

His free hand finds purchase on your waist, holding firmly as if to silently instruct you to stay still. Whispered curses slip through your gritted teeth, and they only slightly assist you in enduring the direct targeting of your g-spot. While you couldn’t see his expression, you had a feeling the sight of you wiping away the water pooling at your eyes was only stirring Eddie more.

“Keep crying,” he says, trying to sound intimidating but unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. “Not that it’ll get you anywhere, but you look real pretty crying under me.”

“Please, please I wanna-“ you start, only to be interrupted by your own abrupt gasp when he begins moving. He’s pumping in and out of you at a pace that- while not slow- he’s well aware won’t be enough.

“Christ, do you hear yourself? ‘P-p-p-please,” he mocks, mimicking your expression. His condescending tone lacked any compassion, despite the grin that betrayed his features afterwards.

“Please, Eddie,” you try again, hoping that he’ll hear your overwhelming lust and take pity. “I wanna cum on your cock.”

“Oh? What happened to ‘I can’t cum again’, hm?” he asks. He does seem to feel a little sorry for his teasing, however, seeing as he hastens to what he’s discovered in the past to be the perfect tempo for you. “You’ll get my cock when I say you can have my cock and you’ll be grateful.”

All you’re able to do is nod in agreement, being far too weakened to fight back anymore. Eddie’s perfect aim has his fingers finding your g-spot with each forward lunge of his arm, and it’s barreling you toward another orgasm far too quickly. The muscles in your neck move involuntarily, and you steal one last glance at your lover before your head is thrown back completely. He’s watching you, eyes wide with adoration- which would fill your heart if past experiences didn’t tell you that meant for a very long night (and a very sore morning). 

The crown of your skull is flat on the pillow beneath your head as a long guttural groan escapes from somewhere deep within. Your fated second climax of the night shows no remorse, stealing all the breath from your lungs and leaving your legs shaking. Eddie also lacks remorse, his fingers never losing speed as your walls clench around them. Arousal gushed over his hand and onto the sheets, leaving a sticky mess that you were too gone to care about. His comforting touch settles over your spasming diaphragm in an halfhearted attempt to help calm you after you start to thrash, but the way he drags your orgasm out with quite a few more thrusts than necessary proves how much he is enjoying this.

“There you go, princess,” he purrs. “Feel all of it, you deserve it.”

It was like your body had become too tight, cramping your stomach from the strong contractions. Simultaneously, it was also as if you were exploding out of your goosebump-littered skin. While somewhat sensing the strain of your vocal chords, you couldn't recognize the voice echoing profanity throughout the room. All you could manage to focus on was the sound of Eddie coaxing you through your comedown, his usual baritone barely audible as he shushed you and stroked your hair.

“Catch your breath baby, nice and slow. We’re not done yet,” he murmured softly, the devious glint in his eyes returning when his promise sent an obvious shiver down your spine.

“Such a good little slut,” he praised, “Probably have no idea how fucking hard you’re making me right now. Don’t have much ideas about anything, really, other than how bad you wanna be fucked stupid.”

“So bad,” you agreed, barely able to comprehend what was being said to you. “So, so bad.”

Confusion floods you when he rolls his eyes at your response. There’s a quiet muttering coming from his moving lips, something sounding like ‘... -proving my point,’ but you’re too caught up in the way he closes the distance between his and your mouths.

Time stills as you allow his kiss to absorb you and melt your mind. You’re not sure exactly how long it took until he determined that you were ready for more, but you suspected that he was purposely granting you time to recover before enacting his next course of action (ever the gentleman no matter how inexplicably turned on him disrespecting you made you feel). He kissed you breathless until that ache in your bones returned, the need for him coming back in full force. After what could have been minutes or hours, Eddie parted from your still desperate body.

He pushed himself off of you leisurely before positioning you horizontally across the bed. Hands sank into the dip of your waist, seizing both sides of your torso and dragging your pelvis to the very edge of the mattress. Then, he fell to his knees on the carpet and hooked your legs over his shoulders. His arms wrap around from the underside of your thighs, holding them in place and leaving no room for resistance. Now that he had you exactly how he wanted you, he mouthed at the delicate skin of your inner thighs- gentle nips and kisses to the left before switching and unexpectedly biting down on the flesh of the right. You yelp at the unexpected sting, and though he was careful not to draw blood, there will surely be a darkened mark replicating the shape of his canines there the next day.

“Is my girl ready for number three?” he asks, smiling up at you looking entirely too sure of himself, yet somehow remaining endearing. “Gonna drain what little is left inside that pretty head. Gonna make you lose some IQ points.”

You’re now completely engulfed in euphoria, the natural high from an overproduction of hormones in your brain is incomparable to any substance you’ve sampled before. While still distracted trying to control your smiling in this loopy state, Eddie takes the opportunity to catch you by surprise. He licks a long stripe up your glistening sex, spanning from your leaking hole to your swollen clit.

Ditzy giggles are interrupted by a choked gasp, and the bed sheets loosen from the corners when your hands grasp at them and pull. This reaction produces a smirk from the man between your legs. You feel his lips stretch wide, the movement slightly lifting your clitoral hood and allowing access for his teeth to scrape against the sensitive bundle of nerves underneath. It’s too much, and you instinctively try to scoot backwards, only to be reminded that he’s holding you in place. Though obviously aware of your attempts to escape his busy mouth, he shows no signal that he plans to ease up. 

His technique shifts from long flat licks into stiffening the very tip of his tongue and flicking it back and forth over your clit. He keeps this up until you’re squirming under him, only to relax his tongue once more and allow the muscle to melt against your center. It’s messy and uncalculated, and you can feel his drool dripping down over your ass and wetting the sheets even more. You’re not surprised the simple act of eating you out has Eddie salivating, he’s been obsessed with getting his mouth on you whenever possible since the beginning of your relationship. In fact, for those first few months, it was pretty much a guarantee that he would cum in his pants like a teenager anytime he gave you head.

Like a psychic, Eddie moves away from your clit right as the build up begins. But before you can whine any complaints, he starts fucking his tongue in and out of your hole. When you look down at him through hooded eyes you’re almost shocked at the sight of him completely engrossed in your pussy, his cheeks covered in your wetness with eyes screwed shut. The underside of his nose and his chin press harshly against you as he tries to push his tongue out as far as it’ll go.

He’s moaning into you, clearly enjoying the taste. For a brief moment you feel slightly jealous, wishing to have him in your mouth as well. You forget all envy, however, when he pushes further into you and shakes his head left to right, the vibrations from his moans present as ever.

The force with which his fingers dig into your flesh is sure to bruise the fat of your thighs, but you don’t notice the burn it’s causing until after being released. He looks up at you through his lashes and you watch as his tongue leaves your hole. With a devilish glare, he spits harshly directly on your clit before returning to licking and sucking it, the entire time his eyes never moving from your face. One arm unwraps itself from around your thigh so that he can extend out his pointer and middle fingers before plunging them into you. The other hand disappears to where your eyes can’t follow- but given how his moans picked up in ferocity, you were certain about what he was doing. Not only did his palming of himself make him louder, but it had his tongue pulsating against you and shoving you further over the edge to your orgasm. 

