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meetmymouth · 4 years ago

Text

AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey and @burberryharold for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels!

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer, “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?” He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

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tillidontneedfantasy · 4 years ago

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A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 9th Studio Album: ‘evermore’

“My collaborators and I are proud to announce that my 9th studio album and folklore’s sister record is here. It’s called evermore,” is how Taylor Swift introduces us to this album in its foreword. One might assume a “sister record” would entail b-sides, or tracks that didn’t quite make the cut for folklore, despite Taylor’s explanation that “we just couldn’t stop writing songs.” evermore’s release came at a strange time, upon the heels of the Folklore: Long Pond Studio Sessions film on Disney+, as well as 5 Grammy nominations for folklore. The world still captivated by folklore, it’s understandable why one might not consume evermore as critically. Even as a die-hard fan, I felt some whiplash by this announcement; I am still processing folklore! Hell, I’m still processing reputation!

If this was the Taylor from two years ago, this may have been a big enough fear of hers to hold off on releasing evermore. But as she explained upon folklore’s surprise release, life is too unpredictable now, and there are zero givens or guarantees. So she followed the same path this time (although making sure it fell in line with her birthday weekend). But it’s not just the strategic timing of the release that she’s thrown out the window for now, but also her mindset whilst making records. As she explains in the evermore album foreword,

“I’ve never done this before. In the past I’ve always treated albums as one-off eras and moved onto planning the next one as soon as an album was released. There was something different with folklore. In making it, I felt less like I was departing and more like I was returning. I loved the escapism I found in these imaginary/not imaginary tales. I loved the ways you welcomed the dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found. So I just kept writing them.”

This is a revelation for Swift, to let the music lead her into artistic freedom, which is what makes evermore such a triumphant return. Truly folklore’s sister record, Taylor wrote evermore with the same creative team: Aaron Dessner of The National (Swift’s favorite band), long-time pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, and William Bowery aka Swift’s boyfriend, Joe Alwyn (as officially revealed in the Long Pond Studio Sessions). Additionally, former 1989 tour openers and close friends of Taylor, the HAIM sisters, join the crew, along with Marcus Mumford for some dreamy backup vocals.

The production is just as wistful and mesmerizing as it was on folklore, yet the storytelling on evermore is kicked up a notch, expanding on the topics and worldbuilding established in its sister record, with even sharper lyrics and an effective and elaborate use of alliteration. The best thing about Taylor is that no matter what she does, her masterful lyricism is always at the heart of her art, and somehow, she keeps getting better. Once again, I wanted to explore the rich stories she’s crafted in this woodsy universe. This is how I’ve interpreted the album, but I hope you find your own meaning in the songs as well.

1. willow It is fitting that the opening track to folklore’s sister album, where we wade further into the forest that is Taylor Swift’s imagination and storytelling, would center on the type of tree that is a symbol of hope, belonging, safety, stability, and healing. “willow,” one of the few more obviously autobiographical tracks on the album, is a hymn of gratitude for her man (as she wants you to know, yes, thirteen times), Joe Alwyn, and how the invisible string tethering them together pulled her to him in a time when everyone else was counting her out. Though not as present on many of the other songs later to come on this record, you can feel the lightness in her heart on this song as she embraces the way in which the willow has bent, wrecking her plans, throwing her into the water and leaving her happily lost and afloat in his current. The downward key modulation throughout the last two repetitions of the chorus is beautiful and very fitting for Swift vocally, but also sounds like the feeling of finding your comfort and settling into it, basking it in while you wait for the next place the wind pulls you. Best lyric: “Now this is an open/shut case / I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face / Every bait and switch was a work of art.”

2. champagne problems On the second track of the album, Taylor dives back into the fictional worldbuilding she began to explore on folklore. While on folklore high school relationships and dramatics took center-stage, evermore graduates from adolescence to young adulthood, not that it is any easier emotionally on the listener’s heart. “champagne problems” chronicles a rejected marriage proposal between two college sweethearts at their old dorm building. Taylor sings as the narrator, a reflective, self-deprecating young woman who jokes about belonging in a madhouse and dismisses all her turmoil as champagne problems. The term ‘champagne problems’ itself could have various meanings here: their trivial concerns, the fact that their “sister splashed out on the bottle” of champagne that they will not be using to celebrate as they had hoped, or perhaps it could even hint that excessive drinking is a piece of all the ways the narrator is “fucked in the head,” as they said. Although the person she is singing to is the one who got hurt in the story, the hurt in the narrator’s heart is just as palpable and relatable, because you only have yourself to blame when you self-destruct. Best lyric: “’She would’ve made such a lovely bride, / what a shame she’s fucked in the head,’ they said / but you’ll find the real thing instead / she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

3. gold rush On her YouTube live chat prior to the album’s release, Taylor explained that this song “takes place inside a single daydream where you get lost in thought for a minute and then snap out of it.” The daydream consists of a love story so pure that the town had never seen such a thing; it could only happen in a fantasy for the narrator. How could she possibly have the gall to call them out on their contrarian shit, or end up with her Eagles t-shirt hanging from their door, when they are so coveted by all, and when she cannot withstand the thought of even competing? She sings, “My mind turns your life into folklore / I can’t dare to dream about you anymore,” a sweet little connecting piece to this album’s older sister, effectively convincing herself out of the idea of jumping into the chaos of the gold rush because even inside her own imagination it’s too dangerous. Best lyric: “I don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘till the bone crush.”

4. ‘tis the damn season According to Aaron Dessner, Taylor had written the lyrics for “’tis the damn season” in the middle of the night amidst their Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions recording after a long night of chatting and drinking with their co-conspirator, Jack Antonoff. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate the guttural ache the track evokes. It is a tale of two people who always find their way back to one another in their hometown, which acts as the ever-returning fork in the road. The path taken, back to L.A. in pursuit of her dreams, is the one she chose and continues to choose, but whenever she returns home, she takes a ride down the road not taken, just to get a taste of what could have been, even if just for the weekend. What starts off as an icy homecoming always transforms into the warmest intimacy. The success of this track is aligned with the success of Taylor’s entire career; even with such specific details, it feels so deeply personal to the listener. You know the street you’d drive along late at night laughing, the spot you’d park the car, the person who stars in every what-if. You will never really know if the road not taken is as good as it seems, but that might be ok; sometimes, the fantasy is better than the reality, anyway. Best lyric: “It’s the kind of cold / fogs up windshield glass, but I felt it when I passed you / There’s an ache in you / put there by the ache in me.”

5. tolerate it Inspired by the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, “tolerate it” is an agonizing track from the perspective of a devoted wife who polishes plates and paints portraits and waits by the door for her husband with a battle hero’s welcome, who at best tolerates all her adoration. There are few things as painful as idolization being met with indifference, when you have all this love to give to someone who just leaves it there untouched. “tolerate it” captures that desperation for the approval you know will never arrive, but you sit and watch, waiting for it just in case you’re wrong, but you know you’re not. Best lyric: “I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life / drawing hearts in the byline”

6. no body, no crime feat. HAIM “no body, no crime,” the one evermore song solo-written by Taylor, has the clearest plot from beginning to end. In the same vein as the female powerhouse country classic “Goodbye Earl” by The Chicks, Taylor is out for blood to avenge her friend, Este (named for one of the HAIM sisters). The story goes as such: Este’s husband kills her for calling him out on his infidelity, and then Taylor kills the husband and frames his mistress. The HAIM girls, who are long-time friends of Taylor’s and former touring mates, lend their vocals to reinforce the accusation on the husband and to provide Taylor’s alibi. “no body, no crime” is so far the closest we’ve gotten to a return to “country Taylor,” proving that she is still the master of a killer country tune (yes, pun intended, it had to be done I’m sorry). Best lyric: “Good thing Este’s sister’s gonna swear she was with me / (she was with me, dude) / Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy”

7. happiness Written a week before the album’s release, “happiness” is one of Swift’s strongest and most reflective breakup songs. Although she writes it as though it is recent, there’s a lot of power in knowing that she’s been happily in love for four years, and that she is even better now at doing the thing that has always been best at. She is finally “above the trees,” as she sings, and is able to see it all for what it is, but her character is still in the heat of it all, trying to navigate the stages of grief when a relationship ends. We see the narrator grapple with many of those stages throughout the song. Most striking is the anger displayed in the second verse when she sings: “I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you / No, I didn’t mean that, / sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury.” That section is jarring and feels like one of the most honest moments in a Taylor song, the insanely difficult emotional balancing act when we are grieving a relationship. The devastation of loss can distort our perception, and a part of that is the difficulty of understanding how multiple seemingly opposing things can co-exist in our hearts, such as happiness because of someone and happiness after them. But when you leave it all behind and finally find your place above the trees, you can find happiness after someone and also look back and appreciate the happiness they once provided. Both of these things can be true. Best lyric: “Showed you all of my hiding spots / I was dancing when the music stopped.”

8. dorothea Taylor Swift has the uncanny ability to create such developed and well-rounded characters with such little information, which is what makes her storytelling so compelling. In “dorothea,” we learn much about the title character through the narrator’s eyes, and the relationship they once had. The lyric “skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes” alone tells an entire story in itself. “dorothea” is also the companion song to “’tis the damn season,” just from the other person’s perspective, which helps shine even more light on the story. The narrator of “dorothea” reveres her but wonders if she’s still the same soul in L.A. as she was back in their never-changing town. Whatever the answer, they’re still willing to support her no matter where she is, but she’s always welcome back in Tupelo by her hometown love’s side if she ever just wants to be herself rather than someone known for who they know. Besides, they’re the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking. And you can always return to the road not taken. Best lyric: “They all wanna be ya / but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / Well, I guess I’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show.”

9. coney island feat. The National What really started the folklore / evermore journey was Taylor’s love for The National. Taylor has cited them as one of her favorite bands for many years, and as we know, this led to her beautiful new collaborative relationship with Aaron Dessner. So it would make sense for the track written with the intention of this duet to be so well executed; you can feel the love and care Taylor put into writing this song. In her press for these sister albums, she has spoken about trying to channel frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style. But what actually happened was she just produced her own signature lyricism at its sharpest. “We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be / the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring over and over,” is a hall of famer Swift-ian lyric. “coney island” explores the confusion, hurt, and self-reflection when a passionate affair burns out fast because you did not prioritize that person. And to top it off, Swift and Berninger’s harmonies are achingly beautiful, transporting you right there in the story, on the bench, wondering, over and over. Best lyric: “Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? / Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

10. ivy Leave it to Taylor Swift to make a song about an affair sound so romantic, and so sympathetic to the narrator, that you’re rooting for adultery. “ivy” tells the tale of a woman in a lifeless marriage, likening her home with him to the tombstone that the widow in town visits each day. I like to think this is the same wife whose husband was out there building other worlds without her in “tolerate it,” because then that means she found someone who celebrates her love, who holds her pain for her, who blooms all over her; they started it, but she’s fighting for it all the way to the end, nonetheless. “ivy” showcases Swift’s gorgeous vocals and her sharp lyrics, with a melody so infectious it is bound to permanently plant its roots in your dreamland. Best lyric: “Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

11. cowboy like me With the beautifully blended backing vocals of Marcus Mumford, “cowboy like me” is an entrancing love story of two con artists who lost at their own game and got conned into forever with each other. She’d gone from swindling old men for their money and fancy cars to falling victim to the danger of dancing with someone who only has eyes full of stars, and she knows she’ll pay for it. “cowboy like me” is one of the most romantic tracks on the record, proving that life never plays out quite as we plan. Best lyric: “Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon / with your boots beneath my bed / Forever is the sweetest con.”

12. long story short One of the more pop-sounding tracks on evermore, “long story short” is pretty much a summary of the long story behind reputation (2017). The song is filled with various metaphors for her reputation crumbling around her, and then finally putting her defenses down to be with her lover, someone as “rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky.” It is a sweet ode to her boyfriend, and a gentle comfort to her past self that it will all work out. But it is also an oddly relatable example of how we shrug off our struggles and minimize them to just a “bad time,” when the time she is singing about was obviously something that deeply affected her (as will be further explored in the title track); but sometimes it actually feels good to just shrug it off as just a blip in your life, because at the end of the day, you survived, and that’s what counts- even if you’re not keeping score anymore. Best lyric: “Pushed from the precipice / clung to the nearest lips / long story short, it was the wrong guy. / Now I’m all about you.”

13. marjorie Whereas track 13 on folklore was a tribute to Swift’s paternal grandfather, evermore’s track 13 is a tribute to her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who was an opera singer in the 50s, and passed away in 2003 when Taylor was 13 years old. “marjorie” is quite possibly the most touching track Taylor has ever written thus far in her career. Grief is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a song; the genius of “marjorie” is that it is simple, yet not understated. Swift reflects on the profound lessons she learned from her grandmother, about the difficult balances of kindness and cleverness, and politeness and power. She curses herself for not cherishing the moments she had with her, for complaining rather than understanding in the moment how admirable her spirit was, for all the amber skies she’d love but will never see. The chorus, blunt and hard-hitting, reminds us that someone does not have to be living to be alive, to be all around, to be with us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now,” Taylor sings towards the end of the song, right before you hear a sample of Finlay’s opera singing in the background, a truly eye-swelling moment. It is clear that Finlay played a pivotal role in Swift’s own ambitions, as she sings, “all your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me.” Marjorie knew she was leaving them in good hands. If you haven’t yet, check out the moving lyric video for the song, where you can see photos and video clips of Marjorie, both throughout her career and in her time with Taylor. Best lyric: “Never be so polite you forget your power, / never wield such power you forget to be polite.”

14. closure On the most experimental track musically on the record, Taylor writes off her need for closure from a relationship of some sort, whether it be romantic or platonic or business, all of which can cause hurt of equal intensity. The subject of the song is trying to make nice with Taylor, and she is just not having it, as it is not coming from a genuine place, but rather to ensure that their life remains picture perfect, or to clear their guilty conscience, or to preserve their own ego. This is a deeply relatable sentiment; as valuable as forgiveness can be, sometimes the person who hurt you just doesn’t deserve it, and all you can do is forgive yourself for blocking their number or shredding their letters. Best lyric: “I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life / staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

15. evermore feat. Bon Iver To close out the standard edition of the album, Taylor joins forces once again with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, with whom she collaborated on the Grammy-nominated duet, “exile” for folklore. However, Swift leads most of the track this time, lamenting the difficult time she went through in 2016. The piano and Swift’s vocals are haunting, particularly when she describes this time in her life as “catching my death,” consumed by a pain that she feels will never end. If you’ve ever been depressed, you know what that feels like, and the dark places it leads you. Although she is singing about a time four years prior, it sounds so present, and it is heartbreaking to hear her in such a state. When Bon Iver comes in, the tempo of the song picks up, the piano riff becomes more erratic, like a winter storm hitting you in the face, and he voices all the anxieties of the cost of such a downfall. But through those anxieties, Taylor finds not a cure, but an anchor in love, and then the tempo slows back down. By the end of the song, Taylor has the foresight to understand that although it may not feel like it now, the pain she is experiencing is not permanent (a sentiment my therapist has been trying to instill in me for years). In her Apple Music interview with Zane Lowe, Taylor explained how the lyrics parallel the times we are in currently, and so it feels really special to have the album end with someone who knows how it feels to be imprisoned by your pain gently comfort us with the wisdom that “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.” I hope one day soon, as we leave 2020 far behind, we can all truly believe her. Best lyric: “I was catching my breath / barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death.”

16. right where you left me (bonus track) The first bonus track on evermore, “right where you left me,” captures a moment so earth-crushing, a piece of you is trapped in it forever. In this song specifically, the narrator finds herself stuck in the same corner of a restaurant where she was told by someone she loved that they had met someone else. “Glass shattered on the white cloth, everybody moved on,” she sings in mourning. We have all experienced those moments that we could teleport back to if we just closed our eyes; the scenery, what you wore, the smell and taste of the season, the very point in your body where it felt like your insides were collapsing. Or that one particular person, who is long-gone from your life but seeing them is like time-travelling back to that person you once were, ready to pick up where you left off. But as much as you want to stay in that moment forever, just in case it changes in your favor, the cold reality is that the world stops for no one. Best lyric: “If our love died young, I can’t bear witness / And it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me.”

17. it’s time to go (bonus track) “right where you left me” was Taylor’s cry for help to get out of restaurant, and “it’s time to go” is the answer to the call, as she sings in the first line, “when the dinner gets cold, and the chatter gets old / you ask for the tab.” This song is about gathering the strength to leave situations and relationships behind that no longer serve you. She grieves the betrayal of someone she thought to be a twin from her dreams (almost definitely referring to former friend, Karlie Kloss), acknowledges that keeping a marriage together for the sake of the kids often actually has the opposite intended effect (possibly- but not certainly- something she and her brother experienced), and recounts attempting to bargain with someone consumed by greed, only able to leave with herself (absolutely referring to the end of her fifteen-year long business relationship with Scott Borchetta, her former record-label owner). But as painful as leaving all of those situations was, Taylor has gained the wisdom to understand that walking away sometimes takes as much strength as persevering. You can’t stay at the restaurant, or at the mercy of someone else forever; you have to forge your own path, even if it’s in the opposite direction of what you envisioned for so long. And even with all her past success behind her, as folklore and evermore have proved, there is so much more ahead of her. Best lyric: “That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it’s time to go.”

In a time where we are all trapped in our homes and in our heads, the folklore/evermore experience has been the sweetest escape. If anything, the creation of these wonderful sister records has taught me that our most powerful tool in times of distress is our own imagination. Even just the ability to close my eyes while listening to one of these tracks and feel the character’s story is a gift. The way I’ve always been able to pick up Harry Potter and escape to Hogwarts when I’ve felt alone and friendless, I can listen to folklore and evermore when I feel scared or hopeless and escape into this enchanted forest Taylor has built, where I can climb above the trees and see it all for what it is. I feel so lucky to watch Taylor’s imaginative world unravel around me. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I would literally die for this bitch.

