#for the past four years. for the past six years. for almost as many years as I've been alive

[sgiandubh]

Flaunting the narrative

I just came back from a nice dinner & drinks in town, with friends who visit from Athens. Lo and behold, my DMs are on fire again, but my (in)famous Inbox is, as expected, resoundingly quiet. [Later edit: not for long].

It would seem S's latest interview for yet another one of those glossy magazines one usually spots untouched in any random Main Street dentist's cabinet or real estate office did manage to raise a couple of eyebrows, after all. With very few data publicly available, Flaunt Magazine is the kind of media outlet with four times less Instagram followers than S, so this begs the question to whom the murder interview really profits:

There is very little out there about Flaunt Magazine, indeed. Other than it was founded in September 1998 by three amigos (Alex Barajas, Jim Turner and Long Nguyen), all of whom were also part of the editorial team of the (now defunct?) Detour Magazine, there is virtually nothing else. This does or should ring a bell about the real importance and relevance of this media stunt - not much to add here, either. Other than that, past issues of Flaunt seem to be traded between fans of celebrities who (more or less) regularly grace its pages, in what I do think are paid/in kind op-eds written by people with no clear professional print, in agreement and by prior arrangement with the talent's PR:

Compared to Flaunt, a real lifestyle press behemoth such as Harper's Bazaar (this blogger has subscribed to for many years, ahem) has a quite different audience level and marketing approach:

Six times more Instagram followers and a clearly more friendly pricing policy:

[Sorry, what I managed to find is the UK offer - blame it on their regional settings, I suppose: however, I think the US offer might not be that different].

In other words, I am beginning to suspect more and more Flaunt is that kind of vanity/hybrid press product, where costs and risks are more or less evenly split between the printer/publisher and the client. Therefore, you would be naive to expect anything else than some tightly controlled, neat-o narrative aligned content. Especially considering the targeted audience, which is (of course) the American fandom, albeit with a tinge of 'sophistication' and a totally artificial 'whimsical twist' (California, here I come).

Onwards to the candid bullshittery.

The article opens with a precise timeline reference:

[Source: https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cy0g2p47xd5o]

Therefore, the interview happened somewhere between 11 and 14 October 2024, just about the time S was overseas and C was spotted having dinner in London with the Rothschilds and no Tracula in sight. And there is another thing that immediately screamed at me from that pixelated page: George Mallory. Which brought me exactly here:

Yes, absolutely. The Golden Goose that never was. That still hurts, judging by the melancholy with which S talks about Everest, not climbing it after all, still planning to visit next December:

Perhaps with Jake Norton, a reputed Scottish American mountaineer (I think you were right on the money, darling - you know who you are, 😘😘❤️), S met and stroke a friendship with since 2023:

The December reference is not innocent at all. It is there to sparkle endless speculation about what S will be doing on Xmas and Hogmanay, too (and with whom, of course - and there you have all the factions dutifully served with an extra side of bullshite to dissect). Fan wars galore, fuming and flaming DMs and inboxes to boot. He/his PR know that and apparently they still need that Idiotenspiel at play for a while. Also, December's got 31 days, something that Stans worldwide seem to suddenly ignore.

Once the proper tone is set and given, the rest flows almost naturally: zero reference to C (1500% expected) and what is a clearly tailored, yet fizzling, bomb:

'I'm really on the precipice': now that is some extraordinary choice of words, isn't it? This and the 'I don't know' are probably the only authentic reactions in the very strange quote I underlined.

'Being on the precipice' is almost always negatively connotated. It logically has nothing to do with the idea of starting a new journey, but it has everything to do with the idea that he is now confronted with the lack of security and comfort and with the potential loss of notoriety the end of OL might bring. Something he very clumsily tries to disguise as 'I feel I'm no longer tied by Outlander', which must also be the counterfactual understatement of the year, really. There is legally and factually no way he wouldn't still be tied by Outlander, irrespective of how tedious that might feel. He still needs the Mommies' hardcore clientele pool, while he is commendably trying to diversify his sales and marketing strategy. These things do not happen in the blink of an eye and he knows it very well. However, he also really needs to portray himself as something else than a one trick pony, in order to remain bankable in Hollywood and elsewhere. Hence the 'I am not tied to OL anymore', I am able to do bigger and better things, and in the long run I would also like to make a springboard, not a dead end out of it.