All hope of lasting longer was lost when he curled his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, forgoing fucking them in and out to instead massage the spongy spot inside you. This, coupled with the way his lips were now focused on suckling your clit, had you tugging at his curls while you yelled out in pleasure.

This many orgasms so quickly after one another was slightly painful, but in a confusing way that only made you crave him inside you even more. Using your grip on his hair to yank him off of you, you sit up to see him on his knees with a crazed look in his eyes. His entire lower face from his nose down was glistening with the combination of your cum and his drool, and the sheets beneath where you sat didn’t feel any dryer.

“God, baby,” he groans, his voice completely wrecked with lust, “please tell me you don’t need a minute, cause I’m about to bust right now.”

Now that you’re not laying down, you’re able to peer over the edge of the mattress and see his hand at work, rubbing harshly over the zipper of his jeans to try and offer any sense of relief.

“I’m ready, Eds,” you pant out while nodding, still needing to catch your breath.

[ally1uvsu]

But when he loves me (I feel like I’m floating) | Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x Nam-gyu

⨉⠀⠀─⠀⠀Series .⠀›⠀Trans Namgyu Week 2025⠀‎ꪆৎ day 3; emotional hurt/comfort — Day 1 | Day 2

·⠀warnings info⠀· NSFW — . wc; 3.5k

summary; The second Nam-gyu left those games, He thought he'd be the happiest person alive. But no, as he was tossed out of the van with some random player, the chilling air hitting his half-naked body, Nam-gyu realized he might be wrong.

info; Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Anorexia, likely ngl, trans namgyu, Alternative Universe - Everyone leaves (Squid Game), Post Games, throwing up, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Well shared kiss, Cuddling & Snuggling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Happy Ending, Theyre so gay I hate them: (, Choi Subong I Thanos Lives, Soft Namgyu (Squid Game), Soft Choi Subong I Thanos, Excessive binding, Bruises, Namgyu is probably depressed ngl

notes; IM SO COOKED OH MY DAYS 😭😭 I’ve been stressing over janitor AI and personal shit that i forgor ab the week challenge.. I SAEAR I’LL POST DAY 4 AND 5 AS SOON AS I CAN MAYBE IN A FEW HOURS BOTH WILL BE OUT TRUST

The second Nam-gyu left those games, He thought he'd be the happiest person alive. But no, as he was tossed out of the van with some random player, the chilling air hitting his half-naked body, Nam-gyu realized he might be wrong.

As they both managed to free themselves, the reality seemed to reach Nam-gyu. He only really managed to leave alive because he was high the whole fucking time.

The player whom he had been dropped with and him exchanged a brief goodbye once they were both dressed, Nam-gyu normally wouldn't care less about saying his farewells but.. that place made him feel a bit more different.

His mind was reeling as he walked, realizing that maybe.. hell, not maybe. This money he had was dirty, this money was someone's life. Every million won was someone's life.

Nam-gyu was pissed in the beginning when after the fourth game the people who wanted to leave won in the voting, even if they each left with a billion won. Few players left alive, thankfully, Thanos included. He remembered both of them high off their asses and complaining over it, but only because of that ecstasy pill.

Walking back home with the chill of the wind hitting his face made reality suddenly hit him, he killed people. So many people were dead because of what he did.. well, because of lights out and everything.

He wondered if Thanos was okay, at least. He was sure of the fact that the purple haired man was somewhere in Korea, tossed out of the car and maybe on drugs, Nam-gyu surprisingly couldn't stomach the thought of getting high.

He felt miserable as he walked towards his overly small apartment, he'd sleep for tonight, pack up, and maybe buy a house big enough for him to live with this money? Find something he was good at and stick with that.

And that's what he did, one would expect things to go well after moving, but Nam-gyu kept getting worse.

He couldn't stomach eating, remembering hwo the meals were served after a practical massacre of people, the food he was eating was paid with the money that cost someone's life.

His stomach didn't even have the strength to rumble anymore, even if Nam-gyu felt weak, he just couldn't eat. Normally, everyday he didn't even bother taking off his binder, even if breathing got a little too hard.

That's when he decided to go to a bar to drink his worries away, drinking in an empty stomach wasn't the best idea but Nam-gyu was desperate to just.. forget.

He didn't bother looking good, just in some sweats and a hoodie and some converses, his hair was slightly greasy from the constant procrastination of whether he should wash it or not, but Nam-gyu really didn't care.

He didn't even wonder what did he do to deserve this, he wondered what did he not do. It's something that plagued his mind everyday, no matter where he was, he always seemed to remember the bodies of people falling everywhere.

A curse fell from his lips as he stumbled inside the bar, tucking his hair behind his ears as he sat into one of the stools, head down and ordering a bottle of wine. The bartender seemed surprised, maybe they felt like they were mistaken when Nam-gyu asked the the literal bottle, but didn't question further when Nam-gyu slammed the bills onto the counter, probably having a bit more than needed but he couldn't care less, nor the bartender.

He was never a wine guy, he found it a little too bitter for his liking but today he was drinking it like he needed it to survive. It was barely past half an hour when Nam-gyu was on his fifth glass and halfway down the bottle.

He hiccuped, face flushed red as he looked at his phone, contacts empty, everything was empty. For a moment, Nam-gyu missed the constant threat he got from the people he owed before those damn games.

His vision was turve, stomach rumbling but he kept on pouring himself wine until he reached the very last drop of the bottle. The wine was coating his taste buds, as disgusting as it felt.. it felt comforting.

Although it felt good, the effects of drinking so much in an empty stomach began getting to him, he grabbed his phone and stood up straight out of the stool he was sitting in. Swearing he could hear a very familiar 'Nam-su!' Cheerily ring in his ears, that place was coming to haunt him again, wasn't it? The thought made his stomach churn, it was completely unlikely he and Thanos would ever meet again.

There were many things Nam-gyu wished he could tell Thanos, but he never did. It was foolish to fall for someone inside a death game, even if they'd both known each other, albeit barely, before.

He decided to solely focus in the feeling of something strong and burning coming up his throat, his eyes slightly stinging as he rushed out of the bar. He could still hear his name wrongly said by Thanos, it never felt so vivid before and Nam-gyu hated it.

His mind was spinning, but at least he had the decency to not puke inside a toilet.

Turning around the very corner of the bar where the parking lot was, Nam-gyu didn't hesitate to double over, hand leaving his mouth and instead squeezing his stomach as he threw up everything he drank, vision hazy as he saw the purple liquid fall.

Everything burnt, it was hard to breathe, his eyes were stinging and he slid down to his knees.

His mind was messy, scattered and trying to pick up pieces of whatever was going on, he knew he was puking, just wasn't sure how his surroundings were.

Not having much time to think again, another wave of nausea hit him and everything was coming out, but this time, he felt hands rub against his back.

Warm, gentle hands holding his hair back a little even if it was pretty short, just so it wouldn't fall in his face.