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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lovesanmotion · 4 years ago

Text

yandere!ateez as fanboys

Hongjoong:

The moment he hears one song from your latest album, it immediately swept him off his feet from the ground and made the decision to stan you. You are his favorite soloist. The moment he hears your latest comeback album, he immediately listened to all your other songs and made his research about you that night. Of course, the caffeine boosting him.

He made a lot of social media accounts just to follow you. Twitter, Instagram, Youtube, you name it. He would follow your every move and post. But is still didn’t feel the same. To Hongjoong, he felt like he was still missing a large chunk of your life and he didn’t want that. The next night, he pulled a couple of strings and ta dah! had access to your very personal information. And he felt so complete afterwards.

To you, Hongjoong was just one of your few male fans that you adore. I mean, the guy makes covers of your songs. And part of you agreed that when he made his own remix of your songs, it would sound 10000% better than the original. However, you just didn’t noticed the subliminal messages and tones he inserted in his remixes.

Seonghwa:

Seonghwa was one of those rare male fansites you have. Being in a 7 member girl group called Starlight, you are the group’s visual, main dancer, lead vocalist, center and face of the group. Once your group made its debut, fame automatically found you.

Endorsements here and there, landing yourself in various commercial films and even coming to be a guest of variety shows. Your popularity instantly swept off and in a blink of an eye, the whole of South Korea knew your name. And your name tasted delicious in HwaLight_Y/N. Seonghwa’s fansite name dedicated to you. He thought of a name that would connect him to you. Hwa meaning star, replacing the english word and thus the birth of the fansite name.

With his good looks, he too became known amongst the fans. He was known as your handsome fansite master. And since he was one of the rare male fansites you have, you would immediately recognize him from afar. Smiling at his camera and waving at him. Much to Seonghwa’s delight, he felt like there was already a deep connection between you two. And he wanted more of that.

He started coming to your unofficial group activities. Slippiing his way inside the venue just to be able to feel your presence a few feet from him. He started purchasing flight and hotel information from other “fans” and would purchase the seat closest to you or the room nearest yours.

Didn’t noticed those red beaming lights hidden inside your hotel room when you’re changing clothes or taking a shower? Click click! Or you were dead asleep tired from rehearsals when someone barged into your room? Click click! Ever noticed how your favorite red lace underwear went missing only to come back with a stain? Click click!

Yunho:

At first, he wasn’t entirely dazzled by you. Yunho was just a regular idol manager who would follow you into your every activities and schedules. He needed the money, plus, companies like him for his tall and muscular physique. The kind of person that can ward off creepy or scary fans that tried to get close to you.

You, on the other hand, is an ex member of your former girl group but found fame as a solo artist. Your debut song swept the charts and immediately won every single music show chart. Topping music chart billboards in every country. Despite all the glitz and glamor that followed you, you felt lonely and desperate for human touch.

It wasn’t supposed to be how Yunho, naked and in between your legs. How such alcohol can make you two do things that violates his contract with you. One night was all it takes for him to see a completely different side of you. And he wanted more of that.

Yunho became more protective towards you. Becoming more aggressive to anyone who dares lay a hand on you. Even going as far as sleeping in one bed with you as he thinks “its completely necessary, who know, someone might be barging into your room in the middle of the night?” You can never get away from him. Companies like him, remember? With his clean records, your company would do anything to keep him signed with you.

Yeosang:

Channel YNbyYS is a youtube channel run by Yeosang. It’s the platform wherein he posts his dance covers to your group’s songs. With a bit of his dancing elements and the original choreography of your group, the blend came out much nicer than what everyone expected. His heart leaped more at the idea of you endorsing a chicken brand. From that day forward, he became a regular of the certain chicken brand nearest to him.

Yeosang may seem like a complete innocent and harmless fanboy. But do you ever what he is behind his dance covering youtube channel? Why, he is the second most influential person in your company. The son of your own CEO. He had his very own place within the company. And he uses it to the extent of getting closer to you.

The gifts that came into your company? Those are ALL Yeosang’s gifts for you. From the dresses to the shoes. He shamelessly threw away other gifts’ that were for you because according to him “he is the only relevant and special person that can offer you gifts”. Anything else is directly to the bin.

And you wonder how your “fans” know your taste in fashion.

Mingi:

Mingi, before being blacklisted by your company, was just a regular fanboy of your group. You were the group’s main rapper and the lyrics to your bars spoke volumes to him. He was just casually listening to your verses and mixtapes until one day, he realized that he wanted to be more than just your fanboy.

It started slowly when he would attend your group’s fansigns and even follow you towards the airport. But the bodyguards prevented him from coming anymore closer to you. And so he did the unthinkable. Knocking down a bodyguard that was shielding you and enveloping you in his arms. His heartbeat raced and he felt a second heartbeat between his pants. With you in his arms, he only realized how petite yet handful you are. Hands running all over your body, burying his nose in your hair inhaling that soft and sweet strawberry shampoo that you use.

Despite being blacklisted, he never cared about going public and meeting you at your group or individual activities. Instead, he resorted to barging into your dorm. Whether you’re home or not.

San:

You are your group’s maknae and visual. Dubbed as Korea’s IT Girl, your face can be found anywhere in Seoul. From commercial films to leading Korean dramas, releasing your own solo album and attending fashion weeks, you are always the talk of the town. Whenever your name comes up, its always met with praises. Of course, the people loves you! You are a crowd and fan favorite.

And you had managed to capture the eyes and heart of San. Calling himself as your number 1 fan. He was never absent in any of your activities. Getting front row seats in your concerts, being present at your variety shows and even buying products that you endorse - soju, cosmetics, literally anything.

To your fans, he is the biggest fanboy you ever had. And it was quite entertaining to watch him profess his love to you. You even chuckled a few of his pick up lines that he threw at you during your fansigns. When asked if you had anything memorable that a fan ever did to you, the answer would always be San.

Behind closed doors, San kept a dirty secret. Remember how he always gets front row seats to your concerts? He hid a camera in his clothes to film your upskirt. Beating his meat every night to his own collection of your tight and revealing clothing. Remember how you would endorse anything? He’d buy it and imagine how ripping it off your body feels like. His greatest possession? Your black lingerie. Too bad, you’re never getting it back.

Wooyoung:

ForYN is a website account run by Wooyoung. He regularly updates his content - from posting your pictures that are uploaded today, to your daily activities, the products you use and a little sub website from his channel wherein he writes poems and graphical fanfiction of himself with you. But of course no one would ever read between the lines. The way how Wooyoung would write would be so poetical and endearing that it? doesn’t? have? any? hidden? meaning?

He only came once to your fansign and gave you a pink teddybear. It wasn’t the best gift you owned but you liked it somehow. There was something about the teddybear that you didn’t know why you’re into it. Its just a plain gift but everytime you look at it, its as if you’re drawn to it.

Maybe becuase you didn’t noticed how it has camera eyes?

Wooyoung’s love for you deepened when he caught you humping on the pink teddybear. Cum splattering all over its face. It was just one gift, but it was everything to you.

And Wooyoung’s working on the next entry for his fanfiction.

Jongho:

For today, you were having your own vlive. Doing what you called a YN mukbang. As the convenient food store you bought was placed on the table, you began to greet yours fans, asking them how they are feeling before digging in your food. Among the hundreds and thousands of viewers, Jongho was one of them.

He was engrossed in two things: one, how adorable and beautiful you look despite just eating. Second, the rude comments that were popping up in your live video. Rude remarks of body shaming were what caught his attention. He took his time digging deeper into someone else’s username and IP address. Once he got a hold of their information, he would report those comments and head out. In his disguise while hunting the people who made disguisting remarks at you. No one should ever make such remarks to a goddess.

#ateez #Ateez hongjoong #ateez mingi #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #ateez seonghwa #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #ateez jongho #ateez yandere

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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What are your thoughts on Jekyll/Hyde and his archetype of the human periodically changing into a monster ?

Jekyll & Hyde was the 2nd horror story I read following Frankenstein, I got it off the same library and it always stuck very strongly with me even before I got into horror in general. I even dressed up as Jekyll/Hyde as a kid for a school fair by shredding a lab coat on one side and asking my sister to make-up claw gashes on my exposed arm and paint half of my face, although in hindsight I think I ended up looking more like Doctor Two-Face than Jekyll/Hyde, but I was 12 and didn't have any Victorian clothing to use so I had to make do. The first film project I tried doing at film school was intended to be a modern take on Jekyll & Hyde, and I didn't get much farther than a couple of discarded scripts

Much like Frankenstein, Mr Hyde as a character and a story is something that's kind of baked into everything I do artistically. And it's not just me, as even in pop culture itself, none of us can escape Mr Hyde. I would go so far as to argue Mr Hyde may be the single most significant character created by victorian fiction, if only by the sheer impact and legacy the character's had.

(Fan-art by guilhermefranco)

Part of what makes Mr Hyde such a powerful and lasting icon of pop culture is that the very premise of the book invites a personal reading that's gonna vary from person to person. Because everyone's familiar with the basic twist of the story, that it's a conflict of duality, of the good and evil sides, but everyone has a more personal idea of what those entail. Some people make the story more about class. A lot of readings laser-focus on sex and lust as the driving force, and there's also a lot of readings of Mr Hyde that tackle it to explore a more gendered perspective, and so forth.

I don't particularly take much notice of the Jekyll & Hyde adaptations partially because the novel's premise and themes have become baked so throughly into pop culture and explored in so many different and interesting ways, that I'm not particularly starving for good Jekyll & Hyde adaptations the way I am for Dracula and Frankenstein. The Fredric March film in particular is one that orbits my head less because of the film itself (although I do recommend it), but because of one specific scene, and that's when Jekyll first transforms into Hyde on screen.

Out of all the things they could have shown him doing right that second, they instead took the time to show him enjoying the rain.

Just Hyde taking off his hat and letting it all cascade on his face with this sheer enthusiasm like he's never been to the rain before, never enjoyed it before, and now that he's free from being Jekyll, he gets to enjoy life like he never has before. It's such an oddly humanizing moment to put amidst a horror movie, in the scene where you're ostensibly introducing the monster to the audience, and it makes such a stark contrast to the rest of the film where Hyde is completely irredeemable, but I think it's that contrast that makes the film's take on Hyde work so well even with it's diverging from the source material, even if I don't particularly like in general interpretations of Hyde that are focused on a sexual aspect.

Because one, it understands that Jekyll was fundamentally a self-serving coward and not a paragon of goodness, and two, it also understands one of the things that makes Hyde scary: He wants what all of us want, to live and be happy. He's happy when he leaves the lab and dances around in the rain like a giddy child, he's happy when he goes to places Jekyll couldn't dream of showing up, he's happy as a showgirl-abusing sexual predator. Hyde is all wants, all the time, and there's not that much difference between his wants, his domineering possessiveness, and the likes exhibited by Muriel's father and Jekyll's own within the very same film, which also works to emphasize one of the other ideas of the original story, that Edward Hyde doesn't come from nowhere. That no monster is closer to humanity than Mr Hyde, because he is us. He is the thing that Jekyll refused to take responsability for until it was too late.

(Art by LorenzoMastroianni)

While many of the ideas that defined Mr Hyde had already been explored in pop culture beforehand, Hyde popularized and redefined many of them in particular by modernizing the idea. He was the werewolf, the doppelganger, The Player On The Other Side, except he came from within. He was not transformed by circumstance, he made himself that way, and the elixir merely brought out something already inside his soul. To acknowledge that he's there is to acknowledge that he is you, and to not do that is to either lose to him, or perish. Hyde was there to address both the rot settling in Victorian society as well as grappling concerns over Darwinian heritage, of the realization that man has always had the beast inside of him (it's no accident that Hyde's main method of murder is by clubbing people to death with his cane like a caveman).

I've already argued on my post about Tarzan that the Wild Man archetype, beginning with Enkidu of The Epic of Gilgamesh, is the in-between man and beast, between superhero and monster, and that Mr Hyde is an essential component of the superhero's trajectory, as the creature split in between. That stories about dual personalities, doppelgangers, the duality of the soul, the hero with a day job and an after dark career, you can pinpoint Hyde as a turning point in how all of these solidified gradually in pop culture. And I've argued otherwise that The Punisher, for all that his image and narrative points otherwise, is ultimately just as much of a superhero as the rest of them, even if no one wants to admit it, drawing a parallel between The Punisher and Mr Hyde. And he's far from the only modern character that can invite this kind of parallel.

The idea of a regular person periodically or permanently transforming into, or revealing itself to be, something extraordinary and fantastic and scary, grappling with the divide it causes in their soul, and questions whether it's a new development or merely the truest parts of themselves coming to light at last, and the effects this transformation has for good and bad alike. The idea of a potent, dangerous, unpredictable enemy who ultimately is you, or at least a facet of you and what you can do. That these are bound to destroy each other if not reconciled with or overcome.

You know what are my thoughts on the archetype of "human periodically changing into a monster" are? Look around you and you're gonna see the myriad ways The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's themes have manifested in the century and a half since the story's release. Why it shouldn't be any surprise whatsoever that Mr Hyde has become such an integral part of pop culture, in it's heroes and monsters alike. Why we can never escape Mr Hyde, just as Jekyll never could.

It is Nixon himself who represents that dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character that almost every country in the world has learned to fear and despise. Our Barbie-doll president, with his Barbie-doll wife and his boxful of Barbie-doll children is also America's answer to the monstrous Mr. Hyde.

He speaks for the Werewolf in us; the bully, the predatory shyster who turns into something unspeakable, full of claws and bleeding string-warts on nights when the moon comes too close… - Hunter S. Thompson

There is a scene in the movie Pulp Fiction that explains almost every terrible thing happening in the news today. And it's not the scene where Ving Rhames shoots that guy's dick off. It's the part where the hit man played by John Travolta is talking about how somebody vandalized his car, and says this:

"Boy, I wish I could've caught him doing it. I'd have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It'd been worth him doing it, just so I could've caught him doing it."

That last sentence is something everyone should understand about mankind. After all, the statement is completely illogical -- revenge is supposed to be about righting a wrong. But he wants to be wronged, specifically so he'll have an excuse to get revenge. We all do.

Why else would we love a good revenge movie? We sit in a theater and watch Liam Neeson's daughter get kidnapped. We're not sad about it, because we know he's a badass and he finally has permission to be awesome. Not a single person in that theater was rooting for it to all be an innocent misunderstanding. We wanted Liam to be wronged, because we wanted to see him kick ass. It's why so many people walk around with vigilante fantasies in their heads.

Long, long ago, the people in charge figured out that the easiest and most reliable way to bind a society together was by controlling and channeling our hate addiction. That's the reason why seeing hurricane wreckage on the news makes us mumble "That's sad" and maybe donate a few bucks to the Red Cross hurricane fund, while 9/11 sends us into a decade-long trillion-dollar rage that leaves the Middle East in flames.

The former was caused by wind; the latter was caused by monsters. The former makes us kind of bummed out; the latter gets us high.

It's easy to blame the news media for pumping us full of stories of mass shootings and kidnapped children, but that's stopping one step short of the answer: The media just gives us what we want. And what we want is to think we're beset on all sides by monsters.

The really popular stories will always feature monsters that are as different from us as possible. Think about Star Wars -- what real shithead has ever referred to himself as being on "the dark side"? In Harry Potter and countless fantasy universes, you have wizards working in "black magic" and the "dark arts." Can you imagine a scientist developing some technology for chemical weapons or invasive advertising openly thinking of what he does as "dark science"? Can you imagine a real world leader naming his headquarters "The Death Star" or "Mount Doom"?

Of course not. But we need to believe that evil people know they're evil, or else that would open the door to the fact that we might be evil without knowing it. I mean, sure, maybe we've bought chocolate that was made using child slaves or driven cars that poisoned the air, but we didn't do it to be evil -- we were simply doing whatever we felt like and ignoring the consequences. Not like Hitler and the bankers who ruined the economy and those people who burned the kittens -- they wake up every day intentionally dreaming up new evils to create. It's not like Hitler actually thought he was saving the world.

So no matter how many times you vote to cut food stamps and then use the money to buy a boat, you could still be way worse. You could, after all, be one of those murdering / lazy / ignorant / greedy / oppressive monsters that you know the world is full of, and that only your awesome moral code prevents you from turning into at any moment. And those monsters are out there.

They have to be. Because otherwise, we're the monsters - 5 Reasons Humanity Desperately Wants Monsters To Be Real, by Jason Pargin

(Two-Face sequence comes from the end of Batman Annual #14: Eye of the Beholder)

For good or bad, Hyde has become omnipresent. He's a part of our superheroes, he's a part of our supervillains, he's in our monsters. He lives and prattles in our ears, sometimes we need him to survive, and sometimes we become Hyde even when we don't need to, because our survival instincts or base cruelties or desperation brings out the worst in us. Sometimes we can beat him, and sometimes he's not that bad. Sometimes we do need to appease him and listen to what he says, about us and the world around us. And sometimes we need to do so specifically to prove him wrong and beat him again.

But he never, ever goes away, as he so accurately declares in the musical

Do you really think That I would ever let you go...

Do you think I'd ever set you free?

If you do, I'm sad to say It simply isn't so

You will never get away FROM MEEEEEE

(Art by Akreon on Artstation)

#tw: injury #tw: blood #tw: disfigurement #replies tag #dr jekyll and mr hyde #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #robert louis stevenson #two-face #batman #monster tag #universal monsters #horror tag

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hopelesshawks · 3 years ago

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Ash and Dust Part 8- Domesticity

18+ Dabi x fem!reader

Summary: You first meet Dabi on the worst night of your life after unwittingly walking into the very bar the League of Villains made infamous. That should probably be the end of the story. You stumble on the remnants of one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the history of Japan, get viciously murdered or call the cops and get them arrested, the end. Except that’s not the end of the story. It’s only the beginning.