Finally, there is no way he would be legally untied from OL. Contracts are still contracts. They include clauses and obligations that will be enforced most probably until after the show's last season will be aired. There is very little to zero leeway around it, for the time being. By the time those clauses and obligations will be rendered obsolete, very few of those Anons and Stans and Mommies and Onlies will still be around to even give a flying duck about the whole life situation.

And then, we have the 'maybe I'll start a family'. Despite what all of my Anons are shrieking right now in my inbox, this is not even the first time he hints at it, and I seriously do not understand why the sudden hysterical surge. Anons probably think I am amnesic, or something:

That is a direct quote from Waypoints. He announced nothing. It's been there, in plain sight, for a long time already and if anything, it is consistent with the narrative.

The rest is borderline irrelevant, visually and conceptually incoherent ('nude scenes are difficult and even dangerous to shoot, when dealt with in a non-professional way, but here is a shirtless bucolic pic that will make my Onlies drool and buy collector's issues at extortionate prices'). The overall impression it gave me was of a hastily cobbled and not very clever circumstance paper. Nothing more, nothing less.

There is no amount of wishful thinking that is going to immediately and magically change the current state of play. Reasonable people should expect mild, but constant turbulence ahead, with a sprinkle of cuteness and innuendo just to keep all the fandom's factions engaged and present, which translates to S/C/SC being relevant for potential employers, agents, the press, etc. In a nutshell, absolutely nothing new. You can screech, you won't change an iota of what I know is true and my position is firmer than ever, no matter how ridiculously hard you try to intimidate or harass me. That's all.

[agueforts]

me vs eternal grudges abt d20 captions

[neverendingford]

.

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ spoil you, plug!eren

eren hated when you spent your own money, but you don’t listen.

thinking about the way plug!eren would take you on his drops with him. you were so quiet and in your own world, he never minded the fact that you had your freshly white painted toes resting against the dash of his mercedes AMG coupe. the entire car was blacked out with expensive ceramic tints, protecting you both from your usual…late night activities.

your glasses rested on the cute bridge of your nose as your left leg was sat in eren’s lap while your right rested against the dashboard. eren was lucky that he fucked with most of his customers heavy…you two had been waiting for the dude to meet y’all for nearly thirty minutes now, and had it been someone else, eren would have sped away long time ago.

eren comfortingly rubbed your baby soft feet in the grasp of his tattooed hand, one with beautiful realism art of your own eye. with a turn of his head, he could see you practically nose deep in the bright screen of your phone illuminating through the car. “you growing bored mama?” his voice is concerned. “ian think we was gonna be waiting this long on dude…my bad baby.”

you hadn’t said much since you’d gotten in the car, just wanting to hurry and add all of your things to your shopping cart on the skims website. “nah, ‘m just…trying…to do somethin’ real quick,” you bite your lip as you tap away on your phone. you were trying to add as many things to your cart before it was gone. “before this shit sell out.”

eren being the nosy boy he is leans against your shoulder to see what you were doing. but the moment he’d seen you type in numbers that belonged to what he knew as your own debit card, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “man how many times i gotta tell you to stop using your card to go shopping bae?” you roll your eyes at his words. “i’m serious, you got all three of my cards on ya phone for a reason. fuck is you typing in your info for?”

don’t get him wrong, eren loved the fact that you were independent and knew how to handle money almost perfectly now that you were in your twenties. but being together with you for so long, he continued to step up with his provider capabilities by always taking care of you. whether it was paying your bills, rent—everything in between.

but of course it was a struggle when ms. i can do it all by myself meets mr. i know you can but let me do it for you

“because i’m spending like 600 dollars,” you point out to his previous question with an obvious scoff. “i’m not asking you for that.” eren mirrors your actions and rolls his eyes again.

eren looks at you as if you’re insane and suffered memory loss for the past four years you’ve been together. “babe…i make that shit in one night. actually—fuck a night—i make that shit in two hours!”

it wasn’t like he was lying either, with the way that eren was one of the only trusted plugs in town, it was very easy that he’d bring at least a band a night on a consistent basis. selling for almost six years was finally paying off.