And amidst all of that fog, Nam-gyu could make out a familiar voice. Slightly unfamiliar too from how.. soft it was.

"Hold on, my boy. Let it all out." Nam-gyu could hear the person say.. was it Thanos?

He panted once he finally was done, turve vision finally falling back into place as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "There you go, good job, boy. I knew you had it in you."

Nam-gyu lifted his head, slightly shaky, and he was met with Thanos' face. Thanos was here, the unlikely probability of ever meeting him again was now.. becoming just a simple what if in his mind. His mouth opened to let put anything but he just let out a choked sound.

Maybe it was how his stomach was so empty, but Nam-gyu felt weak. Black spots filling his vision as Thanos' face became nothing but a blur, the feeling of him shaking his body lulling him into unconsciousness. Maybe this was his karma for killing people, surviving and living off of money that was someone's life. Maybe he'd finally die a slow, miserable death like he knew he deserved.

But the universe was insisting in not letting him die, Nam-gyu knew that it was the second he peered his eyes open with a bursting headache. A hand fell on top of his head as he propped himself up on his elbows.

He wasn't in his house, that's the first thing he noticed. The bedroom was a little too full of vinyl disks and discographies for it to be his house. To be quite fair, Nam-gyu was so out of energy lately that he didn't bother getting anything other than the basics. A bedframe, mattress, kitchen utensils and self hygiene products.

"Nam-su, my boy! You're finally awake!" Thanos chirped as he walked into the room with his sleeves pulled up, so it wasn't a dream after all.

Nam-gyu nodded, and Thanos furrowed his brow. Nam-gyu was off, and thinner than he was in the games. It worried him- Nam-gyu left with a billion won, like him. So why?

"I ran you a bath, you look like you need one, no offense." Thanos began with, shoving a towel towards Nam-gyu's way. "I didn't know where you lived, so you'll just have to stay here." He shrugged, and without letting Nam-gyu speak, he left the room.

He didn't have a choice, did he? Well.. he could just lock the door and stay in here, but Thanos probably had spare keys, who knew?

Nam-gyu stood up shakily, feeling his body shiver but he was also burning up. His stomach was weak but the thought of eating made it churn further.

Opening the bathroom door, Nam-gyu was met with the bathtub filled with water that looked a little steamy, maybe it would do some good to the cold Nam-gyu felt.

His clothes felt sticky as he began stripping them off, he closed snd locked the door, feeling colder snd colder at the thought of having to get naked.

In the end, he was just in his boxers and binder as he stared at himself in the mirror.

Pathetic, he looked pathetic and wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot, deep eye bags under his eyes, he looked a tad paler than usual and maybe a but more skinny.

Nam-gyu always hated how his body looked, but today it was worse. Having to face the consequences of what he was doing to himself.

Everything felt like he was being punished by the universe, from his self hatred, to his guilt, to.. just existing.

He curled his hands into fists, controlling himself to not smash the mirror in front of him. Nam-gyu would rather stare directly at the sun than the mirror.

A sob came out of him without permission, and that's when Nam-gyu knew there would be no thrning back. Tear after tear, everything began leaving his chest since he left. He was crumbling apart, falling on his ass and wincing as he hit his back against the toilet. His chest heaved, and suddenly he became aware of how much his ribs hurt, hell, they were probably full of bruises that Nam-gyu would just hate even more despite not being able to stop.

He curled his knees close to his chest, sniffling and feeling sobs mixed with hiccups leave his lips, as much as he wanted to- he couldn't keep quiet. His anxiety ring couldn't cease down the feeling of a huge lump in his throat, nothing could stop the ugly crying.

A knock from the other side came to reach his ears, but Nam-gyu didn't bother to reply. He was gross, everything hurt, and existing felt like a burden. He just wanted it all to stop.

"Nam-su? You alright in there?" Thanos asked, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear a thudding sound and a wince. At first, he just came by to give Nam-gyu a fresh pair of clothes, but the sounds coming from the bathroom weirded him out a bit. "I'm coming in, okay?" Thanos said as he tried to open the door, but instead of the door knob twisting open, it twisted until barely halfway and din't open. The door was fucking locked.

"Shit.. Nam-su, what are you doing in there?" Thanos called out a little bit louder, cursing under his breath as he didn't hear a reply, just the sound of hiccups and sobs.

Pulling away from the door, his feet heavily padded against the floor as he rushed through the hallway towards his bedroom. Door flying open as he began to search inside one of his drawers frantically, finding the keys and immediately yanking them out without bothering to close the drawer.

As quickly as he could, he ran back inside the room and began fumbling with the keys to open the door. Thanos was unsure why he was so frantic and maybe slightly anxious as he tried to reach Nam-gyu, he always thought this weird feeling whenever they played together in games were just due to being high.. he couldn't have feelings for Nam-gyu, could he?

Shaking those thoughts off, Thanos yanked the door open. Finding Nam-gyu sitting on the floor, half naked and basically drowning in tears.

Thanos froze, he wasn't sure how to approach this situation.. well, he never was the best with comforting or dealing with being comforted, but everything had its first time, right?

Carefully and tentatively, Thanos kneeled down in front of Nam-gyu. It was weird to see him like this, and the sight made something tug at his heartstrings. "Nam-gyu?" He called out. "Hey, boy, you okay?" That was a stupid question, damn it! Why Thanos couldn't just.. be good with his words?

But then again, he was always best at showing his feelings through actions than words.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Nam-gyu's torso, feeling him flinch and slightly tense up at the touch, and Thanos stayed put, barely even breathing.

And then, Nam-gyu melted against the hug. Clinging to Thanos as if he was the only thing grounding him into reality, face buried into his shoulder as he cried like a lost little kid. Thanos' hands ran through his hair, rubbing circles on his back as he felt his shirt get basically soaked.

"I can't do this anymore- I can't— I- it's.. this money.. it's all someone's life- I killed people in there, I—" Nam-gyu choked out, and Thanos shushed him gently, pulling back just slightly to look at Nam-gyu in the eyes. "Whether or not you did, there's nothing we can do about it. That place does things to people, Nam-gyu. Even if this money is dirty, you can't let it drag you down. Especially when you fought so hard to survive." Thanos said with a small frown in his lips, and Nam-gyu nodded. Even if he didn't believe it much, he nodded along.

His breath was heavy as he sniffled, sobs subsiding within a few minutes that none of them bothered to really count. "You should.. get this off, it looks like it's constricting your chest." Thanos said as he jerked his chin towards the binder Nam-gyu was wearing.

Now that he mentioned it, Nam-gyu noticed that Thanos didn't care about the binder or him being transgender in the slightest, or he simply didn't know.

"I'll leave and you can shower, I left some clothes for you in the bed." Thanos said as he sighed, standing up and pulling Nam-gyu along. Catching the faintest glimpse of bruises underneath the binder due to the flexing skin. "The shirt's big enough, don't wear this crap. Plus, it's slightly sweaty." Thanos said with a grimace more due to trying to give the conversation some sort of happy mood than disgust.