Masterlist Ko-Fi (help Lulu <;3)

You’re so unbelievably nervous as you walk down the street towards the coffee shop you’d agreed to meet Shouto at. You wish you could blame your nerves entirely on the prospect of meeting the former number one hero’s son and your future employer, assuming this meeting goes well, but what really has your anxiety in full gear is the memory of Dabi’s face when he declared you’d be helping him with whatever scheme he’s planning. It’s the closest you’ve ever seen him get to the manic energy he had when he revealed his true identity to his father and the rest of the world. You were never Endeavor’s biggest fan but everything you’ve seen of Todoroki Shoto has made him seem like a genuinely good person. The idea of him getting caught in the crossfire of whatever Dabi is planning is unsettling to say the least, but this is the best job opportunity you’ve ever been offered and you refuse to let Dabi take it away from you. So in spite of the anxiety souring your stomach you continue on your journey until you finally spot the cafe.

You take a deep breath in as you step inside, the smell of coffee washing over you. You’ve never tried this particular place but you can understand why Shouto chose it. It’s a bit of a hole in the wall and surprisingly cozy inside. You had half expected something bougie and upscale, the kind of place where you’d be dropping half your apartment’s rent on one cup of coffee. It does wonders to soothe your nerves knowing that Shouto’s tastes can include the simpler things in life. The man in question is sitting at a table towards the back, staring out the window as he cradles a cup of something in his hands. You decide to go ahead and grab something for yourself before joining him, only heading over once you’ve got your own drink clutched in hand.

“Uh hello?” you ask cautiously, drawing the pro hero’s heterochromatic gaze to you.

“Hello. Can I help you?” he asks without hesitation, his tone just as dry as all the times you’ve heard it in interviews.

“I’m (y/l/n)? The, uh, artist,” you introduce yourself haltingly.

His eyes widen in recognition.

“Ah of course! Have a seat, it’s nice to meet you. Midoriya spoke very highly of your work.”

You notice that there’s a definitive inflection to his voice even if it remains relatively monotone. Still, as you take your seat across from him, setting down the file full of your work on the table, it’s hard to reconcile that the composed man in front of you is closely related to the menace you’ve been housing in your apartment.

“So what should I call you? Is your hero name Shouto alright? Or would you prefer I call you Todoroki?”

“Todoroki is fine.”

“Ok Todoroki, thank you so much for meeting with me,” you begin, flipping open the file, “I’ve brought photos of some of my other works for you to look at to decide if you want to continue with my artwork for your merch line. I have experience with digital art and can show you some of my work there as well and you can decide if you want the merch to be based off of scans of my physical artwork, my digital artwork, or some combination thereof and-”

“You don’t have to sell yourself to me (y/l/n), I’ve already decided to hire you,” Todoroki cuts you off.

You look up from the file in front of you with a shocked look on your face to find him smiling softly.

“For real?”

“Yes. I enjoyed your piece for Midoriya very much and have since seen some of the commissions you did for others. I simply wanted to get to know you a bit before we begin working together and establish some logistics.”

Everything from that point on feels like a dream. You agree to sketch out some ideas and send them his way. You both decide that once he approves a few designs you’ll paint them and then use a special scanner specifically designed for art to convert them into a digital format. A scanner, you might add, that Todoroki is paying for, in addition to a very generous fee he’ll be paying you for services rendered, half up front and the other half after the work is finished. Even just the half you’re getting up front is plenty to mean your savings are safe and rent shouldn’t be an issue for a little bit. By the time you get back to your apartment Todoroki has already tweeted out about you working for him and it’s only drawing more attention to your twitter account. At this rate you’ll probably have to temporarily close commissions to give you time to handle all of the requests! You’re practically beaming as you walk through your door, eyes fixated on your phone screen as you respond to as many requests as possible before explaining to your new following that you’ll resume taking commissions after your work with Pro Hero Shouto is done.

You’re so caught up in the excitement that for a moment you completely forget that there’s usually another person in your apartment with you now. As the realization dawns on you that you haven’t seen Dabi yet, you curiously call out his name, wandering the small space of your apartment, but he’s nowhere to be found. It’s the first time since he’s moved in that you’ve arrived home to find him missing and part of you wonders if his line about using you to get to Shouto had been a bluff to get you to turn down the job. Perhaps, now that you were getting your life together, you were boring to him. You’re almost disappointed by the thought but you shove the feeling away. You’re not about to let Dabi ruin what has been an otherwise perfect day.

Dabi doesn’t show back up until that evening while you’re ordering takeout for dinner, a treat for yourself now that you’re sure you can afford it. You’re just about to tell the person on the other end of the line that that’s it for your order when your phone is suddenly being yanked from your grip. You spin around in surprise to find Dabi smirking at you as he gives his order before hanging up the phone. You’re about to grab it back when it abruptly erupts into blue flame, drawing a horrified noise of protest from your lips as you stare at Dabi in disbelief. Before you can gather your thoughts enough to respond though he’s suddenly dropping something into your lap. “Your old phone was shit, take this one,” he smirks before taking a seat at your kitchen table and kicking his feet up into one of the other chairs. You blink down at the newest model of your old phone in shock, picking it up and turning it over in your hands a few times as if to confirm that it’s real. “You bought me a new phone?” you ask in disbelief. “I didn’t buy shit,” Dabi scoffs. You roll your eyes before amending your sentence.

“You stole me a new phone? I didn’t know you cared so much about me,” you tease.

“Relax Doll, I just need to be able to reach you as I put my plan together,” he chuckles.

“Mhmm, sure whatever you need to tell yourself. But you better hope there’s no issues with our takeout order considering you torched the phone they know to reach me at.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out. How’d your interview with my dearest little brother go?”

You practically light up as you explain how he’d hired you on the spot, the large deposit that’ll be arriving in your bank account any minute, and the game plan for how sketching will go. Dabi genuinely listens and while you can tell by the way the gears turn in his head that it’s because he needs to understand your work relationship with Todoroki to determine how to exploit it, it also feels nice to have someone you can tell all about your exciting day. When the food arrives you move the conversation to asking about what he’d been up to and are pleased to find he’s willing to share. Most of the information goes over your head and what he does reveal is vague enough to show you he still doesn’t trust you won’t rat him out but there’s still something fundamentally nice about it all.

When was the last time you had someone to just… talk about your day with?

Your ex never listened to you and your friends had stubborn judgmental streaks that often made telling them about your daily pursuits exhausting and demoralizing. So if you ignored the fact Dabi’s talking about his plan to torture and murder his father, it felt like a normal conversation between friendly roommates. You hadn’t realized you’d been craving something so simple until now that you finally have it and when the two of you retire to your room, still too stubborn to give up sleeping in the bed, it’s hard to ignore how comfortable it all feels.

And so it continues.

Every morning you wake up, make breakfast, and then get to work sketching merch designs or working on commissions. Dabi usually wakes up an hour or two later and watches you work as he eats whatever was leftover from your breakfast before heading out for the day. You almost always end up eating dinner together, trading barbs or giving updates on each other’s days, only to end the night sharing the same bed. Every night you remind yourself that you’re just another pawn in Dabi’s game and every night you can’t help but covet the domesticity of your new routine anyway.

“Don’t tell me you’re slacking off now, need ya to stay in my baby brother’s good graces,” Dabi smirks one day as he arrives home to find you camped out on the couch with the tv on.

“Relax, I’ve got the night off. Finished up the last of my designs for his merch line and I’m just awaiting approval before I can start painting,” you explain, flicking through channels aimlessly.

As you stumble upon a news channel you notice a photo of Endeavor displayed prominently next to the words breaking news and curiosity has you hesitating to go to the next channel.

“This just in. Todoroki Enji, better known as the retired hero Endeavor, was found dead in his home this morning of apparent complications from a previous injury. Not much is known yet pending the coroner’s report, but authorities say they have no reason to suspect foul play,” the reporter on screen explains.

“Guess karma did your job for you, huh?” you joke but the man standing behind you says nothing.

“Dabi?” you ask, turning around only to find no one there.

The only response you get is the door slamming and a faint burning smell.

A/N: Ahhhh this fic has been so much exposition but FINALLY we’re starting to get into the meat of this. I know this isn’t my most popular series and I’m slow as fuck to update it but for those of you who are sticking with it, thank you so much 🥺❤️ I appreciate y’all to the moon and back

Taglist: @thechroniclesofawriter @simpsfortodoroki @ahtsuwu @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @tina-98 @vibesdontlie @clubfairy @oddball215

#hopelessad #dabi x y/n #dabi x fem!reader #bnha dabi #dabi #touya x y/n #touya x fem!reader #todoroki touya #bnha touya

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hellyeahheroes · 4 years ago

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Robin(2021) #1 Review

Opening this comic with an assessment of a character that I have no choice but to agree with is a cheap way to score points with me.

Anyways, we caught heat for being unfair to this story since it was announced because all of us wanted it to be a Cass story since forever. And it became yet another thing Damian absorbs. I mostly ignored it because I’ve always been open about my disdain for the character and his fandom for nearly a decade. I never liked Damian because put these characteristics on a non-white passing character, they’d be dead inside of year. Then again I hate almost all of Grant Morrison monstrosities.

Regardless, new story who dis is in full effect here. We open this bad boy up with Damian gone missing and the Batfamily searching for him. Nightwing tried asking Damian’s old Teen Titans team and they obviously don’t know and probably hope Damian is dead. Tim checked Arkham Ruins(???) and Damian wasn’t there. I honestly don’t think Tim was trying to find Damian. Steph and Cass checked Damian’s farm and Steph concluded Damian has been there at least because while Damian may be a little shit, he loves his dog and pet bat dragon. Barbara checked facial recognition pings and his transactions and dude is an IRS nightmare.

Damian is missing. Bruce is worried that maybe making a violent murderous preteen Robin raised in a cabal of killers to be chief murderer was a bad idea and is worried. Barbara ensures him that they will find his son and we cut to Damian fighting Snake guy in some musty ass fight put somewhere. Because of course it’s a musty ass fight pit because while the story is well drawn, it never claimed to be not cliche.

Damian hands the scrub his ass and it turns out Damian is trying to earn a marker to participate in some tournament. I liked this panel.

Not because of the artist flex of changing the art style, but it establishes Damian with a relatable hobby, reading manga. And not just a Shounen as you expect him to read but a slice of life manga which kind of puts his life in perspective. Also the lesson in the manga is reflective of what happens in the comic. Damian’s mastery is reflective of how he sees Hana. Hana decides to go beyond what her masters taught her. She decides to innovate and make her art her own. And that’s indicative of another flaw of Damian: Damian leans of the prestige of his teachers. He is the student that replicates the style 1:1. He wants to inherit Batman’s mantle, but doesn’t want to shed his teachings that he is proud of. And it comes down to this idea that Damian refuses to innovate and adapt because he is hiding behind his masters.

This panel saved the story so good job.

And after a talk with dead Alfred, it’s revealed that Damian is on this journey as a way to mirror Bruce’s journey into becoming Batman. It’s his way to iron his resolve without a catalyst to find a need to. It highlights his naïveté. He thinks that he can just simply copy the steps and get the same results.

Regardless what happens next simultaneously undermines the story or the impact of it.

Okay, when you think of Martial artists in DC, you immediately think Batman, Shiva, Deathstroke, Black Canary, Bronze Tiger, Richard Dragon, and Shiva. Why I said Shiva twice? Because Shiva is the pinnacle.

So to reveal that three premier martial artists in the universe are not only not participating but they were paid off to not participate, cheated out, or were subbed in as an entry replacement, it undermines the promotion. It’s like going to a Beyonce Concert only to find out that between the words in small print Beyonce and Concert was ‘s Sister’s and now you are watching Grammy award winning Solange. Sure, it’s an unique experience but it ain’t Beyonce.

And also, there is no amount in the world that would keep Shiva away from this tournament if it’s as prestigious as it’s led to be. Let’s be real. If anything, it’s far more likely that she saw the roster of scrubs and decided to make some scratch.

There are two characters that I recognize: Connor Hawke and Rose Wilson. I am not familiar with Connor so I am not sure if he is out of place. Rose is fine but y’know, scrub. I’m sorry Rose Wilson got her ass handed to her by Cass in the previous universe. There is no universe where I take her seriously in a fighting tournament to crown greatest fighter because the ass stomp was so thorough that Cass was beating Slade’s ego by proxy.

Back to the comic, Damian interrupts the host and basically is the fighting tournament trope of overly confident disrespectful guy with too many accolades which he will proudly tell you about them. What I like about this is the nice nod to the previous manga panel. Damian is not a great fighter. There I said it. Damian’s ability hinges on the idea that he was trained by the greatest killers and Batman but the issue is that name prestige doesn’t make great fighters. Too many times, comic books overly rely on this idea of fighting being a what you know and not being a game of not getting hit and getting hits in. It does not matter if Damian is trained by the League and Batman and it’s questionable as to how much Batman taught him in the first place. Hence why we see Damian with a sword or staff to compliment his lack of range. Damian can’t read muscle twitches like a Cass or Shiva so he has a normal reactive response and comics never highlighted his ability. The most impressive thing I’ve seen Damian do is catch a Batarang which is something I’ve seen Tim do. Damian overly relies on the idea that his teachers taught him to be the best when they simply taught him to survive in a fight.

“But why does Cass get away with it?,” you ask. Cass has this broken hax that is reading muscle twitch and immediately knowing the instant of what you are going to do before you do it or decide to do. Cass doesn’t need range because to her, you are screaming your intentions. She doesn’t need to block an attack when she can just parry. She doesn’t need to step back when she can just step forward while slipping all attacks. She is an autistic savant at fighting with an absolute defense. Damian is just another badass teen in a world of badass adults.

And the humbling of Damian begins...again.

Pros:

-Damian’s new costume. I like that he is branching out and starting to own his own colors. It’s nice.

-Using a character flaw to make it a theme. I like Chekhov’s gun via teachable moment. In tournament arcs, what separates the good ones and the bad ones is the idea that the hero simply must overcome their opponents and not their own self. This is why Yuyu Hakusho is awesome.

- Great art and nice continuity. It’s nice that Damian’s past wasn’t ignored for once and they didn’t just throw his Teen Titans characterization down the tubes. Say what you want, but it was arguably Damian’s longest run in spite of his fans hating it. And contrary to what they believe, it was very much in character for him. My fear going into this that Damian would not face any fallout and lo and behold he ran away.

- it’s a good start for a Damian story. Say what you want, but it’s unique in that the little shit gets his comeuppance immediately. And not that just by losing, but by dying. Damian has killed before and readily justifies it because he never realizes the weight of taking someone’s life. He’s been killed before but those were painted in a way that he is valiant. Here, this is death caused by his own arrogance. He mocks a fighter for talking shit and gets murked while talking shit. He spouts names of his own teachers and expects people to care or be weary as if Rose Wilson and Connor aren’t there. It’s a tournament sponsored by the League of Assassins, Damian. They have been taught by the league too.

Cons:

-Look I get promotion. No promoter is going to undermine their product but the fact that this tournament reeks like ABA is killing my interest to give a shit. It’s a convenient caveat to say that, “Well, a character won this so they can have the title but the title doesn’t mean anything.” I know of regardless of whom wins this, they aren’t the best. Go ham or don’t at all.

-not enough emphasis of the importance of this arc. Why even have this tournament? What’s the prize? What’s even the point?

-While the art is nice, the action is framed poorly. I like physical action like this to be nearly choreographed in a way I can see and piece movement in my head. The two fight scenes we get are somewhat disjointed in that it’s just poses. For example, Flatline’s first kick makes no sense at all and I don’t get her follow up. Trying to picture the movement hurts my head and in an action concept like this, it’s best to frame action scenes as more than doing poses. Here is a good example:

This only emphasizes the action and gets the reader to acknowledge that this a tournament of great fighters or at least a great fighting story.

All in all, do I think this story is off to a good start? Yes. Is it going to change my opinion on Damian? Hell no. My reaction to Damian getting his ass handed to him was this.

The issue is that it never sticks. Damian can learn and be a better person but the development never sticks. It becomes a cyclical series of events because whoever writes him next will just keep writing him as this shitty entitled murder rich kid who never learns anything and gets validated somehow. It’s been over a decade and I’m tired of the same excuses of his shitty behavior. I am tired of writers validating it or excusing it.

Damian losing isn’t an outcome I care for because it’s wasted on him. Honestly I am more interested in Connor and Rose being there. I have no faith that it will stick nor does it undo the shitty idea of the character. I have never wanted to see Damian fight. It’s never been fun to read about nor has the impetus of his character emphasized the ability or style. Placing Damian in an Enter the Dragon style tournament lacks the pizzazz of Cass doing the same thing. For example, let’s try Marvel.

Let’s say someone pitches an idea of a tournament arc styled after Game of Death. Immediately you think Martial Artists non-powered. Danny Rand, Daredevil, Elektra, Shang-Chi, Pei and Colleen Wing. Okay, instead of giving those characters the honor, you give the story to Black Cat. Honestly, I’d read it because Felicia could sell me a documentary on grass and I’d buy it but the point stands, why does Damian have this Bruce Lee inspired Martial Arts story versus the actual Chinese or East Asian Martial Arts focused member of the Batfamily, Cassandra Cain?

But this has nothing to do with what could have been. It’s a fun beginning of a possibly fun arc. In that regard, it delivers but what’s the point?

Like I said, fun story.

@ubernegro

#dc #robin #damian wayne #batman and robin #batman #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #batgirl #barbara gordon #oracle #dick grayson #batfamily

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sombreboy · 5 years ago

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Daffodil dreams✾yandere!kth

| RP with 🍁anon | Header by:🍁anon ♡ | CLICK ME FOR PART TWO ✾ 18+ ✾ xtremity; 7 ✾ pairing: Murder suspect!Yandere!Taehyung x Therapist!F ✾ word count: 16.8k ✾ warnings: mental illness, mentions of murder, hand fetish, oral, forceful facefucking, dubcon themes, sadistic/manipulative/possessive!Tae, masochistic!therapist, mentions of medication for mental illness, cursing, degrading dirtytalk, rough smut, unprotected sex.

‘’Taehyung, you didn't lose control. You chose to control me instead..." And he damn well took sick pleasure from the crazed look in his eyes.

“I’m not bad.” He convinced himself of this. He wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t the person in the case files. That was somebody else inside of him.

Flashing her access card to open the door of the secured interrogation room, the doctor nods at the guard outside before stepping in. If things were to turn sour at any point, he'd step in as intervention.