you two hardly ever fought, but if you did, it was always about money. eren knew how long you’ve had to do things on your own physically and financially. you couldn’t go to your mom for help, you didn’t have a dad to beg, so it was all on you since you’d been 16. but now that he had eren, he’d just wish you’d let him take the burden of money of your shoulders and take care of you the way you take care of him.

after a few minutes, your boyfriend holds his hand out. you give him crazy eyes, but eventually follow orders by putting your phone in his hand. “don’t know how many times i gotta tell yo stubborn ass, forreal,” he grunted. “‘s never a problem spoiling my baby. you don’t ever ask me for nothing. let me feel useful and get you stuff, mama.”

with a sigh, you nod your head, like you always did. there was no way eren was gonna take no for an answer when it came to spoiling his wife.

in response, eren uses his free hand to delete your information and instead place the correct numbers—the information to his amex black card. all the money he has, he sits and does nothing with it, so why not buy you all the things you’ve never had before?

when you hear the chime of your phone confirming your order, eren hands you the phone back and goes to look out his dark window.

with your acrylics, you grab eren by the neck and slowly turn him back to face you. “thanks papa,” you gave him genuine eyes.

eren leans forward and pecks your lips. with a serious face, he pecks you one more time before wrapping his tatted fingers around your neck erotically. with a look in your eyes he tells you, “always tell me what you want, no matter how much, mama. you know daddy gonna get that shit for you one way or another, regardless.”

[vamptizm]

NOT A SECRET — paige bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x wnba!fem!reader

synopsis : the bliss of winning the wnba championship causes a big slip up that exposes your relationship to the world

warnings : explicit language, alcohol, cigars and sexual innuendos (if you don’t like the new york liberty, you can replace it with your favourite team idc)

note : i haven’t checked for typos that thoroughly so… my bad

word count : 2.6k

What’s better than succeeding in life in almost every aspect? Sharing that success with someone you love and that loves you back, unconditionally and wholly. Meeting Paige Madison Bueckers had undoubtedly been one of the best things that life had blessed you with, other than your flourishing career. The two of you had met in 2019, both playing for team USA. Later on you would meet again at UConn, playing and succeeding alongside each other for the past four years. It wasn’t until barely a year ago, that the two of you decided to be brave enough to confess your love. But sadly, everything must end for a new chapter to begin, and here you were, living a two and a half hour drive from her to chase your dreams.

Luckily for you, Paige was the most dedicated and passionate girlfriend in the world, making it her mission to attend as many of your games during the playoff season as possible. Today was no different. It was her birthday, her special day, and here she was, supporting you. Hoping to celebrate you, rather than celebrating herself.

You were pacing around the open kitchen of your—extremely overprized—apartment, the nerves and anxiety eating at you like maggots, heart pounding in your throat and hands sweaty. This was by far, one of the most important games in your life so far, if not more important than the game against Iowa only six month ago.

“How about you stop walking around in circles and c’mere?” Paige spoke up from her spot on the malta-beige couch, arm slung over the back rest as her neck craned slightly to look back at you.

“I can’t, I feel like I’m about to throw up.” You spoke, your voice coming out almost like a choked whine, wiping your hands down on your sweatpants for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

You only had an hour left until you had to be ready and at the Barclays Center. Two and a half hours until the final game against the Minnesota Lynx began. You were a mess, and no one could blame you.

Sighing at your distressed state, the blonde lifted herself off of the couch, walking towards you with sympathetic eyes. She hated seeing you this way. It wasn’t the first time, and definitely wouldn’t be the last, but it never burdened her. If you needed to cling to her like a lifeline, she would be there. Every. Single. Time.

“Oh, baby. C’mere.” Her arms opened wide once she was standing a mere foot away from you, wrapping you into a hug. So tight and warm, so comforting and safe that for a moment, it felt like all your worries vanished into thin air. The only thing that mattered was the intoxicating scent and the protective warmth of your girlfriend.