The second Thanos left, Nam-gyu let out a heavy sigh. Closing the door and stripping off his binder and boxers. His body still shivered, maybe he was sick? It would make sense, having eaten nothing but ice in the energy drinks he bought. It was a surprise Nam-gyu hadn't passed out in the middle of the street before.. but maybe not eating was just discounting its signs on how badly his hair was falling and how he was growing weaker.

The warmth of the water engulfing his body made him feel weirdly good— dipping his head underneath the water for a bit, Nam-gyu came back up swearing he could sleep in the bathtub.

But he didn't, Thanos would probably just pull him out and he didn't feel like being seen naked by him.

So, instead, after washing himself properly, Nam-gyu unplugged the drain of the tub and got out, changing into the clothes Thanos separated surprisingly neatly in the bed. And he was right, the shirt was indeed big enough, but then again Nam-gyu's chest wasn't that big.. he just was a tad paranoid about it.

He left his clothes in the corner of the room, getting out and looking to either sides of the hallway that the bedroom led to. Thanos left him alone without giving Nam-gyu directions.. tch, asshole.

Nam-gyu decided it'd be best to follow the humming sounds that Thanos was producing, as much as he hated to admit it, it was surprisingly calming.

He carefully and quietly stepped down the steps, following that same humming sound until he reached the kitchen, and Thanos was.. cooking?

He could see mashed potatoes set inside a small bowl in the counter, and the familiar smell of chicken reached his nose. He stood staring for a bit, until Thanos turned around and gave him a big smile, and Nam-gyu's stomach churned again.. but not out of disgust. Rather, something he refused to acknowledge.

"Hey! Nam-su! Come sit down!" Thanos called out, and now Nam-gyu was sure he got his name messed up on purpose.. moments ago was calling him seriously by his name correctly.

But despite that, he sat down on the stool nearby the counter. Raising his brow at the bowl shoved in front of him, mashed potatoes, veggies, and.. chicken.

"Eat, you must be hungry." Thanos said with a proud smile, and Nam-gyu just stared at the food. All of a sudden remembering everyone who died, the people he killed and... "Nam-su?" Thanos called out, and Nam-gyu came back to reality. "Sorry, not hungry."

Thanos gave him a frown, furrowing his brows and crossing his arms. "Bullshit, your stomach was rumbling when I brought you here. And you.. threw up pure wine, you haven't been eating, have you?" How the hell did Thanos get the story straight? Nam-gyu would never know. But he froze, just staring at Thanos with wife eyes. Then, Thanos sat down by his side. Grabbing the bowl, a spoon and chopsticks, and then finally, looking at Nam-gyu tentatively. "Just a bit, you don't have to eat everything." Thanos suggested with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"Come on, my boy. Just a bit!" Thanos said with a huff. And then he seemed to have an idea, filling the spoon with mashed potatoes and bringing it in front of Nam-gyu's face.

Nam-gyu didn't seem to quite like the idea, face heating up when Thanos practically shoved the spoon in his face. But Thanos probably wouldn't let it go regardless of anything, so he just sighed snd opened his mouth.

The taste of mashed potatoes filled his mouth and Nam-gyu swore he could feel his tastebuds burst with the flavor, so different from bland ice and drinks. He was surprised about how he didn't feel like throwing it all up, maybe it was because the food was really light, Thanos really could be thoughtful when he wanted to.

They repeated the same process until halfway through the food, and then Nam-gyu shook his head, not being able to really take any more bites. Sitting in silence with Thanos was always comfortable, but this time it felt different.

"I wish they dropped me off with you, y'know." Thanos said with a heavy sigh, leaning both arms on his thighs. Nam-gyu's eyebrows shot up at that, how come? He would have wanted to ask, but preferred to stay quiet. "I would have made sure you were okay, and have eaten sooner. I don't think you've been.. eating well lately, you're thinner than you were back in the game and we were fed small ass portions of food." Thanos then looked at Nam-gyu in the eyes, and in the moment, Nam-gyu felt his breath being sucked away.

Thanos' eyes, normally blown from drugs and normally wild, were weirdly soft. For a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence, just the two of them staring at each other, as if spiritually asking each other for things none of them could vocally express.

And then, Thanos was moving closer in front of him, giving him one last glamce before their lips met in a passionate and yet desperate kiss. It was as if both of them were longing for that for a long time.

Once they pulled apart, Nam-gyu met Thanos' eyes again and he swore the weight of the world was in them, and then all of a sudden Nam-gyu found out why his stomach churned at the sight of Thanos.

Tugging at Thanos' shirt, their lips met again, and again, and again. Every time they pulled back, not seeming to get enoigh of the feeling, their lips always found its way back to each other.

Thanos had his hands settled on Nam-gyu's waist, Nam-gyu had his hands tangled in Thanos' hair as they both moved to the couch.

And then, their lips parted one last time. Nam-gyu was practically draped all over Thanos, head on his chest and Thanos' chin rested atop his head. Silence reigned over them, until Nam-gyu broke it, only for a split second. "Can you.. hum that song again?" He asked, closing his eyes. He didn't get a yes or a no, instead, he got a humming. Maybe it was from how peaceful Nam-gyu felt, but falling asleep was easier this time ever since he left the games.

Maybe all he needed was someone who would get it, someone who would be just a little patient and help him come forward rather than staying stuck in the past.

[vynegar]

vyn 5th birthday ssr, part one

so… it has (yet again) been almost a year and a half since my last translation. honestly i didn’t expect to be back either since i’ve been taking a hiatus from reading CN server cards, so this is a surprise to me too! there were just some parts of this story i really liked and wanted to translate, so here we are. i hope you enjoy!

disclaimer (there is an extra one): this is a fan translation and i am not fluent in chinese, so keep in mind that there will be mistakes. please also note that although i’m translating this story, i don’t necessarily agree with everything that’s said in the story or with how it handles certain topics (mainly regarding the justice system and mental illness). feel free to let me know if you have questions, concerns, or comments.

do not repost without explicit permission. if you want to quote this or reference parts of the translation, credit and link back to me.

check my masterlist for more of my analysis/translations.

timestamps go along with the card video here. it’s not mine, please support the uploader ShiroNaya by liking/commenting/subscribing. also note that while the video uses the S-CN dub, the text is T-CN, so the on-screen text may have slight differences with the dub and my translation.

[PART ONE]

[0:31] Themis Law Firm

It was lunch hour, and the drowsy atmosphere spread through the office like a virus. Sunlight blurred the words on my screen until they were hard to distinguish. My thoughts were starting to wander, as the red circle I had drawn on my desktop calendar looked especially bright.

MC: (Come to think of it, it’s almost Vyn’s birthday…)

Last year we were stuck in Svart because of the Appointment Ceremony, but this year things were quiet. However, I couldn’t be sure if this was simply the quiet before the storm, or if Eirik had truly understood Vyn’s resolve after we escaped…

MC: (Either way… last year was tumultuous, but this year we should be able to peacefully celebrate Vyn’s birthday. Maybe I should ask him what his thoughts are…)

I unlocked my phone. Figuring that Vyn was probably still taking his afternoon nap, I instead started to search restaurants he might be interested in…

Kiki: Huh!? Is this real?!