Once the door closes, she takes a moment to assess her latest patient— accused of double murder, yet to be proven guilty even if circumstantial evidences were against him, Kim Taehyung. Her report on his mental state will be the determinant in his case at this rate. Moving closer towards him, she greets him by introducing herself. "Hello, Taehyung!"

Taehyung sat with his hands clasped together, eyes in his lap as someone walks in. As soon as he hears their greeting though, he slowly gazes up at her, a cautious look on his face. ‘‘Hello.’‘

Placing her tiny folder of contents and her notepad on the table, she takes the chair across from him with a formal smile. "I'll be your therapist till the case gets resolved in the court which can be anywhere between a few days to many months! We're together in this until then." She tells him in an honest voice. It would be better to ease him into the sessions and gain his trust before she could delve deeper into his mind. Deciding to keep it simple, "How are you feeling today? Did you sleep well?"

Taehyung fiddled with his fingers, avoiding eye contact, but he’s responsive enough, “I’m good.. I slept okay.” He nodded, as if confirming his own words.

"I'm glad you're feeling good. We'll see what we can do about the sleep issues you have..." She says, observing how he avoided her eyes and takes her note to record it in. But before she does, "You don't mind if I take notes, do you?" She asks to confirm. Some of her patients hated it when she paid more attention to her notebook than them. She'd switch to a taping device in that case. "Have you seen any other therapists before me, Taehyung— it's okay if I called you by your name, right?"

It took Taehyung a long moment before he responded, eyes moving back up to look at her, this time more observing, “You’re my first...” he keeps his eyes on her, an unreadable expression on his face as he nods, confirming the usage of his name.

She flashes him a genuine smile when she finds his eyes upon her. That was rather a very quick improvement in her books. Nodding her head at him, she notes it all down, from his words to his gestures— everything. So no one even suspected he might have been mentally disturbed until the incident itself. Interesting. "In that case, I'm going to make sure I'm helping you the best way I can!" She promises him with a look before going for her next question. "Tell me more about yourself, Taehyung... It can be anything?" She'd get to know him from his own point of view before making her judgement.

Taehyung looked around the room, as if in thought, leaning back in his chair as his eyes finally land on the painting hanging behind her. He stares at it for a long moment, zoning out as he’s looking at it.

She patiently waits for him to speak up, silently taking in his features. He looked rather young, just about her age or even younger. Lucious curls, sharp jaws, almond eyes framed by full lashes— he was nothing short of gorgeous. And then there was this innocence in his eyes that makes her pause. Could he have really murdered two people in cold blood? Noticing his attention elsewhere, she turns behind her to see the painting on the wall. "So... You like art? Do you paint often?" If he wouldn't talk, then she just had to ask more questions to keep him speaking.

Taehyung rocked back and forth, a very vague movement, barely noticeable unless anyone paid attention. He nodded, his eyes flickering to her before focusing on the painting once more, a short but clear response rolling off his lips, “Sometimes..”

Her eyes keenly track each of his movements, including how he seemed to not stay as still as he had when their session began. She hums at his words. Maybe she could bring some art supplies to one of their future sessions? But for now, "I'm a fan of surrealism. It feels like there's something about the unexpectedness it brings to everyday subjects... Dali is one of my favourite artists!" She comments, her eyes lighting up brightly as she speaks about something she likes. "Do you prefer someone's art works in particular?"

Taehyung kept rocking back and forth, he was slowly starting to become a little bit more responsive, taking a few seconds less to answer this time, “Van Gogh.” His lips twitched ever so slightly at the thought of his art, his gaze focusing back down at his lap.

"Van Gogh?" There's a flare of recognition in her gaze, that is more than just knowing the famous artist's name. She was well versed in his life history too— especially his mental illness that made him take his own life. Taehyung taking less time than before to respond with his name was mildly alarming. But she keeps her cool, and her smile intact. "I have a copy of his Almond Blossom in my home." She mentions as she makes more notes, "What is it about Gogh that impresses you, Taehyung?"

Taehyungs eyebrows raise vaguely when she mentions that she owns such a piece of art. His eyes now travells down to focus on the notepad in her lap. But this time he didn’t respond.

She gives him a whole minute before looking up at him, only to find his gaze focused on her lap. "Would you like to write... Or maybe sketch instead?" She tears off the page she had been writing in and passes the notepad to him with another pen. "Is there a particular painting of Van Gogh that you like so much?" She tries again hoping he'd feel motivated enough to answer her or even write it down.

He moved slowly when he grabbed the pen and notepad, putting it in his lap as he quietly scribbled something down. When he finished, he put it back on the table along with the pen, pushing it over the table towards her so she could take a look at what he had written down. “Through his pain, came beauty. His art.” Along with a smaller note, “irises," which was a painting by the artist. It was a painting of Irises that suggests cautious optimism. The bouquet of blue irises, shadowed in violet in an ocher vase against a yellow background, reveals his continuing pursuit of what he called 'the color question' and nature always offered the true revelation.

When he leaves the pad back on the table, she peeks over to see what he had written. "Irises?" She whispers under her breath. There were two paintings of Gogh's with the said flowers. One, speaking of a life without tragedies and the other, a still life painting of the flowers in a vase he used for studying colours, both of them he did in the asylum. Tracing his words about the artist himself with her eyes she asks in a softer tone, "Did you know there's two different paintings of irises?"

Taehyung nods, however not clarifying his answer. His mind seemed to drift away after the mention of the paintings, but his body seemed slightly more relaxed as he was no longer rocking himself back and forth.

She leans back on her chair and keeps talking when he doesn't respond more than a nod. "I prefer the first one, the painting with the irises he did in the garden. There is this sense of hope about it..." As if he had hoped to get better in the hospital. Taking one more look at his note, she presses an elbow to the table and props her chin upon her palm as she tries to get his attention back on her. "Does his pain inspire you, Taehyung?"

His lips part as if he’s about to speak, but he closes his mouth again, one hand moving up to brush his curls away from his eyes, that were now back on the doctor. He made eye contact, and gave her a vague nod, a quiet whisper rolling off his lips as he quoted the artist, “Art is to console those who are broken.”

She blinks, the motion of his hand breaking her transfixed gaze upon him. But soon he reels her back with his eyes, that now rested upon hers with a sense of ease. She leans a little further across the table to catch his whisper, which gives her a pause. As much as she wanted to go on track and ask more about the artist he seemed to idolise, she chooses a personal question instead. "Do you consider yourself broken then?" It comes out equally quiet, her eyes focused unblinkingly upon him.

Taehyung shrugged, then broke into a soft smile before countering her question with one of his own, “Aren’t we all broken in one way or another?”

Her eyes soften at the first sign of his smile, her own lips quirking up to mirror it. Moving back with a mellowed laughter at his question, "True, we all are! You got me there." She admits, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "So, what is your story then? Why do you think you're broken?" With her head tilted to the side, she might resemble a curious cat. There's an urge to get to know him more now that goes beyond the need for this case. But she brushes it off to analyse it later when she wasn't on the clock.

Taehyung observes her for a moment, he’s starting to feel a little more comfortable with his therapist. Her smile made him feel something, but he couldn’t quite place it as of yet. For the first time in a long time, he’s enjoyed somebody’s company. He didn’t want the session to end. “My story... isn’t very unique. I had a happy life... simple.” He presses his lips together as he nodded, confirming his own words before looking at her again, hands clasped together in his lap, “What about you?”

"Had?" She notes the past tense of his words before blinking back in surprise when he asks her about her story. "I'm... still writing my story. Everyday, as it goes. My story is about finding a purpose for your life to be happy again!" She reiterates gently, her notes laying long forgotten on her lap with her attention completely on him now and their conversation. "Everyone's story is different from each other, Taehyung. But why would you think your happy life ended? What about your life now?"

Taehyung stares at her as he takes in her words. Her purpose was for him to find happiness? That sounded crazy... it sounded almost... like she cared about him. He leaned forward, as if he's trying to get a closer look at her. "Well, I am held in custody... and will be for a while it seems. Wouldn't you feel unhappy in my situation?" Once again, he counters her questions with his own, as if it was a little game. But it was obvious that he was starting to enjoy this, becoming more responsive to her, whether it gives her clear answers or not.

"Which is 'where' I come in." She air quotes in response to his question. "Anyone would he unhappy in this situation. You'll be held here until they can find a solution to this case. Don't you want to be happy again, Taehyung?" Her tone is beseeching as she hides her surprise at how easy it was to get him to talk when his previous interrogators claimed otherwise. "I can help you with that! But you'll have to help me in return. I want you to be completely honest with me. Can you do that?"

Taehyung leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes still fixed on the woman as if he's observing her. He doesnt answer, but he nods.

Even without his verbal confirmation, she still considers it a minor victory when he agrees to be truthful. Giving him another one of her genuine smiles as if in reward, "We can take this one step at a time. And if you're uncomfortable with anything I say or ask, feel free to stop me immediately, okay?" She bends her head slightly, looking up at him through her lashes to see if he understood her before proceeding. "You're aware that you're kept in custody. But do you know why you're here?"

Taehyung's gaze travels to look down once again, a soft sigh escaping his lips. However another nod was the only response she got. He wasn't feeling very verbally responsive for this topic, knowing all words can and would be used against him, whether he was guilty or not.

When he breaks their eye contact, she withdraws back with a deep exhale. She knew she was pushing him beyond his comfort zone. But from every information she gathered from him so far, her gut feeling told her he was innocent. Even the devil was an angel before he fell though. "Taehyung," She calls his name out softly. "We're almost at the end of our session today. I have one last question for you before I leave. Do you think you deserve to be kept here for whatever the reason you're in here for?"

His gaze slowly moved to look at her hands, keeping his arms wrapped over his chest as if he's hugging himself. It takes a long minute before he shrugs. He knows he's been vague, but he wasn't sure. And he felt a little disappointed that the session was over already, he was beginning to enjoy her company. She was the first person since he was taken in to actually talk to him as a person, and not simply pinpoint him as a murderer.

Clicking her tongue quietly at his shrug, she slumps back into her chair when he gives her no clear answer once again. There was a prompt knock on the metal door, signaling the end of their session.

"You did so good, Taehyung." She tells him with a soft smile as she stands up to gather her things, including the notepad. "I'll be back tomorrow. And I'll see if I can request for an additional hour. If we work well together like today, I'll soon be able to help you find your happiness again, hm?"

He feels his chest flutter at the doctor's praise, another foreign feeling to him. As she stand up, his eyes follow her with the utmost observation of her every movement and word. His lips curl up in a small smile as he nods, "Okay." He didn't want the session to end, but he was already looking forward to tomorrow. Now, as soon as he was no longer alone with her, his expressions fade back into being a blank canvas— no expression at all.

Now more than ever, she believes he was being framed for the murders. And even if he was guilty, she'd help him get his Not Criminally Responsible verdict if it ever came to that, she decides. He definitely had underlying mental health issues for certain, she just needed more medical proof. Sending an email out to his defence attorney and the institution, she rests easy that night when they approve her request for extended sessions.

Taehyung had barely slept that night, staring at the ceiling of his isolated room as he processes everything she said. She'd asked him questions about art, and the way her knowledge surprised him made him curious about her. The way she told him that her purpose was to find his happiness, made him happy... no one's ever said that to him before, and he started to feel a small infatuation with his therapist.

He reminded himself to be cautious, however, it had only been one session after all. But his heart fluttered at the thought of seeing her again. Would her hair look different? Would she wear something pretty? All these things whirled through his mind until he managed to get a fractured amount of sleep before the guards woke him up for his next session. He slowly sauntered over, hair a curly mess, bags under his eyes.

The next day, she's back in the room before him for their new session. She had forgone her coat, favouring a simple blouse and skirt as it was summer. The door opens and she stands up with a bright smile. "Hello, Taehyung!" One look at his cuffed arms and she sends a pointed glare at the guard who takes it off with a roll of his eyes. Once the guard leaves, she takes a step towards Taehyung, almost as if to push his hair back, but drops her hands halfway and goes back to the table. "Did you sleep well last night?" She asks him, her smile simmered down as he takes his seat.

Taehyung rubs his wrists when the cuffs are removed, nodding uncomittedly at her question as he slowly strolls over to his seat, ‘’Somewhat,’’ He didn’t lie, but also didn’t want to tell her he barely slept, but the doctor's eyes were sharp, and the dark circles under his eyes were prominent even if they were half hidden underneath his bangs. He ran his hands through his hair as if to calm down the bedhead he was rocking, lifting up his grey hoodie over his curls.

Nodding at his reply, "Well, I have news for you. Our sessions are going to be two hours long from now. So hopefully we can solve this case quicker!" She says with a smile, looking up from her notes only for her lips to turn down in a frown at his red eyes and visible dark circles beneath them despite his attempt to hide it all behind his bangs. "Is there a particular reason you didn't sleep well last night?" She asks him in a crisp tone, giving no room for anymore vague answers. "If something's bothering you, you can tell me, you know?"

Taehyung felt a rush of joy, reminding him of butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the mention of longer sessions. Does that mean she wants to spend more time with him? That’s how he interpreted it, a small smile pulling on his lips. It made him more responsive, more open to answer her questions. However, it didn’t mean he couldn’t ask some back, ‘’I had a lot on my mind after we spoke,’’ He confesses, tilting his head to the side as his eyes landed on her skirt, slowly roaming up your outfit. She looked so pretty, ‘’I like your clothes.’’ He squinted, observing the small floral patterns adorning her blouse. He was curious about the brand, he did enjoy fashion.

"Oh?" She glances down at herself, giving him another smile at his compliment. "Thank you! It's getting warmer out there. Had to give up my winter clothing." Subtly noting the spark of interest in his eyes at her clothing style, she decides to dig into it later. They had something important to discuss before that. "You said you had lot in your mind last night. May I ask what?" She pulls up a fresh page on her notepad, beginning to write down everything she noticed about him today.

He smiled, arms going back to his default position across his chest, “You.” His eyes moved back to her face, observing her reaction. This could’ve been a bad idea, maybe he should’ve stayed quiet, closed down. But he had to say it. She was special, not just his therapist.

Her writing comes to a sharp halt, and she glances up at him to find him watching her already. Dropping her pen between the pages, she closes the notepad and leaves it on the table before focusing all her attention on him with an unsure smile curling on her lips. "Me? Do you mean you were thinking about the things we spoke about yesterday, Taehyung?" Getting involved with a patient at any emotional level was frowned upon. She hopes he means the latter, for both of their sakes.

Taehyung hesitates, considering whether he should answer with honesty. Will the truth scare her away? Will she stop seeing him? He didn’t want to take the chance, not until he was sure. He internally scolded himself for even telling her, but if he plays his cards right, he could deflect this quickly, continuing with the normal questions. He squints his eyes in a smile, nodding once more as he straightens his posture, ‘’Of course, that’s what I meant.’’

There's a faint sagging of her shoulders in relief despite the niggling feeling of uneasiness pricking at the back of her head. "That's great! But please don't let out conversations disturb your sleep patterns. I like seeing you in better health." She smiles, purposefully adding the last part to see if it'd change his behaviour that night. Sitting a little more relaxed in her chair, "What is it about yesterday that left you sleepless, Taehyung?" Technically, she should begin from where they left off but this could work too.

Taehyung considers her words carefully, and how she kept saying things that seemed so earnest. She would like to see him in better health. Not because a script told her so, but because she cared. He started to believe it, and he couldn’t control the way his feelings slowly grew for her. He crossed one leg over the other, leaning back as he put his hands in his pockets into a more relaxed position, eyes staring at the table as he chewed on his lower lip in a moment of thought, ‘’I thought a lot about... Art.. It was a refreshing conversation compared to all the surface level interrogations they’ve put me through so far. I felt like I was talking to an actual person, and it was... Nice.’’ This was the longest sentence he’s ever given her, even if it didn’t conclude much other than his appreciation for her knowledge.

"I'm glad our talk was thought provoking for you. And I want you to feel normal. I know interrogations here can get bitter. But I'm here to help you find and face the truth, no matter what it is!" Placing both her hands on the table, she presses on it to lean forward and let him see the honesty of her words reflected in her eyes. "We can talk about art again, if you want? Or anything else of your interest? I'm sure we can spare some time before beginning from where we left off yesterday."

Taehyung’s eyes lit up, he finally had an opportunity to know more about her, rather than talk about himself. That’s all he’s done, and he would, for her. But first, he wanted something back, something new to learn. He fiddled with his fingers before clasping them together, ‘’What’s your favourite type of flower?’’ It was an odd question to some, but to him, it mattered. He always loved flowers, and the meanings behind them.

She doesn't miss out on any reactions of his, including how his entire face lights up when she says they could talk about anything other than the case. Little sacrifices, she tells herself with a smile as she leans back in her chair only to pause at his question. "My favourite flower?" She asks again with surprise in her tone to confirm if she heard it right. As he continues to gaze at her with that little excited look of his, she gives in. "Lily of the valley. I love those little bells!"

‘‘Return to happiness.’‘ He states, eyes still fixed on her. Everything really pointed back towards the one thing you keep telling him, to find happiness. To be happy. That she wanted him to be happy. This couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? If it was, it surely was fate. ‘‘The flower is beautiful, attractive... But poisonous.’‘ He continued, as if his statement could have an underlying meaning to it. He stretches his back a little, before returning to a comfortable position, his hands delicately placed in his lap, ‘‘I like daffodils.’‘

"When something is too beautiful to behold, it always comes with a way of protecting itself, doesn't it? Like how roses have thorns, the lilies are poisonous. I only think it's fair." She shrugs, not really worried about how he'd interpret that. By now, she's made up her mind to enjoy the unexpectedness of their conversations until it lasts. "Daffodils? What do they mean?" She might have a little knowledge about art, but not so much about flowers.

Taehyung hums, nodding as he speaks, ‘’Rebirth... New beginnings...’’ He tilts his head to the side, keeping his eyes in his lap as if he’s in thought, ‘’They are the first flower to bloom when the cold, dark winter has passed, as a sign of spring.’’ He pauses to lick his lips, looking up at her with a small smile, ‘’And they smell nice.’’