You buried your face into the crook of her neck, arms wrapping around her waist as you allowed yourself to breathe—really breathe—for the first time since you had woken up. “I’m just scared. What if I mess up? What if I disappoint everyone and then I’ll be the rookie that ruined everything.” You mumble into her neck, voice slightly muffled but she understood you perfectly.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” Paige’s voice was firm, yet it didn’t lack the tenderness and gentleness you so desperately needed. Her hands snaked up, pulling away from the hug just enough to be able to cup your face in them. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re on top of the league right now, if not the world. This is not going to ruin your career. It is not going to diminish everything you have achieved and you’re sure as hell not going to disappoint everyone.”

With her hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks and eyes looking deeply into yours, you couldn’t help but tear up. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the nerves, or maybe it was the reassurance and praise that not only her words offered, but her entire presence in that moment.

“You’re going to be great, just as you’ve always been. How many times have you felt just like this and ended up wiping the floor with everyone?”

The way she was looking down at you almost had your knees crumbling, so gentle and sincere. “You think so?” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and if it had been any other situation, you would’ve cringed at yourself.

“Baby, I know so.” Paige didn’t have to say more than that. It was enough to boost your confidence from basement level, to the roof.

You didn’t say much either, choosing to bask in the moment, hands snaking up to lay over hers that were still cupping your face, looking up at her with glassy eyes and a faint smile. In that moment, it was only appropriate for you to inch closer, placing a soft and short kiss on her pillow soft lips.

A smile crept up on the blonde as you pulled back again, “So… How about ‘pre-game good luck’ head?”

“Well… Wait, No! I’m still in distress.”

The arena buzzed with a low hum of anticipation as you stood at the edge of the court, taking in the packed stands, the flashing lights, and the sea of Liberty blue and green. Your heart was pounding—though you'd had nerves all day, they'd sharpened now that the moment was upon you . You scanned the crowd, gaze catching Paige's in her seat near the front. Paige's steadying smile softened the sharp edges of Your anxiety, and you exhaled, focus narrowing. This was it. The moment you had been working your ass of for. It was now or never.

As the whistle blew, your nerves dissolved like mist, replaced by the razor focus of competition. Everything outside the court vanished, your only objective now to take down the Lynx and bring home a win for the team. But as the first quarter unfolded, it became clear this game wouldn't go as planned. Your team struggled to find their rhythm, their usual crisp passes and quick plays seeming off. Shots were bouncing off the rim, free throws missed their mark, and the Lynx defense was ruthless. Every time you managed to drive toward the basket, you felt hands clawing at your arms, hips bumping you hard off course. You fought to keep your form steady, but even your own three-pointers—normally a guaranteed lifeline—fell just short. Beside you, Sabrina was playing through visible pain, her movements cautious, hindered by her UCL injury.

Paige's chest tightened with each missed shot and lost point, her eyes tracking your every move. She could see your frustration mounting, shoulders tensing after every failed attempt, and every bit of her wanted to rush down there, to shield you from the weight of this game. Tell you that she believed in you more than anything.

By halftime, the Liberty had fallen behind by nearly double digits. You felt your stomach knot and churn as you walked back down the tunnel toward the locker room, breath shaky, mind racing over every failed shot, every error. Before you knew it, hot tears were spilling down your cheeks, stinging with the shame of coming up short. You barely noticed the footsteps trailing you until you heard Paige's voice calling out her name, a beacon of comfort piercing her distress.

You slowed and turned, and there was your girlfriend, just outside the locker room door, her eyes brimming with concern. A teasing voice broke the tension—Stewie, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Hey, save some of those tears for the win, rook. You're not out of this yet."

Despite yourself, you let out a shaky laugh, and then you were in Paige's arms, face buried against her shoulder. You clung to her, breathing in the familiar scent and drawing strength from your girlfriend's embrace. "I'm playing like shit right now," you mumbled, voice thick with disappointment.

She tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with steady determination. "Hey, look at me. You've been through worse than this. Most of these people today are here to watch you. You're gonna go back out there and you're gonna play your game. I know you. You're not done." Her words wrapped around you like armor, steadying your nerves. With a last kiss on the cheek, Paige whispered, "Go show them who you are, Ma."

Buoyed by the reassurance, you returned to the court for the second half with renewed fire only ten minutes later. Your team began to close the gap, each player digging deep as they fought to find their rhythm. Your shots began to connect, and your movements were sharper, cleaner, feeding off your team's newfound energy. You could feel Paige's eyes on you from the stands, grounding you with every step.