The quiet office broke out into commotion; Kiki’s shout startled me so much I almost dropped my phone.

Kiki: MC, look at this.

Before I could react, my vision was completely obstructed by a phone screen Kiki reached over to show me.

???: I, Zheng Yan, have had my life ruined by false charges! My family was torn apart, and now they’re all dead! Do I really deserve all this?! Yes, I’ve made mistakes. But if this is all just karma, then where’s the karma for the people who harmed me?!

Kiki was showing me a livestream of a middle-aged man standing on a rooftop. His face was haggard, his hair was mostly white, and he made no attempt to conceal his pain and despair. The hoarse shouting was scattered to the fierce winds.

Zheng Yan: You’re all good people, but I… I just don’t want to live anymore!

MC: What?!

The man stepped over the railing. His cumbersome body seemed like he might lose his balance at any moment, causing several more people in the office to cry out in alarm.

MC: Is he livestreaming his suicide?!

Kiki: Yes. He’s only just started, but the stream already has over a million hits.

A livestreamed suicide made for a shocking headline. Before long, the law firm was filled with continuous sound of the man’s laments.

Zheng Yan: My son is just a boy, but because we didn’t have the money for his treatment, all he could do in the end was just wait at home to die. When he was in so much pain he couldn’t sleep, I was in prison. When he was on his deathbed crying out for his dad, I was still in prison! I’m despicable. I should just die! I’m sorry, Xiao Zhuo, I’m so sorry… (1)

He was crawling on the ground, weeping. I couldn’t help but frown at the sight of such a heartbroken father.

MC: What happened to him? What made him like this?

Kiki: It seems like he was wrongfully imprisoned in Svart, but he hasn’t gone into specifics.

MC: Svart?

The sobbing gradually stopped. Zheng Yan calmed himself, then looked back into the camera.

Zheng Yan: But before I die, I won’t let the person who harmed me get away with it!  I’m going to show everyone your true colors!

[flashback]

[3:39] Interrogation Room

The room was dim. With the only window facing a hallway, even the alternation of day and night had lost all meaning here. Worse still was the unrelenting rain – like hypnotic white noise, the incessant thunderstorm wore down even the most resilient of minds.

Zheng Yan didn’t know how long had passed, but based on the increasing impatience of his interrogator, Detective Jack, he figured his custody limit was almost up (2). Just hang in there a little longer, he thought. They had simply gotten the wrong guy. Soon, he would be free, and once he was out of the police station he could go home to Stellis. It was summer, which meant Xiao Zhuo’s birthday was coming up. Zheng Yan hadn’t seen his son since coming to Svart. Did his son still remember him…?

???: Ahem.

A coffee spoon clinked against the walls of the cup. The crisp sound immediately interrupted his wistful daydreams.

???: You seem distracted.

Ah yes, how could he forget. There was someone else in the room.

A young man sat across from him nonchalantly, holding a coffee mug. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance – except his unforgettable eyes. Zheng Yan had been to prison in Stellis and seen people with all sorts of looks in their eyes: those muddled with desire, those agonized by regret… but he had never seen eyes so clear that they made him feel ashamed. People had weaknesses because they had a goal, and this man seemed to have no goal.

Zheng Yan: Oh… what were we talking about…?

Although the atmosphere wasn’t tense, Zheng Yan still felt a sense of unease. The young man hadn’t revealed his name, only that he was a psychology consultant invited by the police and that he just wanted to chat with him. It didn’t sound very formal, almost as if the police were out of other options… However, it was still possible that this was just a smokescreen for something else. What had this person been thinking when Zheng Yan was lost in his own thoughts?

Young man: We were talking about how the different the weather is in Svart compared to Stellis. You are still not accustomed to it.

The young man easily brought up the trivial topic, wasting the police’s precious time.

Zheng Yan: Ah… that’s right, summer here is nothing compared to summer in Stellis! Xiao Zhuo’s mom would always make a big pot of mung bean soup around this time of year, and any leftovers we would make into mung bean popsicles. Whenever Xiao Zhuo got so hot he was sweating like a pig, he would eat one to cool off. You probably haven’t had mung bean soup before, have you? Back when I was in Stellis, it was too sweet for me, but now I miss the stuff.

Young man: I have tried making it before, but it is not as hot here as it is in Stellis. Its cooling effect was not that apparent.

Zheng Yan: Oho, sounds like you’re interested in Stellis! You’ve even tried making mung bean soup. I didn’t think people from Svart had even heard of the dish.

Young man: Is that enough to count as “interest?” Although, it is true that I would like to visit Stellis.

The man was reticent, but it was the first time he showed an emotion that Zheng Yan could not understand.

Zheng Yan: Sounds good! When you have a chance, come visit me at my home. People from Stellis are very welcoming to guests.

Young man: “Visit you at your home”… So you believe you still have a chance of leaving.

The man responded to Zheng Yan’s promise with an almost-instinctual disdain, as if he knew something that Zheng Yan didn’t. His tone wasn’t even that of a question, it was one of finality.

Zheng Yan: Why wouldn’t I? I already said, I didn’t kill anyone. And the police haven’t found any evidence – are they planning on arresting a good person?

Zheng Yan unwittingly rose his voice. Ever since he’d been detained, everyone had been acting like he would never be able to leave… Why? He hadn’t killed anyone! The police had it all wrong, and there was no way they found any evidence. Once the custody limit was up, he would be free to go. Xiao Zhuo was still waiting for his dad. Zheng Yan was certain he’d be able to go home, of course he’d be able to, he had to.

Young man: You, a good person? Perhaps Stellis and Svart have very different definitions of what it means to be a “good person.”

Zheng Yan quickly realized that getting emotional was playing right into his hands… But no matter how much he tried to control himself, the derision in the man’s words wounded him deeply. When he left Stellis, Xiao Zhuo had said the same thing – sobbing, he said that he didn’t want a bad person as his dad. Xiao Zhuo was only a child, so that undisguised loathing had stabbed Zheng Yan right in the heart. He couldn’t help but clench his fists.

Young man: I saw your Stellis criminal record. First burglary, then armed robbery… just one crime after another. Right now your child is only seven years old, but the sum of all the prison terms you have been sentenced to is longer than the time he has been alive.

Zheng Yan: I admit it, I made a lot of mistakes in the past. I lost my way. But for Xiao Zhuo’s sake, I turned over a new leaf – I’m a changed man now!

Young man: Hah…

The man snorted. His blatant ridicule provoked Zheng Yan once again, even after Zheng Yan’s effort to calm himself down.

Zheng Yan: Is something funny?!

Young man: Why of course. I would love to ask Xiao Zhuo whether he thinks someone sitting handcuffed in an interrogation room is a “changed man.” I am sure he would laugh even harder than I did.

Zheng Yan: You have the wrong guy! I didn’t kill anyone, the cops made a mistake!

That had provoked Zheng Yan. His handcuffs made a harsh sound as metal scraped metal, a reminder of how dire and helpless his current situation was.