She nods her head slowly, taking in the meaning of his favourite flowers a little deeper than she should. "New beginnings..." Letting the word roll around her tongue for a moment, she glances up to meet his eyes with an understanding smile. "Is that what you crave right now? A new beginning once this darkness," her gaze flickers to his case file on the table before meeting his again, "—passes, Taehyung? Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. I tend to overthink sometimes."

He felt butterflies burst in his gut when she said his first name so casually, as if they were already close. He enjoyed it, feeling a warmth simmer over him. Taehyung shrugs, ‘’I guess you could say that.’’

"Hm..." She hums, moving forward once again to lean over the table. These chairs weren't exactly comfy, she was sure to get a back pain if she were to sit in it much longer. "And how do you envision this new beginning? Is it going to be similar to the life you lived before? Or maybe you want to move away to a new place and start afresh? I'd do that if I were you, to be honest..." Letting her eyes trace his features carefully, "How different do you want your new life to be from your old?"

Her words seemed to have hit a small trigger, his eyes squinting in thought, the corner of his mouth twitching once, twice. He stared to his left, at nothing, just staring, as if he’s deep within himself for the moment, and his leg starts to bounce restlessly, ‘’It’s already different... But, I don’t know..’’

It was the first time she catches him struggling to express his thoughts that day, immediately knowing his answers would be as vague as their previous session. No, that wouldn't do. "Different because of any thing in particular?" Maybe his guilt? He was yet to answer her last question from yesterday. Seeing how his attention seemed to be elsewhere, she opens her palm on the table. "You can hold my hand if you need something to ground yourself, Taehyung!" She offers without thinking twice.

His eyebrows are drawn together in confusion at her words, until he looks down at her open palm on the table. He didn’t hear everything she said, he only caught when she called his name, and then suddenly, her hand was offered to him. What is this? She wanted him to hold her hand? Was this a test?... Did she like him? Taehyung’s fingers twitched, he slowly raised his hand as if considering to actually hold hers, but he hesitates, looking up at her, ‘‘I can...?’‘

She looks at him with her head slightly bent, urging him on silently with her eyes. "Yes, of course! I want you to hold my hand so you can ground yourself..." She states calmly, curling her fingers in a come hither motion as she smiles at him. It was clear he was lost in his head and if this would help, she was willing to do it for him. "We'll continue our conversation only when you're certain you're back here with me, okay?" Her voice is soft, as if soothing him back into reality.

He shuffles closer to sit on the edge, his large hand slowly wrapping around hers. She felt so delicate in his hand, and his heart skipped a beat. He exhaled through his nose, eyes fixed on the way his long fingers gently closed around her hand.

Carefully, she watches him place his hand upon hers before wrapping it around her dainty one, her gaze flashing up to his face to note his reaction. He seemed... content, for the lack of accurate words to explain the emotion in his eyes. She sits there in silence with his hand in hers, for how long, neither of them care. Smiling again, she softly squeezes the reassuring weight of his hand upon hers. "Feeling better, Taehyung?" She asks him once his eyes move back to rest upon her.

His eyes softened when he felt her squeeze his palm, and he wished this moment could last forever, not ready to ever let go of her. ‘’Can I look at your hand? Closer, I mean...’’

She flexes her fingers in his, knowing what she was doing wasn't exactly ethical in her practice. But he seemed like he needed someone to hold him, and all she could offer was her hand for now. Blinking back at the unexpectedness of his question, she hesitates a brief moment before nodding. "Sure you can... as long as you promise not to bite!" She jests in good nature, even if a part of her wonders why he was asking to look closer.

Taehyung smiles playfully, an eyebrow crooked up at her words. ‘’Deal,’’ he leans forward a little further, both of his hands holding hers. He treats her hands like they are fragile, delicately examining her flat palm facing him before the pads of his fingers trace the lines in her hand, his eyes focused on how soft her skin feels in his hand. To some, it might look like he’s doing some kind of palm reading, but in reality he just... really likes hands. And hers, they were an exquisite sight, and they felt even better.

She laughs faintly at his playfulness, brushing off the little voice in her head questioning her sanity in that very situation. He was only being curious, she told herself— almost like a child. Indulging him would cause no harm! Unless he really was guilty… Sighing at her own internal monologue, she wriggles her fingers again as she smiles up at him. "What are you looking for in my hand, Taehyung? Did you lose something there?"

He doesn’t look up at her, eyes still observing as he grabs her fingers between his index finger and thumb, bending it delicately back and forth, as if he’s fascinated with the way her flesh moves and bends beneath the skin. But to others, it looks like he’s just playing around. He nods before grabbing her hand inbetween both of his large palms, ‘’I just liked how fragile- I mean... I like the way your hand feels. It’s soft.’’

Her eyes still locked on all of his movements, she thinks he might not have heard her from the way he looks lost in examining the workings of her fingers. When he begins speaking again, the word fragile stands out, reminding her of his case file. A cold shiver passes down her spine, but she manages to school her expression before it shows. "It feels so soft because I don't do any of my household chores." Turning one of his hand over, she runs her fingers over it. "See, even yours is soft!"

Her touch ignites a fire beneath his skin, that travels further like a domino effect throughout his entire body. He recognized this feeling, and he wondered whether he should stop this. Stop, and not let this feeling grow. But then, the way her fingers smooth over his skin was almost erotic to him, and he didn’t want her to stop. His mouth parted slightly, a quiet exhale pushing through his lips at the feeling, nodding, ‘’Again.’’

She looks up at him with a stricken expression when he asks to be touched again. But the intensity behind his eyes reels her in without her even being aware of it and she begins tracing his palm longer this time, her touch nothing more than feather soft. "Like this?" Even as she asks, she runs the tip of her nails over each of the lines that crisscross along his palms with little pressure. At the feel of him shuddering, she slowly glances up at him with her lower lip caught between her teeth. "More, Taehyung?"

Taehyung closes his eyes, his chest heaving up and down slowly, but heavily. He licks his lips, focusing so hard on the feeling of your nails across his skin, this fire that he knew too well already taking over his body, as his next words just slip out like a sultry growl, ‘’I want more, you drive me mad...’’

Her breathing is equally hard, the sight of him coming undone at her mere touch all too sensual for her to handle. The entire purpose of her presence there slips from her mind somewhere between them getting lost in each other's hands. She gulps at the sound of raw need behind his growl and slowly loops her fingers through his while her other hand is still mindlessly drawing patterns over the sensitive skin of his palm. "How do you want me, Taehyung?" She dares to ask at last in a softer tone.

His eyes open, an intense gaze meeting hers as he drags his lower lip between his teeth, “I want you... on your knees, right here...” His eyes look down between his now spread apart legs, the obvious bulge leaving little to the imagination through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, “I want your soft hands on me.”

Trapped within his gaze and nowhere to run in the room that was locked from outside, she slowly stands up on trembling feet, throwing a cautious look over her shoulders at the door. This was wrong. So wrong. She keeps thinking despite sinking to her knees between his spread legs. Moving one of her hands to the prominent bulge in his pants, she squeezes it softly while looking up at him through her thick lashes. "Like this?" She squeezes harder again and then rubs over it, repeating her motions.

He gazes down at her with heavy eyes, a small smirk playing on his face as he crooks an eyebrow, licking his teeth, “Yes, just like that,” he nods, keeping his hands on his thighs, curling up his fists as he grasps the fabric of his pants, trying to keep his fingers to himself. He knows once he starts touching her , it could go any direction. It was too early. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in the pleasures of having her willingly touch him, “More...” he repeats the same word once more, his possessive affection for her blooming faster than ever.

The situation had escalated way too quickly for her to even grasp it, but she pushes it to the back of her mind. For now, his heavy gaze upon her as she palmed him through his pants was enough to make her shirt stick to her skin from the raising heat around them. She pops a button open on her blouse before sneaking her hand into his pants at his needy demand, feeling his velvety length between her fingers. Her gaze moves up to hold his as she runs a nail from his base to the tip, to catch his reaction.

His burning gaze followed the movements of her unbuttoning her blouse just enough for him to let out a long exhale through his nose. He then focused his attention back down, feeling her nail scrape delicately across the skin of his length, his thighs almost vibrate underneath her, his cock twitches in anticipation, “Take it out...” It sounded more like a demand rather than begging, but it was laced with need.

Looking into his eyes that seemed like it wanted to devour her whole, she drags his throbbing length out of his pants at his needy whine. Even from the feel of him, she knows she'll be able to feel his curved tip all the way into her womb if she were ever to sink down on his pretty length. Shuddering at that thought, she runs her nail over his slit, gathering his precum as she goes before smearing it down his cock, slowly beginning to pump him between her soft hands. "Want more, Taehyung?"

Taehyung struggles to keep his hands to himself, but he’s mustering all his strength, clawing at his thighs as he moans quietly beneath her touch, ‘’Please,’’ His eyes are beginning to have a slightly crazed look to them as he watches how pretty and small her hands look compared to the size of his generous length, ‘’Put it in your mouth, please..’’

As much as she wants to tease and edge him on until he was writhing for her with nothing but her name on his lips, she knew they didn't have enough time. His pleas will have to do for today. Giving his throbbing length a few more drawn out pumps, she kisses the slit, moaning softly at his taste as she lets the tip of her tongue graze it. Opening her mouth wider, she locks her gaze with his while lowering her mouth to swallow him in painfully slow, swirling her tongue as she went along.

Taehyung’s jaw fell open, breathing out heavy, low vibrating groans as he watches his cock disappear between her lips, ‘’So pretty... Prettier than anybody-y ah..’’ His sentence broke into a whimper. He’s had his cock sucked before, but with her, it felt new and foreign, his hyper responsive senses causing his hips to twitch. He wanted to fuck her mouth so badly, but the torture of holding himself back from grasping her hair was another turn on in itself. If you are patient, and wait for something good, the wait will always be worth it.

A part of her feels smug as he is reduced to broken whimpers from her mere touch, such a breathtaking mess to watch despite his immense self control. She wanted to see him lose it though, and touch her the same way she was worshipping him. Stopping when she feels his cock hit the back of her throat, she gives herself a minute to breathe through her nose. Pulling him out halfway, she pushes the skin around his head down until she could suck on it sharply and repeats it till she feels him twitch.

Taehyung was struggling to keep himself collected, his hips starting to buck into her mouth, hands moving an inch closer to her body, but he harshly grips his pants too hard he almost rips through the fabric, ‘’I want to touch you so badly....’’ He breathes out darkly, ‘’But if I do, I can’t control--’’ He breaks into another moan and throws his head back, continuing to move his hips.

When he begins to buck into her mouth, she sucks him in until her cheeks hollow out making obscene noise. At his stuttering words, she unwillingly pulls him out of her mouth. "What if..." She pants deeply, trying to form the right words as her hands pump him steadily. "I want to see you lose it Tae— your carefully constructed control. Don't hold back!" Diving back instantly, she swallows him once again, her other hand moving to toy with his balls as she waits to see if he'd follow her words.

Taehyung screws his eyes shut for a moment, gritting his teeth to muffle the curses that slip through his lips. She wanted it, she wanted it... Could he really give in to his true self? Last time he did, it put him in here. With her as his therapist. Maybe it was fate, he was always supposed to find her, who actually wanted him to show himself for who he was. She cared. He felt like he could trust her, and he really didn’t want to hurt her... Not that much.

‘‘You’re so— shit..’‘ His eyes fly open, his pupils dilated with lust until they were almost blackened, his stare that of a possessive man as he gives in to his desires. His hands travelling to caress her hair, the hair he’s been admiring, and it felt just the way he imagined it, so silky and soft between his fingers. ‘‘You’re everything.’‘ He inhales deeply, his grasp in her hair tightening, pulling at her scalp until it almost burns as he forces her to take his cock deeper.

At his muffled mewls, she rubs her thighs together feeling her own arousal swell. But she ignores it in favour of watching his lust blown eyes focus solely upon her, as if she was the only thing he needed to exist and ruin in the same breath. His reverent touches does nothing to fool her, she knows a madman's eyes when she sees one. Bracing herself on his thighs, she sucks in deeply before he painfully tugs at her hair, thrusting himself back in all the way until her eyes tear up from the stretch.

‘‘Choke on it,’‘ He growls quietly. He didn’t want to be too loud, knowing there were guards outside of the room. His fingers curled around her hair as he starts to control her movements, using her mouth like a toy to fuck his cock into as he wishes. He takes notice of the tears welling up in her eyes, a tint of red in the whites of them from the lack of oxygen, and it sends him one step closer into his madness. He fucking loves the submissive look on her face.

An instant flush travels down her body from his growl, making her core clench. But that wasn't where her trained mind was. When she had asked him to lose it, he had merely found an object, her instead, to control, which begins a series of alarm bells in her head. As she loses her ability to breathe, she suddenly knows why those victims of his ended up dead. In her desperation, she sinks her nails into his thighs, hoping he'd let her go before she faints or worse, add on to his list.

Her nails digging into his thighs only adds to his pleasure, his grip in her hair like iron as he forces her back down on his cock, tears and spit everywhere. His gaze was like ice, eyebrows tightly drawn together as he feels his orgasm creep up on him quickly. ‘’Just— a little more. A little more...Your nose, breathe through your nose.’’ He reminds her while a voice in the back of his mind tells him to stop. It was too much, she was going to pass out if he didn’t stop, or worse, kill her, but it felt too good.

At the feel of his cock twitching inside her mouth, she knows he's deriving pleasure from both his and her pain, making her tears flow freely seeing no escape. A hand claws it's way up, digging itself into his hand as she struggles to breathe through her nose like he instructs. Little more... she fights to hold on to her slipping conscious, sensing his muscles go taut beneath her touch, she instantly moves her other hand to seize his balls. The sooner he got his release, the better for her.

A low, guttural moan vibrated in Taehyung’s chest as the familiar heat pooling in his lower abdomen reaches him, his hips stilling beneath her as he cums, ‘’F-fuck, ye-ees...’’ He growls, his cock pulsating in her mouth as the sticky warmth shoots down her throat. His grip in her hair almost instantly loosens, his body relaxing against the couch as he slouches, chest heaving up and down heavily.

If she could sigh in relief, she would. As soon as she feels his cum shooting down her throat, she greedily swallows it all along with a few desperate inhales of air through her nose. The moment his grip goes lax, she pushes herself off his thighs and falls back on the floor, gasping loudly as her cheeks slowly regain their colour. Her throat feels raw and her chest hurts badly every time she breathes in, but she forces her way up from the floor carefully turned away from his panting form.

As if a switch flipped, Taehyung came back to reality. He pulled his pants back up as he got off his seat, taking one step closer to her form on the ground. “Hey,” he whispers, eyebrows drawn together in concern. Guilt. He didn’t want to lose control, but she asked him to... begged him to.

Hearing the chair squeak as he stands up, she quickly scrambles to her feet to put more distance between them. Wiping her face with the back of her hands, she slowly begins inching towards her bag that was resting next to the table. Raising a hand at his whisper though, she stops him in his tracks. "Don't—" She croaks through her abused throat. "Don't you dare... come any closer!" Her eyes stay on the ground, not willing to meet his after seeing him go insane as she stumbles towards the table.

Taehyung stops, his hand falling down to his side, still keeping his eyes on her, ‘’I... I--’’ He grew frustrated, ‘’You asked me to do it...I shouldn’t have.’’

Grabbing her bag, she pulls her bottle out of it before desperately chugging half of it down to soothe her throat. Once done, she braces herself against the chair still wheezing as her eyes snap up to meet his, forgetting her earlier woes. "I asked you to fuck yourself. Not fucking kill me!" Her words were crude and harsh, but she feels little to no care. Her eyes flicker down to his case file still laying untouched on the table. "Is that— is this what happened to them, Taehyung? Is this why they're dead?"

Taehyung’s expression was sombre, eyes following her gaze to look at the casefile. He sits back down in the couch, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. The very same position he was in the first time they met, ‘’It’s...’’ The way she threw her words at him made him flinch, ‘’I didn’t want to hurt you.’’

Her eyes follow each of his movements, not understanding why her heart aches when he collapses down on the chair after what he did to her. As much as the sane part of her tells her to run while she still can, her medically trained brain fails to see its rationality. He was still her patient who needs her help. Right now, he wasn't the man who tried to hurt her. Sighing miserably, she steps closer to him. "Hey... I know you didn't mean to— it's... okay!" It wasn't. But that was not what he needed to hear right now.

Taehyung looks up at her, keeping his hands tightly clasped together, as if he’s holding his own hand to keep himself grounded. ‘’Did you... want to do it? Why did you ask me to lose control?’’

Her gaze swivels between his clasped hands to hers, remembering how they'd started it all innocently. Pressing a palm to the table, she slumps down into the chair still keeping her distance from him. "I did... Of course, I wanted to do it!" She pauses briefly before glancing up at him with her puffy eyes. "I didn't know you'd... Taehyung, you didn't lose control. You chose to control me instead..." And he damn well took sick pleasure from the crazed look in his eyes. "There's a difference!"

Taehyung started rocking back and forth again, eyes flickering between hers, “I’m not bad.” He convinced himself of this. He wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t the person in the case files. That was somebody else inside of him.

Right there, her first real evidence of his mental illness— his split personality. Without breaking their eye contact, she stands up on unsteady feet taking slow steps towards him, as if approaching a caged animal. "No, you're not bad..." She repeats after him in as much a soothing voice she could manage despite her tender throat. "That wasn't you." She hesitates to kneel before him, fearing it'd be a trigger. "Remember? This is just a dark cloud. It will pass soon and the daffodils will bloom!"

Taehyung intertwines his fingers, as if holding himself tightly, eyes following her every movement. He didnt want to startle her, but oh did he want to hold her. "Are you going to tell them? Are you gonna... stop seeing me?" He didnt care whether or not he was gonna end up free or caged. He just wanted to see her. He didnt want her to leave.

Her heart constricts at the distress in his tone and she moves even closer, letting her shaky fingers reach his hair to soothe it down in reassurance. "I'll tell them in my own way..." She couldn't write down what happened in her report, but she could always omit it out now that she had a diagnosis. Pushing his messy locks out of his eyes, her other hand goes to tilt his chin up to face her. "And who will treat you if I stop coming here? I'm not going anywhere until those flowers of yours bloom."