By the time the game went into overtime, your team had clawed their way to a slim four-point lead, the clock ticking down the final seconds. With a fierce determination, you seized her moment—gripping the ball just past half-court, you made the reckless decision in a split second. You set your stance and launched a deep three-pointer, watching as the ball arched high into the air. The arena fell silent, everyone holding their breath as it spun toward the basket.

And then—swish. The ball dropped cleanly through the net, and the crowd erupted, an unstoppable wave of sound crashing over the court. Your teammates surged around you, pulling you into hugs and shouting in joy, their faces bright with triumph. You felt the overwhelming relief, the weight of victory sinking in as tears of happiness filled your eyes.

Amid the chaos, your gaze instinctively searched for Paige, who was already standing by her seat, pride radiating from her. Without thinking, you ran toward her, your heart full to bursting. When you reached Paige, your threw your arms around her, catching her in a fierce embrace. Before either of you registered what you were doing, you pressed a kiss to Paige's lips, the world melting away in that single moment. You were on cloud nine and nothing could bring you down, anytime soon.

Paige held you close, tears shimmering in her own eyes as she whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Baby. You fucking did it."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of every struggle, every doubt, lifted, replaced by the solid warmth of love, victory, and the freedom to embrace who you truly were.

But then it dawned on you. The sudden realization of what you had just done and your face dropped, heart pounding impossibly faster in your throat all while Paige continued to hold you close. "Oh my god... Oh. My. God." You could barely manage to find the words, the guilt of what you had just done so impulsively hitting you like a wave and throwing you off that thrown you had been sitting on just a mere minute ago.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck... Oh god, I fucked up. The whole world just saw that, what do we do?" It was clear as day that you were panicking, the fear of disappointing your girlfriend eating away at you.

Paige however, didn't seem to have lost that smile on her face, her bright eyes almost blinding with the sparkle that shimmered in them, all while gazing at you. "I don't care. We've talked about this before, I want the world to know."

"Really?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, not trusting yourself to keep it from cracking in that moment.

"Yes, really. I would be fucking insane if I had anything against the world knowing that I'm not only dating the most wonderful person alive, but also a champion."

Your frown quickly turned upside down into a small smile, heart searing with love and pride. Not only were you a winner tonight, but with her on your side, you'd be a winner for the rest of your life.

"Now go and celebrate, you deserve it." The blonde began to release you from her grip, a soft grin playing on her lips.

"Come with me." You suggested instantly, not wanting to be apart from her for even just a second, if you didn't have to. "I wanna show off my prettier trophy on her birthday."

Paige's grin melted into a smirk, the sparkle in her blue eyes suddenly clouded and you had to make sure that your own eyes weren't playing tricks on you. "Your trophy, huh? Oh, I'm gonna fuck you so good when we get back home, champ."

Back in the locker room, the team was in full championship mode. As you and Paige stepped in, you were instantly drenched with a spray of ice-cold champagne, your teammates laughing and cheering as they each took turns celebrating. The room was filled with a mix of joyous shouts, laughter, and the sticky-sweet smell of champagne spilling from bottles held high. You could feel the bubbles fizzing on your skin, jersey soaked through, but none of that mattered—this was the taste of victory, and you drank it in like the best moment of your life.

Stewie grinned, grabbing a cigar and offering it to you with a proud nod. “Here you go, rook. You’ve earned it.”

You took it with a chuckle, feeling the weight of the cigar in your hand as you looked around at your ecstatic teammates. You didn’t smoke often, but right now, it felt like the perfect way to mark the moment. As you lit up, you took a slow draw and exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the air, feeling an odd thrill in the movement. Around you, your teammates roared in laughter and cheered you on, playfully tousling your hair and congratulating you as you relaxed further into the moment.

Paige stood slightly apart from the chaos, watching you with an expression of open admiration. Paige’s gaze lingered on you, catching every spark of joy in your eyes, every smile, and every bit of laughter that spilled from your lips. She let herself soak in the sight, wanting to imprint it on her memory—this perfect image of you, triumphant and glowing, a little champagne-drunk and flushed from the celebration. She didn’t care about the sticky residue of the champagne on her own skin or the faint smell of smoke in the air; all she could focus on was you, looking impossibly beautiful.