Young man: The police would not arrest someone without a good reason. Only you and the deceased were in the office when the crime occurred, and you do not even have a proper alibi. Do you really think you can escape this?

The man’s index finger tapped the table sporadically. In contrast with Zheng Yan’s agitation, he seemed certain of his victory.

Young man: You are only this relaxed because you believe the crime occurred in a locked room. As long as the police are unable to determine how you committed the crime, you will be released once your custody limit is up. But were your efforts really that flawless? To be honest with you, your custody limit is going to be extended again. This means that the police will have more time to investigate.

Zheng Yan: You guys—!

On the verge of being consumed by rage, Zheng Yan was no longer rational enough to discern the veracity of that statement. The young man paused, suppressing his annoyance at having to waste time talking to Zheng Yan, then put on a charitable expression.

Young man: There is a difference between choosing to turn yourself in and having to confess. I am sure you understand this better than I do, considering all the experience you have.

Because he wasn’t a police officer, the young man spoke with no reservation. Each word was filled with contempt for someone with a criminal record.

Zheng Yan: How can I confess to something I haven’t done!

Young man: Stop with the useless defiance. Have you thought about how your son would feel? Maybe when you left Stellis for a fresh start, he still had a sliver of hope for you. But if he knew how much of a coward you were, how you were trying to escape the consequences of your actions, I bet he would wish he never had someone like you as his father. You see, all you fathers are like this. You claim that you have your children’s best interests at heart, but in reality you are nothing but selfish!

Zheng Yan: That’s not true!

Zheng Yan pounded the table, but nothing could stop the man’s scathing words. The young man was still speaking, but Zheng Yan could no longer hear it. Once again, he recalled Xiao Zhuo’s sobbing face.

“I don’t want a bad person like you as my dad!”

“He would wish he never had someone like you as his father.”

The two voices wove together until they seemed to come from one person, and Zheng Yan couldn’t take it any longer.

Zheng Yan: Shut up! You’re lying! There’s no way… Xiao Zhuo is my son, there’s no way he wouldn’t want his dad!

Young man: Who would acknowledge a father who brings nothing but shame?

The man’s voice seemed to get sharper and sharper. Zheng Yan wished he could cover his ears but was unable to. With tears and snot streaming down his face, he knew he looked a complete mess already, but he just wanted the man to shut up.

Zheng Yan: Shut up! Shut up!

Young man: There you go again, trying to run away. How utterly humiliating it is for a son to have a father like you!

Would confessing to the crime shut that man up? He just had to confess, and that man would shut up. Then he would confess – to the murder or to whatever other crimes, he would confess to them all.

Zheng Yan: I… I did it. I confess.

Young man: Now if only you had done that earlier.

Completely numb, Zheng Yan didn’t even know what he was saying. He mechanically pressed his thumbprint to the document with his confession, signing it. Then, as if possessed, he looked again toward the young man.

Young man: *sigh*

The man hadn’t left yet. Of course the victor would want to stay behind to examine his spoils.

Sensing Zheng Yan’s gaze, the man looked back unflinchingly.

[11:11] [screen blacks out]

Zheng Yan vaguely recalled a nature documentary he had once watched with Xiao Zhuo back in Stellis. The eyes of a cheetah were visible from where it was silently hiding. It wasn’t that it had no goal, but rather that it had already determined its plan.

[11:19] Themis Law Firm

The sun was still high in the sky, but Zheng Yan’s narrative was so expressive that I felt like I was really in that dark, damp interrogation room.

Kiki: Do you think this Zheng Yan is telling the truth?

Kiki clearly felt the same way I did, as she subconsciously rubbed her arms and shuddered.

Kiki: Our current justice system is so refined that I don’t believe a confession could be induced or coerced… but his story is just so horribly realistic. It’s hard not to believe him.

MC: Right. Even if he were coerced to confess during the interrogation… There’s still a lengthy trial afterwards, where Zheng Yan would have plenty of opportunities to retract his confession. If there were no evidence whatsoever, how could he get such a long sentence based only on some botched false charges? But still, he doesn’t seem like one of those suspects who puts on act in order to be exonerated…

As a lawyer, we had seen countless suspects who kept up the crocodile tears until they were faced with ironclad evidence, then finally confessed.  As a result, it was critical for us to learn how to distinguish those who were putting on a show from those who were sincere. But his words had even stirred experienced professionals like us, let alone the vast majority of the public in the comments. Immediately, the comments toward the person who forced the confession became vicious and hateful, the words they used downright vitriolic. 

MC: Pain and despair aren’t difficult for a criminal to feign, but fabricating other characters in a story is much harder. You can practically feel the pressure from the psychology consultant that he described. If he hadn’t personally met the man, then considering his rash personality, it would be very hard for him to describe him so vividly.

Kiki: Vivid? I didn’t really feel that way, I just thought that person sounded scary. Maybe it’s because you’re with Dr. Richter, who’s also a psychologist. You’ve seen so much of his work that the story affected you more.

Kiki was just making an offhand remark, but it had given an outlet to the discomfort I was feeling. It was impossible to ignore the connection after the mentions of Svart, psychology consults, and those comments about his father. And yet I was unable to associate my image of Vyn with that person who trampled all over someone’s mental defenses. There was no way that the Vyn I knew could be an immoral person who stereotyped others and lodged personal attacks.

MC: Maybe you’re right…

Zheng Yan was still tearfully describing what he experienced in prison and how he returned to Stellis to find both his wife and son had passed away. I could faintly hear police sirens in the background. It seemed that the police had arrived at the scene, and the situation was changing rapidly. Zheng Yan, however, was hopelessly consumed by his own fury.

Zheng Yan: At first when I got out of prison, I just wanted to forget about everything that had happened and be together with my family. But I no longer had a family. At first I just wanted to take my own life and end it all, but I never thought that… I’d come across news of that psychology consultant. I never thought that he would actually come to Stellis, and even become a famous professor at Stellis University.

As Zheng Yan recounted his enemy’s personal information, it wasn’t clear whether he could predict the waves that those details would make.

Zheng Yan: The person who harmed me is out there living a great life, and here I am, an innocent man made into a criminal! How is the world so unfair!

Each sentence crashed into me like a tidal wave. Dimly, I guessed what he was going to say next, but I felt I could no longer think.

Zheng Yan: I know that if I say his name on livestream, it might be considered slander. But I’m willing to take responsibility for everything that I say. I’ll pay the price, no matter what it is. It’s not like I have anything left to lose!

Zheng Yan paused before facing the camera head-on, as if making a declaration of war.

Zheng Yan: It took a lot of work to find out what that consultant is called nowadays.

If he hadn’t spoken out on this kind of platform, maybe the situation could still be salvaged. But here, like an arrow released from a bow, there was no turning back.

Zheng Yan: His name… is Vyn Richter!

With a “whoosh,” that arrow sliced through the air, piercing me right between my eyes.