He genuinely smiles at her words, his hands relaxed in his lap. He dared to let his fingers reach up to gently caress the back of her hand that held his chin, “Thank you.” A knock on the door insinuated that time was up for today’s session, and Taehyungs smile fell. He didn’t want her to leave. She was his daffodil. And not knowing what she was going to do about what happened today made him feel anxious. Maybe she'd keep seeing him, maybe she was just lying to keep him satisfied, then telling them he’s guilty? Or would she deem him as mentally insane, and throw him away to the doctors? The next step was in her hands.

She returns his smile with an unsettled one of her own, that disappears the moment there's another loud knock on the metal door. Shuffling back from him, she smoothes her hair down and runs a hand over her face, looking down at Taehyung. "Do I look okay?" She cannot step out there looking like a mess, making anyone question what happened in there or even suspect a thing. Buttoning her blouse back up as she keeps her eyes on him, "Tae— no one can know what happened here today. Promise me?"

‘‘I promise, if you promise to come back.’‘ Taehyung ran his hand through his hair, a small smile on his lips as he eyes her up and down, ‘‘You look beautiful.’‘

Tsking her tongue at his need to bargain, "I won't be allowed to come back ever if you tell them the truth." She turns to grab her bag, realizing a second later how blunt her words might have sounded. He didn't need that right now, especially not from her. Forcing a smile upon her lips, "Thank you! I promise I'll be back. I might have a way to help you, but I need to discuss the legalities of it with your lawyer. I'll see you tomorrow." She casts one last look at him before leaving promptly.

Taehyung didn’t answer, and quietly observed as she left. Shortly after, the guards came in and cuffed him before leading him to his cell.

That night, Taehyung couldn’t stop thinking about her, even moreso difficult than the previous night. He now knew what she felt like, what she smelled like... The way her tears streamed down her face mixed with drool, struggling for air while choking on his cock— ‘‘Fuck,’‘ He hissed through gritted teeth, one arm placed over his eyes as he laid on his back in the bed, the other occupied with touching himself, thinking of his doctor.

Paraphilia. There was no other easy way to put this down on his report. It wasn't just his split personality, but his sadistic approach to intercourse that bordered on getting off from his partner's pain which led to the murders— she felt sick to even type it down. She can only imagine how he must've felt. The police had found him at the scene of the crime after all. After a long winded discussion with his lawyer, it was decided they'd plead guilty without any criminal charges.

She'd suggest a combined treatment of drugs and behavioural therapy at the facility she worked at so she'd be able to treat him herself for however long they sentenced him into rehabilitation. Content with her work, she found herself making her way back to the prison the next day to share the news with Taehyung. Seeing how the guard was already at his post outside, looking bored, she knew he'd be waiting for her. It was time to keep her promise. She steps in with a smile, "Hi Taehyung!"

Taehyung was anxiously waiting for her to arrive, biting the skin of his fingers. As she finally walks in through the door, chiming his name out with a smile, he straightens up his posture, unable to stop the boxy smile of his own to curl on his lips, ‘‘You came!’‘

"Of course, I did." Leaving her bag on the floor, she turns to him still standing. "I don't break my promises, and I might have found a way to help you!" She finishes, with her gaze intently watching every emotion flickering across his eyes while edging into her chair sideways as she continues. "But before that, I need to know how you're feeling after uh— yesterday?" It was the first time she refuses to meet his eyes in all of their interactions, her eyes lowered as if in shyness but not quite.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, leaning back against the couch as he tries to meet her eyes, but she was purposefully averting them. However he felt a small sense of pride in this, feeling like he’s got a small amount of power of her since yesterday, ‘‘I’m okay. Hm... what about you?’‘

Busying herself with pulling the report and her faithful notepad out, she hums evasively. "Been good... Any problems with sleeping again?" It wasn't fear or any need to be submissive. But seeing his eyes spark with life on many occasions, she'd gotten so used to them that it truly shook her when she witnessed their lifeless dark depths rivetted upon her during whatever it was that happened between them. This was her own way stopping herself before it gets any worse. He was just her patient.

Taehyung shrugged, he wasn’t sure if he ever slept well these days, maybe he was just used to it, so he just didn’t know. ‘’I guess so... I don’t sleep much in general.’’

As much as she wanted to continue on with the trajectory he provided, there was an elephant in the room that she needed to address first. Letting her eyes trail over his form, she finally meets his gaze with regret filling hers. "Taehyung, about yesterday, I owe you an apology for behaving so... unprofessionally and compelling you to do something you clearly didn't want to. I don't know what got into me. I've never— I just wanted you to know I'm genuinely sorry and it'll never happen again!"

Taehyung crossed his arms over his chest, the default position of holding himself, eyes flickering between hers as his head tilted vaguely, ‘’It won’t..?’’ In this case, he meant the situation at all. Did she regret getting down on him? Or did she regret triggering him? He wasn’t sure, and at this point he didn’t want to dig too deeply into it, anxious that he’d scare her off. He couldn’t afford to, especially not when there’s news of him possibly getting out of prison.

When she catches him crossing his arms, she sighs knowing the tell tale signs of suppressing ones true emotions. "It won't." She repeats firmly as if looking down upon a petulant child, her frustrations growing from the amount of whiplash this one man was giving her. "In your own best interest and mine, it's only proper that I remain as your therapist and nothing more, ever." Pushing a new file towards him, "It contains my diagnosis on you. You're welcome to read it if you want or I could summarize it for you."

Taehyung squinted, his gaze lingering on her as if he’s trying to find the lie. No, she was serious. She meant it. He hummed noncomittedly as he grabbed the file, flipping through the pages with his eyebrows drawn together. He didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on the words on the paper, that apparently were about him,‘‘Yeah, if you could... summarize, that’d be great.’‘

Leaning back in her chair at his request, she hides her surprise at his nonchalance about the nature of their relationship. Wasn't this exactly what she wanted though? "You've been diagnosed with split personality and paraphilia, which is something like sexual sadism but to the extreme. Your lawyer, Jim—Mr. Park," she corrects herself, "—thinks this report would be enough to plead guilty without any criminal charges. I have detailed your treatment in there too. You'll be under my care in the hospital."

Taehyung’s eyebrow twitches when she almost mentions his lawyer by first name. Were they two close? He didn’t like that at all. But that was for another time ‘‘Hospital...?’‘ He squints at the words on his paper, looking at the treatment section, ‘‘That’s a lot of medication... Do I have to take it? Isn’t therapy enough?’‘

Wondering if the flash of anger on his face was due to the mention of hospital, she quickly seeks to appease him. "Yes, its the facility I work at. They're not going to completely release you until I find the underlying reason for your illness and treat you back to sound mental health..." Peeking over at the long list of medication he was looking at, she winces apologetically. "We treat certain cases with a combination of drugs and behavioural therapy. I'd reduce the dosage as time goes on. But for now, I'm afraid you need it, Taehyung!"

Taehyung puts the file back on the table, his eyes now back on her as he leans forward with his hands clasped together, ‘’Okay. I’ll do it.’’ He figured this was the best way for now, better than prison. He had to be there for himself to be able to plan out what he has to do, but he’s sure he can reduce the time there quickly, if he’s on his best behavior, and if the nurses were not as strict as he expects them to be... Skipping those meds would be a piece of cake.

Casting him a mildly suspicious look at his all too quick acceptance, she leans forward in his chair. "It's not a matter of your willingness, but the court's verdict in your next hearing. Until then, we continue with our therapy here." As much as she was positive it'd all work out in the end, she didn't want to feed him too much hope. "And Taehyung, I'll be your doctor there! Don't even think you can trick me or my assistants when you're under our care." She warns, taking the file back from him.

‘‘Of course... You can trust me, doctor.’‘ He smiled, but in the back of his head he was cursing. He’d have to figure this out as time went on. But for now, he had to lay low and cooperate. He remained silent leaning back to get comfortable, hands neatly clasped in his lap.

"I dearly hope I can." She mutters under her breath with a slight curve of her lips. Stacking the papers together, she clips it all back in the file as she speaks. "I'll leave it to Jimin to fill you in on the rest of the details about your next hearing. I'll be there before, to give my word as well." Putting everything away, she finally faces him ready to begin their session. "So, we can start from where we left off yesterday. Wh—" She realizes a minute too late, what that'd imply, her face instantly flushing at the memory.

Taehyung's eye twitches at the first name basis she calls his lawyer by once more. This time she didn’t even tries to stop herself. His jaw clenches, but he wills himself to relax once more. He crooked an eyebrow at her last words, and her reaction only made him feel a stir in his lower abdomen at the memory. Behave, Taehyung. “Let’s... where did we leave this at? Remind me.” He wanted to pressure her a bit. It’s the least he could do to get rid of his slowly building jealousy of Jimin.

Her gaze snaps up to meet his at the not so subtle demand, only to find the familiar darkness swirling around its depths. This weird affliction of hers with Taehyung will be the death of her, she decides. Sliding forward in her seat, she speaks in a softer tone, her earlier embarrassment forgotten. "Oh? You'd like that wouldn't you? For me to remind you..." Her voice turns into a whisper with her eyes tracing over his features. "Then how about a reminder of today morning when I told you it's never happening again, Taehyung?"

His lips curl up in a wolfish grin, he was trying so hard to behave. He was going to mess this up again if she kept spurring him on like this. First, she calls his lawyer by his first name. Second, she dares to whisper to him in that manner and within the same moment, reject him? Behave, Taehyung. “I don’t believe you.” Fuck, shut up, he told himself. But the darker part of him didn’t give a rats ass.

Wrong move. At the sight of his predatory grin, she admonishes herself for feeding into his desires when she's supposed to be doing the opposite as his therapist. She's about to pull away and apologize again, but his words bring her to a standstill. Blinking at the obvious challenge in his gaze, she resists the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Fine. What should I do to prove it to you?" She just had to show it to him she wasn't as affected by him as she really was, and then they can put this entire thing behind them.

His devilish smile grew, the boxy shape of his lips more prominent now. Taehyung slumped down on the couch more comfortably, resting his head back, his eyes were growing colder, piercing through her as his gaze drank her in like she was a fine meal. ‘’Watch me,’’ He smirked, licking his upper teeth in a teasing manner, his hand slowly trailing down his chest towards the hem of his pants, ‘’If you watch me touch myself, and you remain unaffected throughout... If you don’t want me at all while watching me, I'll believe you.’’

The satisfaction in his eyes makes it clear that he had her exactly where he wanted her, slyly caught in his web. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she's about to demand what he meant when she sees his hand inch towards his pant. Her eyes flicker between his hand and his burning gaze, nodding once firmly at his words. She'd just have to pretend to be unaffected. Sighing deeply, she drives her own bargain. "Okay. And if I remain unaffected, swear to me you'll never bring this up again?"

Taehyung chuckles breathily, his hand sneaking beneath his pants to directly touch himself, “Promise. And, if you really want me to stop, just say the word...” He moaned lowly, getting harder underneath the fabrics.

Her mouth parts slightly at his breathy words, his moan affecting her almost instantly making some wetness trickle against her underwear. "No. Go ahead!" She replies in a calm voice, her eyes fixed on him and each of his actions, appearing nonchalant despite the havoc he was beginning to cause in her body.

He sees the way she looks at him, even if her words speak differently. And this way, he could engage with her in the way he so much craved, but didn’t want to risk anything by actually touching her. Not yet. So, this will do. Her eyes will be enough for his inner exhibitionist to thrive off of the audience. All he needs is to get her hot and bothered, without laying a single finger on her.

She can feel the heat raise between her legs, but she resolutely keeps them apart, denying herself any kind of friction by crossing them and giving him the gratification of seeing her lose.

Taehyung lets a breathy moan push through his lips once more, using his other hand to pull his pants down further, taking his length out for her to see. He ran his thumb over his slit, spreading his clear juices down his tip before slowly stroking his cock for her, eyes never once leaving hers. “I love feeling your eyes on me, doctor.” His voice was growing needy, teeth clamping down on his lower lip to put on a show.

Her breath almost seizes when he pulls his rock hard length out. She can still feel the phantom weight of it between her fingers; still remember how deep he went when he used her throat so carelessly. Her core clenches around nothing at the mere memory, a muted gasp leaving her lips when he drawls her name out in his deep voice, causing more slick to pool between her thighs. Her fingers clasp on to the edge of her chair trying not to show how affected she was, despite knowing she has already lost.

“See what you to do me?” Taehyung squeezes his shaft firmly within his grasp. His red, swollen tip leaking with precum, he smooths his hand over his thick length, gathering the juices to spread it down his cock until it was glistening with a layer of his arousal. “Fuck, what I’d do to have you sit on it...” He was slow, but deliberate with his motions, aiming to tease her with visuals that’ll be burned into her memory.

She visibly gulps at his question, no longer worried about hiding how the fire in his gaze burns in her own while he was edging her on without even a single touch or graze of skin. Grinding her teeth together, she bites into the insides of her cheek as he strokes his swollen length when she wants nothing but to sink down on it instead and clinch hard until he can barely move inside her. Her breath leaves her in a whoosh and she opens her mouth before she can stop herself. "Ask for it... beg."

Taehyung groans lowly at her words, his hips gently bucking up into his hand. This felt too fucking good. He knows she was entranced by him, he fucking knows that she wants nothing else than to do as he says. But she was holding back, the sexual tension in the room making it hard to breathe, “Please, doctor,” his pleas were interrupted by a moan escaping his lips when he squeezed his shaft, “I want you... please, sit on my cock, fuck me.”

Some semblance of clarity returns to her at his pleading voice. It might not seem like it, but she knew she had a significant amount of power over him—at least in that instance. Shaking her head without taking her eyes off him, she slides off her chair and moves closer, toying with the hem of her skirt tauntingly but still staying out of his grasping range. "Three more strides and I could be on your lap, fucking you deep and hard. But why should I, Taehyung? Why should I after what happened yesterday?"

Taehyung almost whines at her words, his eyes never once wavering from the way she was playing with the hem of her skirt. He keeps stroking himself to the view, his eyebrows drawn together in sexual frustration. If she wouldn’t give in to him soon, he would almost consider whether or not he cares if he ends up in prison for simply taking her right then and there. And it was all too tempting. ‘‘I didn’t mean to... please fuck me, you’re driving me crazy...’‘

Physically feeling it when the darkness begins creeping into the molten heat of his eyes, she hastens to remedy the situation. Taking a step closer to Taehyung, "You cannot touch me unless I ask you to." Another step, "You don't get to come until I say you can." One last step, she tilts his head up with a finger beneath his chin. "Promise me you won't hurt me again and I'll fuck you?" Her gaze alternates between his scorching eyes and throbbing length, anticipating his reply with bated breath.

Taehyung licks his lips, ceasing to touch himself to let his hands fall limp to his sides, ‘’Yes, yes, I promise,’’ He felt desperate for her, his entire body burning with need to feel her slick heat. Her mouth was already his favourite thing, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine how good her cunt would feel. Now, he promised her he'd not to hurt her. But the little voice in the back of his mind laughed, fingers crossed. He wanted to be good, to show her he’s good. This was a true battle within his mind.

Feeling satisfied with his vocal promise, she reaches beneath her skirt giving him a full view of what lay there, and tugs her ruined underwear off her legs before climbing over his lap. Bracing her knees on either side of his thighs, she picks his hot length in her hand and rubs his swollen head against her dripping folds. "Feel that? See how wet you make me without even touching me, Taehyung?" She breathes against his mouth, her other hand tracing his cheek as she pins him with her eyes.

He’s speechless, his eyes dimmed with lust as they are completely fixated on hers. He nods once, to confirm that she was indeed so fucking wet for him. The familiar fire that spreads throughout his body is ignited, and he curls his fists tightly as he grasps the couch. Do not touch her, Taehyung. Do not touch her.. Touch her, touch... No, she’s in control.

"Use your words!" She reminds him in a whisper, with her lips grazing his and her breathing labored as her eyes roam over his features this close for the first time ever. He looked exquisite with his scorching gaze transfixed upon her. Her thumb traces his lower lip teasingly, wondering how different his mouth would taste from his cock. Giving in to the temptation, she presses her lips against his and sinks down on him at the same time, the sudden stretch making her gasp aloud into his mouth.

Taehyung’s lips part, mirroring her gasp, ‘’Oh my God...’’ He groaned out lowly, a quiet growl vibrating in his chest. This was overwhelming for his senses, how deeply she affected him and awoke every single fibre of his being. It felt like he was on fire beneath his skin, desperately clawing at the fabric of the couch, knuckles turning white. He wanted to flip her over and fuck her dumb with her face pressed down against the couch so so badly... But he promised her. Just fuck her raw, you know you want to. He shook his head, his eyes screwing shut, ‘’I’m good. I’m good.’’ He wasn’t talking to her, but to the voice in his head.

Trailing her lips across his cheek and down to his neck, she whimpers burying her face in there. She was right. She could feel his length easily hit her crevix in this angle, stretching her slick walls more than anyone ever had before. It felt like she was made just for him.

Once the initial pain subsides, she raises herself on her knees and sinks down again, welcoming the delicious burn with a throaty moan. "Yes... God! You're good. You're so good to me, Taehyung." She mumbles into his neck, slowly rocking her hips over his, getting used to being filled to the brim.

Threading her fingers into his messy hair, she tugs it back to expose his neck to her greedy lips, nipping and licking along the skin until she reaches his parted mouth. Backing away to look down at him, she hides her disappointment at his closed eyes, choosing to test his restraint instead. "Taehyung... Kiss me."

His eyes slowly open, and the expression on her face was something he could only dream of. Taehyung's head was screaming at him once more, to just fucking take over, and it was probably the most restraint he's ever held against the temptations. As long as she didn't push him further, he would be fine. He wouldn't hurt her... but God, did he want to? He obliged to her wishes, craning his neck to chase her lips with his own, the soft warmth of her lips drawing groans and moans from him, mixed with the feeling of her moving up and down his fat length.