As you took another drag, exhaling the smoke with an air of confidence that was as charming as it was unfamiliar, Paige’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about the way you held herself tonight, bold and carefree, that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

You caught Paige’s eyes and, with a giggle, took a playful step toward her, the effects of the champagne clear in your soft, relaxed gaze. “Are you okay over there?” you teased, tilting your head with a grin, clearly catching on to Paige’s stare.

Paige’s lips curled into a smirk, her voice low as she leaned in, brushing a hand along your arm. “Oh, I’m doing great,” she murmured, her tone filled with a hint of mischief. “Just… can’t wait to get you home.”

Your eyes sparkled with a playful challenge as you smirked right back, the faint scent of champagne and cigar smoke hanging in the air between them. “I’m all yours in an hour or so,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that only Paige could hear.

“Longest hour of my life,” Paige replied, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as they lingered on your smile.

The locker room buzzed around you, but in that moment, you both were in your own world, two people tangled in a look filled with promises for later, ready to savor every bit of this win—together.

[someone-will-remember-us]

A leaden silence descended upon the courtroom as the videos began to play over three screens.

There was Gisèle Pelicot, the victim in the center of a rape trial that has rocked France, lying on a bed on her side, her arms limp before her, her mouth open. The sound of her snoring filled the courtroom. She appeared to be dead asleep.

In the videos, she did not respond to the touches of the men, who engaged with her body in sex acts.

Ms. Pelicot had fought hard for these videos to be shown publicly in the courtroom because, she said, they were incontrovertible evidence. While most rape victims have only their word and memory of events, Ms. Pelicot has a library of proof in the form of videos and photographs — taken by her own husband.

Showing them publicly was essential, her lawyer Antoine Camus told the courtroom, “to look rape straight in the eyes.”

It was another astounding moment in a trial that for the past month has gripped France as if by the throat and shaken it violently. The case has raised profound questions about relations between men and women, the prevalence of rape and conceptions of consent.

More than 50 men are on trial together. Almost all are accused of aggravated rape against Ms. Pelicot, a grandmother and retired manager at a big company, while she was in an unconscious state. Her former husband of 50 years, Dominique Pelicot, has pleaded guilty to mixing drugs into her food and drink and inviting others into their home, in a village in southern France where they had retired, to join him in raping her limp body.

While Ms. Pelicot, 71, had the right to request that the trial take place behind closed doors, she decided to make it public. She said that she did it not for her, but to protect other women. Shame, she said, must change sides — from the victims to the perpetrators.

The accused men appear to be a gallery of working-class and middle-class French society: truck drivers, carpenters and trade workers, a nurse, an I.T. expert, a local journalist. They range in age from 26 to 74. Many have children and are in relationships. Over four months, their cases are coming before the court in batches of six or seven a week.

All but 15 have contested the charge. Many have argued that they were tricked into coming into her bedroom by Mr. Pelicot, who had offered them a playful trio with his wife. Many say he led them to believe she was sleeping — or pretending to sleep — as part of the couple’s sexual fantasy. Mr. Pelicot manipulated them when they were vulnerable, some of them have said, and directed them in the acts like a stage manager. They said they had blindly followed his orders.

One said this week that he thought he was also drugged, and had no memory from the moment he entered the room until he returned to his car later. Another said he was so terrified by Mr. Pelicot, whom he regarded as a “predator” and a “psychopath,” that he interacted with Ms. Pelicot’s body calmly in order to “not show weakness, so he attacks me.”

“They took a precise line of defense,” Mr. Camus, one of the lawyers for Ms. Pelicot, told the court on Friday. Ms. Pelicot has said that while the men were perhaps tricked into coming into her bedroom, once they got there, she was so unconscious that it was clear that she could not have possibly given consent.

This is where the videos come in. Mr. Pelicot filmed most of the encounters, often with two cameras, and carefully edited and titled them. Over the course of their investigation, the police found more than 20,000 videos and photographs on his electronic devices, many of them in a digital folder titled “Abuse.”