[END PART ONE]

[PART TWO]

(1) Xiao (小) is a prefix to make a nickname out of the name Zhuo (卓)

(2) “Custody Limit” Big Data Lab entry (under Academia>Law): A custody limit is the legal time limit that an accused person can be detained while under investigation, prosecution, or trial. Under Svart law, the police can arrest a suspect for up to 48 hours. If the suspect isn’t formally charged within the time limit, they must be released. The time limit can be approved for extension, but cannot exceed 96 hours.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 1,000 FOLLOWERS! That's absolutely wonderful! You deserve it.

1.) T. "I see you. I know you're watching me." // 2.) 🕶 Mafia AU // 3.) Writer's choice! Go wherever the muse takes you. // 4.) 📚 Book

Thank you so much! ❤️ Hitman Eddie and mob baby Steve are rapidly taking over my brain, so here's some more of them!

Poisoned honey

Rated: M

Words: 995

Tags: Mafia AU; Hitman Eddie Munson; Mob boss Richard Harrington; Blood and violence; Obsessive behavior; stalking; flirting; sexual tension

Notes: Part 1 | Part 2

The boss is in one of his moods. 

Eddie endures the screaming with a stoic face - or as stoic as one can manage with a split lip and one eye swelling shut - and thinks to himself what a fucking joke it is. If anyone has a right to be mad, it's him. 

The intel he got on the job was all wrong. The target arrived with backup, turning what was supposed to be a quick, clean affair into a bloodbath. Eddie still finished the job, of course. But the goods he was supposed to secure got destroyed in the fight, losing the boss a ton of money. Hence the yelling. And the name-calling. And the throwing things. 

Eddie sidesteps the whisky tumbler that's hurled his way. It hits the wall, but he can feel the shards catch in his hair as it shatters into a million pieces. Jesus Christ. On days like this, he almost regrets getting into this. 

Almost. 

It's not easy, working his way into Richard Harrington’s inner circle. In the beginning, the asshole wasn't even aware Eddie existed. And even now that Eddie has his attention, he's still far from gaining his trust. 

Eddie gets it, though. You don't become a mob boss by blindly trusting anyone. 

And so Eddie has been biding his time, slowly weaseling his way into the group of Harrington's most loyal hitmen. The better part of a year passed before the boss even deemed him worthy of entering his office, but that’s okay. Every job brings him a little closer to his goal, and every time he sets foot into Harrington's villa is another occasion to catch a glimpse of the prize he's got his eyes on.

*

It's getting dark by the time he's dismissed. He should go home to lick his wounds, but the patio doors are open, and the rippling light and the scent of the hydrangea bushes lure him in. The night is warm, and with a bit of luck, his little nymph will be out by the water. 

He's in one of the lounge chairs, hair wet and tousled, body draped into a robe against the breeze. The underwater lights illuminate his features. He has a book in his lap, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. Eddie stays in his hiding spot for a long while, watching graceful fingers leaf through the pages, watching pink lips part around inaudible words, and gets lost in his favorite fantasies. 

Biting and sucking at those lips until they're plump and shiny, drawing the most beautiful pleas and moans from them. Maybe he'd leave those hands free, or maybe he'd tie them up, just to watch his little nymph struggle. Just to feel him squirm while Eddie covers that soft, tan skin in marks, leaving the traces of his ownership for everyone to behold. 

“I see you. I know you're watching me.” 

Eddie is so far gone in his own head, it takes him a moment to process that the words were directed at him. It takes even longer for him to realize who the voice belongs to. 

The boy has marked his page and is looking straight at his hiding spot, lips curled into a smile.

“Why don't you come out and introduce yourself? It would only be polite.” 

Soft hair falls into hazel eyes as the boy cocks his head. He looks so sweet, but Eddie knows that looks can be deceiving. He sees the coy glint in those eyes, sees the sharp edge to that smile. Knows that this is his last chance. He can turn away and save himself, or he can follow his little nymph's call and let himself be pulled into the depths. 

Those eyes sparkle with satisfaction as he steps out of his hiding spot. Not waiting for an invitation, Eddie sinks down into the empty deck chair beside the boy's, lighting a cigarette and taking a pull. 

“Eddie Munson,” he drawls and extends his right hand. “My pleasure.” 

The boy quirks an eyebrow before reaching out - only instead of accepting the handshake, he snatches the cigarette from Eddie’s lips. His fingers brush the cut and it burns like gasoline. 

“Steve. You know my last name, obviously.” Those perfect lips part to exhale a plume of smoke, hazel eyes assessing every inch of  Eddie’s appearance. “What happened to your face?” 

“Work accident,” Eddie shrugs. “Fell down some stairs.” 

Steve huffs a laugh, a curt and cruel thing. “Yeah, right. You think I'm stupid? I know you’re one of my father’s dogs.” 

Eddie feels his temper flare, snide reply already at the tip of his tongue. How he’s not a dog, doesn’t answer to any master. 

Except, that isn’t true, is it? 

He’d happily kill for this boy, would beg and crawl and debase himself. Has been doing exactly that, every day, for almost a year. 

Steve smiles, sweet like poisoned honey, and takes another lazy drag of the stolen cigarette. 

“You guys are all the same, huh? You think you’re so tough, so dangerous, but as soon as my dad tugs on your leash, you slink off with your tail between your legs. Pathetic.” 

Eddie is nothing if not fast. With one quick movement, he has snatched the boy's wrist and pulled the cigarette back to his own mouth. He takes a long drag, pressing his lips against the soft skin of those fingers. When he pulls away, he makes sure to graze his teeth over Steve’s knuckles. Those hazel eyes are huge, pupils deep and fuzzy, as they watch him stand. 

“You like leashes, little nymph? Good. Hold on to that thought.” 

Nothing has ever been harder than turning his back and walking away, but somehow he does it. Eddie prides himself in being good at his job, and much like his job, this is all about playing his cards right. 

He intends to win, in the end. 

He always does. 

Part 4

More celebration ficlets

[hermits-crab]

MY FAVORITE STARDEW VALLEY FICS — PART 1

NOTES: This is part 1 of what I’m sure will be a lot more lists of my favorites! Some of these fics have been included in my monthly recommendations. I’m literally always reading something if I’m not actually playing the game. But how do I tell people that I am an avid reader, just not in the traditional sense?

WILTING — devastating

[Sam/Sebastian, Angst, Mental Health Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Breaking Up & Making Up, Hopeful Ending]

Sam breaks up with Sebastian, he tells himself that this is the healthiest thing that he could do for the two of them. He tells himself that he’s okay with the new life he’s built for himself. He tells himself a million and one things and yet he can’t make himself believe his own lies.

FULL HOMO + LIGHT ME UP SERIES — lily_alphonse, @lily-alphonse

[Sam/Sebastian, Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining]

Sam and Sebastian's friendship is the most important thing in the world to them. For years they've skated this line, neither willing to ruin what they have in case the other doesn't feel the same.