Normally, he would be the one to dirty talk a whole lot more, but he kept his mouth busy with hers, focusing his entire self on keeping himself restrained, his nails almost digging holes into the couch at this point.

She moans against his lips, licking into his mouth as she deepens their kiss, groaning as his taste floods her senses. She could feel his potent hunger for her, so intense bordering on insanity and the masochist in her found it all too tempting to just give in.

Increasing her pace, she bounces on his lap in a wild frenzy, clenching down on his girth hard every time she plunged down on his cock. She could almost feel her high. Almost. Yet, not quite.

Something was missing. Whining in frustration, she pulls away from his mouth and cups his cheeks to make him look at her. She needed his touch to cum even if she knew it was a dangerous thing to even think about. "God... I want your touch so badly. You want it too, don't you?" Laying open mouthed kisses on his jaw, she whispers into his skin. "Make me cum, Tae... Please."

Right there and then, it was like the switch inside of him flipped, the little strength he had left to resist his greedy desires completely washed away from her words. She asked for it, she truly did.

The voice in the back of his head suddenly grew louder, needier. ''Yeah? You need me to make you cum, huh?'' His low, vibrating voice growled out, his hands wasting no time in grabbing her ass, and squeezing the flesh between his fingers so hard, his blunt nails would definitely leave marks,

''Shit, I've wanted you to say that since the very second you came in that door,'' He moaned out in pleasure, using his strength to lift her from his cock just to roughly slam her back down, his hips bucking up to meet her hips, the impact so hard that his bulbous tip is kissing her cervix with every snap.

''Fuck! You feel so fucking good, so fucking gooood...'' His eyes were dimmed in lust and his growing craze for her, the lifeless yet lustful stare blackened out. He wasn't gonna stop, whether she was too sensitive or not, whether she came several times or not. No, he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied.

Her body shudders violently at the sound of his growl, a terrified squeak leaving her lips regardless of the excitement she feels at the brutal press of his fingers against her flesh. "Yes, God... yes!" She whimpers, her pleasure edging on pain once he begins pounding up into her in his relentless pursuit of bliss— more his than hers, she realizes as her eyes tear up from his harsh pace.

Loosening her legs around him, she completely surrenders into his unforgiving touch, mewling lowly when he hits so deep that she could feel him in her womb. "Don't... don't stop please... Fuck!" She bends forward, burrowing her face into his neck, nipping at the soft skin before latching on to it with her teeth, determined to give him equal pain as her fingers work through his shirt buttons to feel his hot skin beneath her palms. One more ruthless thrust of his hips against hers, his pelvis digging hard into her swollen clit and she cums, her body almost seizing at the intensity of her orgasm as she begins almost sobbing his name aloud when he doesn't stop.

“Came already?” He smiles wickedly, but quickly that smile morphs into gritted teeth as he keeps grunting and growling, her fleshy walls spasming around his fat length so perfectly. He had stamina for days, he could fuck her forever if he had the ability to choose, but he knows that with the way she whimpers and sobs his name, he wouldn’t last much longer either. He roughly throws her body down against the couch head first, one hand on the back of her neck pushing her pretty face against the fabrics of the cushion and the other lifting her ass up for him as he gets on his knees behind her, mercilessly advancing his hips back into her clenching hole, skin slapping skin loudly.

She removes her teeth from his neck, her breasts heaving harshly, trying to get some air into her lungs when he unexpectedly pushes her onto the couch. She knew she'd awakened the beast when she asked to be touched, but this— he thrusts back into her without warning, making her sob loudly at the unwelcome intrusion

“You’re a fucking whore for my fat cock, aren’t you?!” His voice was low, almost mocking yet laced with his animalistic greed for her body, utterly lost in his madness, pistoning his cock into her like it was his mission to tear her cunt apart, “You wanted this, you begged for this, fuck— it feels so good, Shit!”.

Her core, still ultra sensitive from her previous orgasm, aches painfully when his still hard as rock length rips through her insides. She digs her nails into the couch, her jaws wide open in a silent scream as he rams his cock in over and over again, taking her like a savage. He was right. She was a whore for his cock. A masochist, addicted to this dark side of him— her own personal piece of hell for the sins she was committing. Soon, a trickle of pleasure begins winding its way from her wrecked womb even through the agony and she grips her walls harder against his cock, hoping he'd spill inside her before actually tearing her apart.

Taehyung kept up a brutal phase, relishing in the choked sobs and silent screams. If a soul could be on fire, his was melting inside of him, the heat pooling in his lower abdomen in the form of an upcoming orgasm. He was gonna cum so fucking hard, all because of her. In his own mind, it feels like he’s claiming her body as his own,

“You are mine, you hear that?!” He snarls as he grew bored of the current position, desperate to see her face. With a swift movement of his strong hands, he once more flips her over like a ragdoll until she was laying on her back, pressing her legs up so far that her knees are adjacent to her head, still plunging his cock into her cunt. This new angle feels even better, abusing her tight insides like his life depended on it,

Right when she believed there would be relief, Taehyung once again proves her wrong by tossing her around and forcing himself inside her violated cunt without any mercy. She feels him go even deeper in this angle, as if it were even possible. She presses the back of her hand to her lips, to keep from sobbing aloud and drawing attention from anyone outside.

“Tell me, doctor”, he moans out with a voice just as strained, his eyes heavy as he stares down at her fucked out state, rocking his hips back and forth with long, firm strokes, “Tell me you’re mine!”

Each time he slams into her, it's as if he wants to infuse himself within her; as if he wants to ruin her for anyone else— her other hand digs painfully onto his arms that holds her down, her toes curling as she feels another orgasm approaching. "Y—yes Taehyung, yes..." She gives into his demand immediately, her voice unwavering. "All yours! I'm yours... only yours." She mumbles over and over again, pushing the side of her face against the couch when it all gets too much to hold back and she cums again, which hurts more than the pleasure she feels as her abused insides grip him tight.

''Y/N,'' Taehyung moans out her name, his hips rocketing into her, phase quickening as he feels like he's gonna go fucking crazy at the wet, squelching noises he draws from her cunt with every stroke driving him insane with how good it feels. When she cums once more on his cock with the squeezing spasms of her walls, the orgasm he's been dying to reach finally reaches him, ''I'm gonna cum! Fuck yes—'' He thrusts into her rapidly clenching pussy a few more times before he grunts, falling forward on top of her body with his elbows placed on each side of her head, letting her legs fall freely to his sides. He hovers with his face above hers, sweat causing his overgrown fringe to stick to his face, eyes closed as he holds their spasming bodies tightly together, savouring the feeling of his throbbing cock spilling his cum deep inside of her.

At the first spurt of his thick cum into her tortured core, a wave of relief washes over her knowing he was done with her for now. Her limbs fall lifelessly on to the couch, despite wanting to push him off her and tell him not to cum inside her. Knowing him, he might not react well to it and she didn't wish to stoke the beast when it seemed satiated at long last. She was probably going to be sore for days, and maybe that had been his plan along.

Finally, she pries open her eyes and blinks up at him through her tears, her body still shaking with occasional tremors every time his warm seed squirts into her womb as if he hasn't filled her up enough. As much as she was upset with him for reducing her to this sobbing mess, she knew she had it coming from the very moment she allowed him to touch her, well aware that she was feeding into his obsession with her.

Taehyung felt himself come back down to reality, in a sense, when the loud monster within him seemed to retreat back into the corners of his soul, satiated for the moment. His gaze traces her features, a glorious mess, knowing he did this to her. But only because she begged him to, she taunted him to. He had absolutely loved it, her submissive sounds, her small body underneath his own, all for him to use. He loved her.

Lifting her slightly trembling hands up to his face, she pushes his sweaty locks off his eyes, content to see the life shining in there once again as opposed to the darkness they were shrouded with not minutes ago. Tracing a thumb under his eyes, "Are you happy?" She breathes out, still struggling to get proper air flow into her lungs. "I lied… I want you just as much as you want me, Tae."

His eyes flickered between hers at her words, as if trying to find the lie. But he couldn’t see it. He wasn’t sure. So he chose to believe her, and a small smile inched his lips upwards, he took the opportunity to kiss her softly on her lips, this one so gentle and affectionate in contrast to what he’d just done to her. “I love you.” He slipped out, merely a raspy whisper, but it was his truth. He slowly got off her body, pulling her along with him as he sat down, wrapping his arms around her in a hug, gently stroking her hair, “You’re my flower, my Daffodil!"

She observes him carefully in this quiet between them, his eyes gliding down her exhausted form still pinned beneath under his body. The wickedness was long gone from his gaze, replaced with uncertainty at her words which soon morphs into undeniable trust weakening her own resolve against giving in to him.

And so, she lets him kiss her, the soft caress of his smiling lips against hers a complete contradiction of his treatment earlier, making her heart tighten in an unnamed emotion. It is only when he utters those three little words, the very last thing she ever expected to hear from him, her entire body freezes up with a muted gasp slipping past her lips.

She lets him pick her off the couch, embrace her lovingly, and even go as far as calling her his flower while the panic slowly sets in her tensed form. It was only his obsession that he was mistaking for love, she was convinced. But how to explain it to him after everything she let him do to her.

Squirming in his hold, she pulls back slightly to look up at him with her bewildered eyes. "Taehyung... No! You— you barely know me for three days. This is not love..." It was merely their carnal desires, making them indulge in each other. "And I'm just your therapist. Not your flower... no..." She whispers softly as if to a wounded animal that could strike her at any moment if she made one wrong move.

His smile faded, eyebrows drawn together at her words, as if hes trying to process the meaning behind them, "You're not just my therapist." He sits up properly, helping her to do the same next to him, "You're mine. You said it yourself.. " he leaned closer to her face, eyes squinting, "I dont understand you...." his jaw clenched, as if trying to stay calm, but he feels the small frustration building inside.

He couldnt understand why she would keep giving in to him physically, but withdraw when he brings his emotions into the picture. He loved her, so what? He had already made his decision. And there's nothing that could change his mind.

She winces when he moves her upright, her skirt rubbing uncomfortably against her swollen cunt. Taking a deep breath and willing the pain away, she glances up to see his unhappy face. "Taehyung..." She tries again in the same placating tone she used before. "I said that in the heat of the moment." Because that's exactly what he wanted to hear from her even if she didn't mean it. Although, she decides not to say it outloud and incense him further.

"This thing between us is not love. We had needs. You wanted me. I did too, I wanted you. But that's just it! Consider this like uh... a kind of behavioural therapy to help you." She tries not to cringe at her own words. None of what she's saying makes sense to her either. She was usually better than this at explaining things, emotions or the lack of it to people. But her brain struggles to cooperate as she trails her eyes over his tense form in concern. Maybe she should've just let him say it without saying anything back— only, that would be akin to leading him on which would've been worse. Sighing heavily, she tries to pull away from him completely. "There's nothing left here to understand. I shouldn't have let any of this happen from the start! It's all my fault..."

Taehyung grabs her wrist as she pulls away, his rich stare growing more frustrated with her, “You’re lying.” He scoffed, “I know what I’m feeling, don’t tell me what is real and what isn’t!”

"I have no reason to lie to you about this!" She cryes, struggling to pry her wrist away from his grip, her voice no longer gentle when he seems to not hear her reasons. "Look... I'm not trying to call your feelings fake. But be realistic about this, Taehyung. You know me for less than two hours in the past three days. Maybe it's infatuation... or lust— let's not label it fancifully as love because it's not!" Placing her other hand over his, she doubles her efforts to wrest his fingers off her arm as she looks at him pleadingly.

Taehyung sighs, but he lets go of her wrist, fumbling to button up his shirt and pull his pants on properly, ''Let's call it lust, then.'' He runs his fingers through his hair, his face stoic as he's in thought. His brain was swirling once more, she was right. They had only known eachother for a mere few hours... But, he knows this feeling. This must be love. Right?

''Question....'' He looks at her while straightening the collar of his shirt, ''Do you seek to trigger my, so called...para...'' He hums as he tries to recall the diagnosis.

She rolls away with a barely concealed grimace once he frees her from his grasp, glad he was finally seeing things clearly. Rubbing a hand over where he held her wrist, she tries to guage how many bruises she might wake up with in the morning and will have to cover up in order not raise anyone's suspicion when his question leaves her shaken.

"What—" Her face falls as she presses her lips together, and hurriedly shakes her head. "God, no! Never, Taehyung. I'd never..." She begins reaching for him with her hand, but thinks against it at the last minute and drops it to her lap. "I want to cure you off your Paraphilia. Not trigger it..." A small part of her might have taken advantage of his weakness for her to try stopping him from doing anything extreme. But he didn't have to know that. "I told you, I only want to help you get better."

“Okay,” he nods, eyes suddenly averting from hers to look at the casefile on the table. He sits back down, looking as if he didn’t just fuck her with all his strength. Well, apart from the marks she left on his arms with her nails, which he didn’t seem to even notice. He rubbed his nape as he kept staring at the file on the table, lips falling open as if he wants to say something, but they close back together just as fast.

He had a lot on his mind to process, from his feelings, to everything they both just did, the way she suddenly rejected him, and now the future. Then once more, the voice smirking in the back of his mind wasn’t worried, it knew exactly what it wanted, and it was her. Nothing else mattered, everything else can be thrown to the side. Fuck the short amount of time together, it was enough. And she wanted him, he’s sure of it. She was just saying this because he was her patient. And one day, he won’t be— and they can be together. Yes... that’s what he believes.

She stands up on unsteady feet, her insides still quivering, and smoothens down her wrinkled skirt. But it turns out to be a mistake when she feels his cum dribble out of her abused cunt, prompting her to quickly tug on her underwear before she dripped everywhere. And that's when she notices Taehyung's eyes fixed on his file on the table but his gaze far away, his mouth opening and closing as if he had questions but didn't want to hear any replies from her.

Calmly, she shuffles back towards him, her mind already formulating a proposition that he might not approve of. "Taehyung, if you don't trust me anymore, I understand. I have been anything but professional to you..." She drums her fingers against the table when he doesn't look up at her or even appears to have acknowledged her. "I can ask someone else to replace me as your therapist. They'll take care of you from now on... You don't have to see me ever again if this all makes you feel awkward?"

His lip quivered at the very mention of her being replaced, eyes darting over to her form. “No. I don’t want anyone else.” He responded coldly. He truly didn’t. If it wasn’t her, he wouldn’t say shit. He wouldn’t cooperate. And by now, he knows she had grown attached too; whether it be out of lust or out of pity. It should be enough to keep her around, he hoped.

“It has to be you.” His eyes softened, glossing over with a layer of tears. He did feel sad, however, this was also gaslighting. He didn’t need to cry. He just wanted to squeeze her heart a little bit for him.

His reaction to her suggestion, just like she expected, didn't phase her much. Every single behaviour of his validating her earlier claim of how she was just his new obsession that he fantasized as love.

Normally, this is when she should throw the towel and withdraw completely from him before either of them posed a real threat to the other. But she genuinely wanted to be the one that cures him. And despite knowing how his glazed eyes were nothing but a device of manipulation, she moves even closer to him and places a hand on his shoulder and rubs it down, cooing at him softly. "Alright... I won't leave you. But then, you need to genuinely cooperate with me and work towards getting better. Promise me, Taehyung?" Her profound need to fix anything broken very well might be the death of her one of these days.

He melts under he touch, feeling accomplished. She wouldn't leave, and that's all he needed. "Okay, I promise," he nodded, and as if he wasnt about to cry in the first place, his eyes were dried up, a small smile on his lips. He glanced over at the clock, completely unaware of how much time had passed. "How much time is left for today?"

As doubtful as she was about his promise, she didn't let it show on her face choosing to return his smile. Glancing down at her watch, "We have about less than twenty minutes left." She contemplates whether to sit down, but chooses not to knowing it'd be harder to get up and out of the chair again. "I won't be seeing you until after your hearing tomorrow, if I can manage. Or it's gonna be only the day after..."

Moving her hand down his arm, she wraps it around his hand and squeezes it comfortingly. It might not have been very sensible to touch him again, but the line between them was so blurry by now that she didn't mind it. "Are you nervous about the hearing?"

Taehyung gently wraps his long fingers around hers, squeezing back as a response, a small sigh pushing through his lips, "Yeah, kind of." She wouldn't be there, so he would feel empty. But for her sake, he'd do well. And hope that things go the way she tells him it would.

She strokes the back of his hand softly with her thumb taking one more step closer and wraps her other hand around his shoulders before bringing him to rest against her body. A hug won't hurt when they've done much more than that. "Don't let it rob you off your sleep tonight. Whichever way it goes, let's hope for the best. And please listen well to Jimin, okay?" Her fingers move into his hair to stroke it gently while she stands holding him close.

Taehyung melts into her hug, sinking his face into the crook of her neck by instinct. He sighed softly, until she mentions Jimin's name. She kept addressing him by his first name so casually, and it was kind of stepping on his nerves. Maybe, he was overthinking it though, but... He still felt jealous. He wanted to be the only one with a casual first name basis. Then again, he has to be nice. Jimin is his lawyer after all.

Taehyung stands still, savouring her embrace for a long as she'd will let him, a soft whisper pushing through his lips, ''Okay. I'll do well.''

She had to raise herself on to her toes and tilt her head all the way back due to their difference in height when he decides to burrow himself into their hug. Despite knowing well how her actions could be considered as her bring irresponsible again and showing her fondness for him openly, especially after his confession, she brushes it all off and holds him close while running her fingers through his hair constantly. He needed her, for now. Just until he got better.

"That's good! Hopefully I'll get to see you at the facility next time and not here." She whispers back, trying not to shiver from his words spoken into her neck. Reluctantly, she tries pulling away only to meet with some resistance from him. "Taehyung, I should be going soon..."

“Just a little longer...” he murmurs into her neck, his arms dare to snake around her waist to hold her tighter, urging her to stay. His heart was beating hard in his chest, the quiet sound of the way he inhales her scent, the only sound heard for the moment. She truly smelled like a flower. If he could choose, he wouldn’t ever let go of her soft body, so small in his embrace. She was like a drug to his senses, both easing his mind & driving him mad.

She lets him hold her for a few extra minutes at his request, her senses hyper aware of how snugly he was embracing her and her heart thumping equally hard in her chest that was flushed against his. Her fingers begin drawing senseless patterns on the back of his neck, on the little exposed skin over the collar of his shirt as she keeps her eyes open and fixed on the ceiling, knowing very well she couldn't afford to get lost in the way he held her. Because she knew his arms weren't always this tender. The strength in them, as cherishing as they may feel right then, could easily snap her in two if he lost his mind to the beast again.

One more look at the clock on the wall and she sighs seeing their time was almost up. "Tae..." Her fingers sink into his hair and tug them back, trying to move his head away from her sensitive neck. "They're gonna come in here if I don't step out now."

Taehyung sighs deeply, a quiet groan rumbling in annoyance vibrates in his throat when she tugs at his hair. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he releases his grip around her, letting his hands fall to his sides, ''I just... I'll miss you.''

She moves away, breathing in relief when his arms finally stop caging her in his hold. Something small tugs her heart at his genuine voice, but she stomps it down harshly before looking up at him again. "You'll see me in two days at the facility... keep holding on to that thought, hm?" Slowly, she collects her stuff up trying not to limp too much as she moves around him.

Right before she's about to open the door though, she turns to cast him a longing look unintentionally. "I..." She begins, her eyes tracing over his features and a little lost in whatever she was about to say, until she decides not to. "—take care, Tae!" She leaves him with a smile. Between her statement and Jimin's tenacity, she was quite confident she'll see him at her facility soon.

And when he was there, nothing could stop her from trying to get him better.

CLICK ME FOR PART TWO

This is the roleplay with 🍁anon turned into part one of this fiction! I hope you love it as much as I do. A big thank you to 🍁 for creating the amazing header, saving the rp, hence why I was even able to repost this in the first place. AND for helping me edit this, I am so so grateful for this. Now, I even think it is even better than the previous version!

#yandere bts #yandere taehyung #yandere kim taehyung #bts smut #taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #dom taehyung #fic: daffodil dreams

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nct-lian · 4 years ago

Text

people who have a crush on lian (outside of the group)

ERIC SOHN, THE BOYZ

duration: april 2020 — present

he actually developed a crush on her after he had watched the music video to her pre-release single, “stay tonight.” he thought she looked SO good and went on to talk about how much he loved that kind of concept on her for weeks on end.

eric obviously knew about her prior to his discovery of the song, having a member that’s been great friends with her for about a year.

he thinks that if kevin would stop hogging lian and actually let her interact with more of the members, he’d be able to “win her over” but according to kevin, she’s his best friend and his best friend only.

do fans know?: yes

fans of both the boyz and nct figured out that eric had a little bit of a crush on her after watching the english line’s episode of the k-pop daebak show with eric nam.

it was the section of which eric nam was reading out all the questions jacob, kevin and eric had sent in for each other, and one of kevin’s questions for eric was, “do you have a crush on my best friend?”

eric nam widened his eyes, “you have a best friend that he has a crush on?” he asked kevin, who was trying not to laugh hysterically at the question that had resurfaced. “he might,” kevin nodded.

“jacob, do you know who he’s talking about?” jacob nodded and suppressed his giggle by lifting the pillow he was hugging tightly to his chest and covering his face with it.

eric held a look on his face that screamed, “i’ve been personally victimized” as he shot his head back and forth between kevin and the other two older men in the room.

“i don’t have a crush on your best friend.. well- you know- like- maybe a celebrity crush.”

kevin cackled, “she’s not a celebrity-” eric nam laughed at that and shrugged his shoulders when eric turned to him for some help. “i don’t even know who’s he’s talking about, don’t look at me!”

“to you!” eric shot back at kevin, implying that he obviously wasn’t going to see her as a celebrity, given their best friend status.

jacob let him himself laugh, “eric, it’s okay, you make it so obvious sometimes.” he reassured his younger member.

eric stuttered over his words and kept shaking his head. “it’s a celebrity crush. no real feelings.” he stated.

the man across from him, again, shrugged his shoulders in confusion. “i still don’t know who we’re talking about?”

kevin apologized and clapped his hands together, “she’s actually schedules to come on this show.” he smiled and threw him a thumbs up. “is she really? oh, i think i know who it is, then.” eric nam made a face and looked at kevin and jacob, who both matched his expression.

then they all looked at eric, “why are you guys looking at me like that? okay, next question.” he smiled in attempt to change the topic. eric obeyed, feeling bad that they were sort of teasing him, while the two others just laughed.

current status: acquaintances (they met through kevin moon)

( FIRST MEETING ) lian had been waiting at the door of kevin’s dormitory for a minute too long, and no matter how many times she knocked, nobody would answer. they were supposed to be going on a walk in order to catch up before their weekly schedules.

lian pulled out her phone and called kevin through facetime, him answering almost immediately. “kevin, why aren’t you answering? i’ve been knocking nonstop.”

he rolled his eyes and told her to just come in and that he’ll be a minute because he can’t find any shoes that look good with his outfit.

she hung up on him and walked inside, greeted with the sight of the boyz’s maknae on the couch. she stopped in her tracks and watched as he scrambled to his feet in panic. “s-sunbaenim, what are you doing here?” eric scratched the back of his neck.

“huh? oh! i’m just waiting for kevin to finish getting ready.” she smiled politely and looked at everything but him, finding the interior of their dorm rather interesting at that moment.

getting uncomfortable with the awkward atmosphere her and eric had created, she yelled out for kevin to hurry up. “moon hyungseo!” she called him by his korean name, knowing that he didn’t like it.

“don’t you dare call me that, bae haneul!” he shot back at her, stumbling out of his room while trying to put on his left shoe.

she chuckled, “hah, jokes on you, i actually like my korean name.” he stuck his tongue out at her, “okay idiot, let’s just go.”

he opened the door for her so she could walk out first, “uhh, bye eric.” lian waved at him with a tight smile before exiting the dorm, kevin following after her.

eric waited for the door to close before he returned her goodbye, giggling like a little schoolboy who’d just received a lolipop.

“she knows my name.” a bright smile replaced the awkward frown on his face.

crush percentage out of 100: 60%

BANG CHAN, STRAY KIDS

duration: unknown — present

chan can remember keeping up with smrookies while he was still a trainee, and he developed some sort of jealousy towards lian. he saw her grow as a person, not just an artist.

he watched her debut first, he watched her transition from red velvet into nct, he watched her achieve his dreams before he could.

this jealousy overtime somehow turned into feelings, and he had no idea what kind of feelings they exactly were.

he hadn’t ever really experienced feelings like this before, and he was terrified to admit what he thought they were. eventually, chan opened up to someone and it was clear that he had a bit of a crush on her — and a big one.

chan began to update himself on smrookies daily, constantly wanting to know what she was up to and what her debut plans were, especially because of the sudden group change.

even now that they’re great friends, he’s always calling her to see what’s going on and if she needs help with anything.

do fans know?: definitely

no doubt do stays know about his feelings — he was bound to slip up once or twice while live streaming to them.

and that slip up just so happened to be while he was reacting to lian’s “play” music video. everything was going fine — bopping his head to the beat and humming calmly, but he couldn’t stop the blush from spreading onto his cheeks while watching her dance with another guy.

yeah, he was jealous, but that doesn’t mean stays had to know. he hysterically fanned his face, somewhat over exaggerating to play it off. “oh- woah- is the ac not working in here suddenly?” he playfully laughed at the camera facing him.

the song soon ended, and chan was back to reading all of the comments. he read some aloud, some in his head, but he accidentally let one slip through his lips.

“do you have a crush on neullie?” he nearly cursed when he realized the question he had just read to the entire live stream said what it said, allowing himself to sit back in his chair as he watched all the comments flood in.

“well, do you?” “CHAN OMFG-” “christopher bang..”

“guys, come on, of course i don’t.” the viewers definitely wanted to believe him; like, a lot, but they couldn’t.

the way he smiles whenever she was brought up in a conversation, how he looks so incredibly proud when talking about her — it would be a complete lie to believe otherwise.

current status: good friends

( FIRST MEETING ) changed out of the sparkly, sequinned dress she’d been wearing for the last couple of hours and now sitting in a pair of sweats and a zip up, lian couldn’t be happier.

finally out of the uncomfortably tall heels and being able to sit down on a cushy sofa while waiting to leave the venue, lian pulled out her phone to check notifications.

five minutes probably passed before her manager gave her the “okay” to start walking to the exit, the car already waiting for her outside.

leaving the dressing room, she saw taeyong, who decided to tag along with the driver (and taeil) so he could see her. “hey, oppa.” she greeted, grabbing onto his arm and leaning on his shoulder for support.

“did you have fun? were you able to see sunmi-sunbaenim today?” he patted her hand slowly. she nodded and made a noise in confirmation, way too tired to give an audible response.

taeyong chuckled as he made sure to keep her upright while getting closer to the exit.

meanwhile, bang chan was talking with felix a couple feet away. he felt bad watching as taeyong struggled to help lian balance herself on her, for sure, wobbly legs.

he saw how terrific she danced that night, completely dominating the stage with her powerful choreography and her clear vocals.

subtly walking in their direction, he put his hand out the minute taeyong’s arm wasn’t able to hold her up anymore. lian looked like she was sleeping at that point.

chan gracefully caught her in his arms, taeyong apologizing and taking her back into his own. “i’m so sorry-” he bowed.

“no, no, it’s okay. she must be tired- uh- would you like some help?” chan offered a helping hand, but taeyong was sure he had other duties to attend to, being the leader of his group and all.

“no! please, i got it from here. thank you for catching her, though, you have no idea what yuta would have done to me if something happened- uh, i’m getting ahead of myself. have a good night.” he noticed how he began rambling on, but chan paid no mind to it.

laughing and keeping the air light, chan nodded his head and bowed, about to walk away after wishing him a safe trip back to the dorms; but that was when lian decided to wake up from her slumber.

“huh?” she looked at taeyong cluelessly, but chan caught her eye. it was then that she noticed johnny’s grey zip up was halfway down her arms, spaghetti strapped tank top (pretty revealing) on full display.

she hastily pulled the sleeves up and looked at chan awkwardly, bowing to him and proceeding to ask taeyong if they were going home.

taeyong nodded his head and put a hand on her shoulder, “yeah, the car is waiting outside. taeil’s in the backseat with your pillow.” he smiled.

lian’s smiled back with a toothy grin, clapping her hands excitedly as she now knew she would be able to sleep on the way home. again realizing chan was watching, she looked back to him.

“it was nice meeting you!” lian waved her hand at him, grabbing onto taeyong’s arm and gently dragging him towards the door leading outside. he complied, but not without shouting yet another “thank you!” to chan, who was still standing in the same spot.

crush percentage out of 100: 90%

CHOI SOOBIN, TOMORROW X TOGETHER

duration: october 2018 — present

soobin was really able to learn more about the different variety of idols in the industry when he first joined bighit, and that surely included lian. he admired her so much; she became one of the people he looked up to most.

she was the only female member in a group that included eighteen other men, how could he not immediately think the highest of her after finding that out?

he would keep up with her scheduling and make sure to listen in on her radio show appearances so he could stay updated. he even bought all of her solo albums so he could put her photocard in the back of his phone case!

do fans know?: yes

moas aren’t even able to count on their fingers the amount of times soobin has said lian was his ideal type or his #1 crush. like, the first couple appearances he had on camera post debut, her photocard was literally still in his phone case.

“moas are asking if you still have a crush on lian-sunbaenim.” yeonjun nodded his head towards soobin, the members of txt all sitting comfortably on the floor of a practice room.

soobin lightly brushed his hair out of his face as he nodded his head, “yeah, she’s gotten even prettier lately. have you see her new music video?” beomgyu nodded excitedly.

“it’s super good! the album is amazing, as well.” he beamed at the phone that was filming them and clapped his hands.

“yah, don’t get too excited; soobinnie will get jealous~” yeonjun teased. soobin playfully hit his hyung on the shoulder and told him to be less embarrassing, a small blush now resting on his dimpled cheeks.

hueningkai and taehyun both laughed at their leader, agreeing that lian has certainly gotten prettier, if that was even possible. the topic was soon over as they began talking about something else, but moas definitely added that into their list of “soobin fanboying over lian” moments.

look forward to the fifteen million new youtube videos about it!

current status: acquaintances, idol x fan

( FIRST MEETING ) soobin almost jumped straight out of his seat when he noticed the goddess herself, lian, walk into the section him and his group were currently in. he watched her bow to the members of itzy before sitting next to them and placing a fluffy blanket onto her lap.

she had just finished performing, and he was still shaking at how perfect it was played out; the sparkly outfits, the amazing choreography, her powerful vocals yet again never disappointed.

the curfew for underage idols now being hit, soobin and yeonjun both bid goodbye to their younger members as lian, yeji and lia did the same for ryujin, chaeryeong and yuna.

the three girls sitting in front of their section soon ran out of things to talk about while waiting for bts to perform their stage, a comforting silence falling upon them. lian allowed her eyes to wonder around her surroundings and ended up unconsciously turning around and staring right at the two members of txt that were left.

yeonjun seemed to have paid no mind to her lingering gaze, but soobin on the other hand could have sworn his heart dropped out of his ass at that very moment. lian, now shaken out of her thoughts, noticed how creepy she probably looked.

bowing in apology, she quickly turned around to talk with lia once again in order to distract herself from the embarrassment that was currently enveloping her whole.

once he knew lian was too invested in her conversation to notice his quiet squeal, he excitedly began bouncing his legs up and down on the cold floor and repeatedly hit yeonjun’s arm.

“huh, what? what’s wrong?” confusion took over his face, wondering why soobin was practically having a heart attack next to him.

“hyung- she looked at me! right at my face! lianna bae looked at me!” yeonjun couldn’t help but scoff at how incredibly excited soobin seemed to be at such a little thing, but it was cute.

crush percentage out of 100: 78%

KIM TAEHYUNG, BANGTAN SONYEONDAN

duration: somewhere in 2019 — present

taehyung has seen lian here and there whenever he browsed twitter on his secret account, and he’s definitely noticed the constant shipping and dating rumours that went on between their fandoms.

the fanwars, the manips — they’ve all been seen by him at some point in time; but he has to admit that from the manips he’s been able to get a good look at, him and lian would actually make a pretty nice looking couple.

but you didn’t hear that from him tf :)

do fans know?: kind of

the calming beat of lian’s “my friend” played in the background of taehyung’s vlive, the viewers all watching him eat peacefully and answer some of their questions.

“are you a fan of lian?” taehyung slowly read out the question as he tried to slurp some of his soup up at the same time. “yes, i like her music a lot..” he trailed off, once again focusing on finishing his soup.

he ate his last spoonful shortly after, continuing his sentence, “i noticed she likes to experiment a lot.. it’s admirable.” he smiled fondly and switched to another song on his playlist after “my friend” ended.

“uh, she’s also really pretty; she fits my ideal type well.” he allowed himself to giggle, somewhat playing it off so the atmosphere on the stream stayed comfortable.

the topic of lian never reappeared that night, fortunately for him, but when he was chaotically woken up the next morning by jungkook, he saw at least five headlines about how he admitted to having a crush on lian.

current status: friends (?)

( FIRST MEETING ) venturing off and losing his members during isac was never taehyung’s intention, but he was able to see some of his friends, so it wasn’t exactly a bad thing. he met a few idols and befriended them, trading phone numbers with a couple new people before heading off to regroup with his six roommates.

on his way there, however, a girl with green sweatpants and a white long sleeved t-shirt caught his eye. he recognized her as nct’s only female member, who was currently running around with seulgi of red velvet.

if he was being completely honest with himself, he’d love to join in on the fun they looked like they were having, but he instead continued on with his journey towards bts. even after a couple minutes of searching around the large stadium he was still unable to find his members.

eventually giving up on his mission, he just decided to back to wherever he last saw some entertainment. he found himself now engaged in a conversation with johnny suh, looking back at lian every now and then to see if she’s gone anywhere.

after a little while, johnny seemed to have caught on, “why are you staring at lian?” taehyung jumped at the question, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly and turning to fully look at the older male beside him.

“uh, i can ask her to come over here if you want. i’ll be a wingman,” johnny winked playfully at the fellow idol, and went over to grab lian before taehyung was able to give a solid answer.

“hey, lian, taeyong wants to talk to you.” he grabbed her hand, and began to drag her towards the bts member, who was literally shitting his pants. seulgi on the other hand, was following the two to wherever lian needed to be, not quite ready to leave.

“noona, go away.” johnny lightly pushed seulgi away from lian, being a shot an “i’m incredibly offended, you’re dead to me” look as as she stomped away from them and over to joy and wendy.

lian silently followed johnny to where “taeyong” was but instead she was met with the face of kim taehyung. she looked back up at johnny with confusion written all over her features, but he shrugged his shoulders and walked away as well.

now, they were just standing there awkwardly looking at each other with nothing to say. “uh, hi, you’re not taeyong.” lian laughed to break the ice, taehyung following shortly after. “yeah, i don’t know what he was trying to do here.” lian nodded in agreement.

lian suddenly became aware of all the fans in the audience and the numerous amounts of fansites that probably had their cameras facing directly at her.

she was able to wrap up her conversation with taehyung pretty quickly, making a mental note in her head of the phone number he’d given her so they could talk later.

once taehyung walked away as he’d finally caught sight of yoongi, lian stomped over to the member of nct 127 and roughly pushed johnny into jungwoo, but he was far too strong to be toppled over like she wanted.

“you idiot, why would you do that? that was so awkward, i hate you and i’m not cooking for you ever again.” johnny simply laughed and ruffled her hair, turning back to hyuck, who was also laughing at her.

she huffed as she was engulfed into a hug by yuta, who almost immediately asked what the hell they were talking about over there.

crush percentage out of 100: 40%

#lian: relationships #nct addition #nct female member #nct 127 #nct #nct dream #wayv #kim taehyung #bang chan #lianna bae #choi soobin #eric sohn #nct 127 added member #nct 127 female member #nct dream added member #nct dream female member #nct 22nd member #nct 24th member

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