LOVE FROM THE OTHER SIDE — changeishard, @changeishard

[Elliott/Penny, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Romance, AU - Gods and Goddesses, Inspired by Ancient Greek Religion & Lore]

Sam was desperate. He knew his band, Goblin Destroyer, was good, but they haven't been able to get it off the ground yet. They had quit their day jobs to focus on this, and Sam felt like it was his responsibility to make them famous. So he would make a deal. He could part with his soul. It wasn't a huge price to pay for their success. Sam deserved it. Seb and Abby deserved it, too. But the devil wasn't interested in his soul. He wanted Sam's wife. Or, an AU where Elliott is a God who takes Penny to his realm as part of Sam's bargain.

YOU REALLY GOT ME — softwisp, @realmalewife

[Sam/Sebastian, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Drug Use, Anal Sex, Voice Actor Sebastian]

Sam has started losing his mind recently. He can’t tell what exactly it is, the shift in weather.. the time of year. Even the slightest breeze sets his skin aflame. It has nothing to do with his best friend. Even if his dark eyes and plump lips swarm his thoughts and dreams. He’s been lying awake at night, in a cold sweat, unable to sleep. His days start to blur together, he’s not acting like himself. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He needs to fix it. Maybe something online can help?

KENT HELP FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU — insominia

[Kent/Female Player, Cheating, Infidelity, Unhappy Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Fluff, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn]

When Kent returns from the war, a different man from the one who went out, he doesn't expect his life to turn upside down upon meeting the valley's new resident and farmer, Reyna.

SOMETIMES, LOVE CALLS TWICE (SERIES) — raewrotethat

[Elliott/Sam/Sebastian, Smut, Threesome, Fluff, Polyamory, Daddy Kink, Love Confessions, Porn With Feelings, Idiots in love]

The three of them attempt to have sex without feelings. They are very unsuccessful.

IN YOUR EYES — Mouse_213, @the-mouse-wife

[Sam/Sebastian, Enemies to Lovers, Sex Worker Sebastian, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Dom/Sub, Kinky, Porn With Feelings]

Sebastian is a spiky, cold loner who dislikes 99% of the people he meets. With the exception of his best friend Abigail, Seb doesn’t seem to care much at all about his peers. Distracting himself from his angst, Seb throws all of his energy into his secret job as a cam model, where he can find the praise and encouragement he needs from anonymous subscribers on the internet to keep him going. But it’s getting difficult to fight the burnout from working so much, and Seb is getting tired. To make matters worse, Abigail’s been hanging out with the one person Seb hates the most- the warm, talkative, and brash Sam.

CONTRAST & COLOR — Mouse_213, @the-mouse-wife

[Sam/Sebastian, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Fluff, Smut, Angst, AU - College/University, Drug Abuse, Toxic Relationships]

Seb is a moody painting major whose only interest, besides art and hanging out with his favorite lesbian Leah, is finding new and interesting ways to escape sobriety. Sam is a cheerful photography major whose chatty demeanor has earned him many friends, through the years, and even more people who try to take advantage of his kindness. ...And they were roommates!

FIRE WALK WITH ME + OBSIDIAN AND RUBY (SERIES) — HibiscusTea9, @hibiscustea9

[Elliott/Sebastian, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Murder Mystery]

On a cold, rainy night in early spring, two lost souls accidentally touch. What happens next is something neither expected.

MORE, ENOUGH — kinkratonthestreets

[Sam/Sebastian, Domestic Fluff, Smut, Angst, Established Relationship, Weight Gain, Feedism, Belly Kink, Body Worship, Past Suicide Attempt]

Married life has been treating Sam and Sebastian well: they’re settling into the city, their careers are growing, and Sam’s made a lot of progress learning to cook real food for the two of them (as Sebastian can attest). They’ve got a good thing going. But when Sam gets back from going on tour, Sebastian’s looking exhausted and run-down, and Sam can tell he’s lost weight. What if he’s getting bad again?

IF I FELL — darningdreams

[Elliott/Sebastian, Future Fic, Angst, Slice of Life, Awkward Romance, Family Fluff, Happy Ending]

Ten years ago, someone came to fix up the old farm outside Pelican Town. She ran around handing out presents, attending festivals, and flirting with whomever seemed interested… which was most decidedly not Sebastian. He had Sam, after all, and the perfect pairing of sun and moon moved to Zuzu City not long after the farmer married the eccentric writer who lived on the beach. Now, Sebastian is making ends meet working at a coffee shop near the university district, thoroughly jaded by life and love. He only goes home for holidays when he knows Maru and his ex aren’t going to be there. The old farm sits empty again, re-abandoned after a few years. Sometimes he wonders what happened to the family that formed there as he drives back to his depressingly tiny apartment in Zuzu City. He never expected he’d actually find out, or find himself falling in love again.

NOTES, BOOKS, AND NOTESBOOKS — WingsofFae

[Harvey/Elliott, Romance, Pining, Poetry]

In which two grown-ass men fangirl for each other.

PAST REGRETS — WingsofFae

[Harvey/Elliott, Romance, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Picnics, Stars, Maru is a plot device]

Harvey is doing his best to be a professional, respectable adult. But hey, what can you do? Some men are too pretty to forget.

DOWN, BOY — beastinabasket, @duncanlesbianism

[Elliott/Female Reader, Smut, Light BDSM, Femdom, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Praise Kink, Submissive Top Elliott]

Whenever Elliott's day had been particularly hard, he unknowingly turned into a sad puppy.

LOUD AND PROUD IN YOUR DIRECTION — DakiWaaban

[Sam/Sebastian, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Rough Sex, Mild Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, Dacryphilia]

“Did you…did you really get hard from that?” “Yeah,” Sam says again, somehow even quieter. “Take your pants off.”

POMOGRANATE WINE AND RECYCLED FISHING LINE — Anonymous

[Elliott/Female Reader, Non-Sexual Submission, Light Bondage, Non-Sexual Kink, Soft Dom Elliott]

After they barely make it home from the mines, Elliott soft-doms the farmer into getting more than four hours of sleep.

CLOSE CALL AND CLOSER COMFORTS — SFDoll

[Sam/Female Reader, Hurt Comfort, Angst, Romance, Family Drama, Bathing/Washing, Dom/Sub Undertones, Cockwarming]

After the farmer nearly dies in the Skull Caverns, the farmer and Sam deal with the emotional and physical fallout of that night. Turns out they both need a little comfort and intimacy.

HOT COCOA — Spot_Stan

[Shane/AFAB Reader, Hurt Comfort, Angst, Romance, Injury Recovery, Frostbite, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Belly Kink, Breeding Kink]

One sleepless night, Shane goes for a walk in the heavy snow, and comes back home to nurse a frozen farmer back to health.

IT SMELLS LIKE YOU — HarmlessGhosty

[Elliott/Female Reader, Fluff, Storms, Cuddling & Snuggling, Pining, First Kiss, Power Outage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort]

When a tropical storm rolls through Pelican Town, it knocks out the power to every building, including Elliott’s cabin…though he only had one or two light switches in the first place. Problem is, the farmer had been visiting to ensure that he was set for the storm just before it hit. She’s stuck with him while it passes overnight, and she’s terrified of the dark. It’s up to Elliott to find ways to comfort her without stepping over any lines. He needs to be a gentleman. It’s what she deserves.

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