After initially ruling the videos would not be viewed because of their “indecent and shocking” nature, the judges of the criminal court in Avignon changed their minds after a heated courtroom debate on Friday. Not all the videos would be shown, announced the head judge, Roger Arata — just those videos deemed “strictly necessary” for the “manifestation of the truth.”

A dozen videos and about 10 photos were shown over the courtroom’s three flat screens on Friday afternoon and projected into the overflow room for members of the public, who have continued to line up every day to watch the proceedings and support Ms. Pelicot.

The videos’ titles alone, packed with crude words and read out by the prosecutor, made many observers flinch. Judge Arata said at one point that he didn’t have any “particular desire” to read them out loud any more.

In many, Ms. Pelicot appeared naked, but in some, she wore a garter belt, underwear and white socks. In one, she had a blindfold over her eyes. Her husband told the police he often dressed her up after she was unconscious, and then at the end of the night, he cleaned her and returned her to her nightclothes.

The accused were seen stroking her sides and intimate parts with their hands and mouths. Five were captured putting their penises in her slack mouth. The camera sometimes zoomed in for close-ups. While Ms. Pelicot could be seen moving slightly in some, in none was she seen responding to the touches. She often snored loudly.

The videos played on uncomfortably long. One defendant lowered his face. Many lawyers and journalists stopped looking at the screens.

Thierry Postat, a 61-year-old refrigeration technician who is among those on trial, told the court that he had been involved in swinging and couple sharing since he was 30. He said that in at least three other cases, he had been invited into bedrooms by husbands to have sex with their sleeping wives — only one of whom woke up.

“I trusted Mr. Pelicot,” because most of the time among swingers, Mr. Postat told the court, “it’s the man who organizes things"

But he was pressed by Ms. Pelicot’s lawyer, Mr. Camus: “You really thought you were practicing couple swapping? You see a couple there?” Mr. Camus asked Mr. Postat, referring to the video that had just been shown.

“Yes,” Mr. Postat responded. “The way I remember it.”

Another video captured Simone Mekenese penetrating Ms. Pelicot, while she was lying on her side sleeping.

“You weren’t aware she was unconscious?” asked Stéphane Babonneau, a second lawyer for Ms. Pelicot.

“No,” responded Mr. Mekenese, 43, a driver on a construction site who was a neighbor of the couple’s at the time. “I thought she would participate soon.”

An argument heard repeatedly in court this week was that while they might not have gotten direct consent from Ms. Pelicot, the accused men did not go to the Pelicots’ home with an intention to rape her.

The day before, Mr. Postat had told the court that they might be rapists because they had not received consent, “but we aren’t rapists in our souls.”

After two hours of viewing videos, the court session ended abruptly. People drifted out of the courtroom, and the overflow room, stunned.

“We are in shock,” said Anne-Marie Galvan, 58, a nursing assistant at the local hospital. Her husband, Serge Galvan, stood nearby, tears swelling in his eyes.

“I’m almost ashamed to be a man,” he said. “You could see she was sleeping. It was obvious she was unconscious.”

The couple, and the rest of the crowd, clapped thunderously when Ms. Pelicot passed by, making her way with her lawyers to the court exit. She stopped, looked at the group, and put her hand to her heart.

“We are here for her. We must not let this lady down. We must give her as much strength as possible. It’s important for women,” said Mr. Galvan.

“This,” he added, thinking back to the scenes on the screen, “has to stop.”

[reasonsforhope]

African poverty is partly a consequence of energy poverty. In every other continent the vast majority of people have access to electricity. In Africa 600m people, 43% of the total, cannot readily light their homes or charge their phones. And those who nominally have grid electricity find it as reliable as a Scottish summer. More than three-quarters of African firms experience outages; two-fifths say electricity is the main constraint on their business.

If other sub-Saharan African countries had enjoyed power as reliable as South Africa’s from 1995 to 2007, then the continent’s rate of real GDP growth per person would have been two percentage points higher, more than doubling the actual rate, according to one academic paper. Since then South Africa has also had erratic electricity. So-called “load-shedding” is probably the main reason why the economy has shrunk in four of the past eight quarters.

Solar power is increasingly seen as the solution. Last year Africa installed a record amount of photovoltaic (PV) capacity (though this still made up just 1% of the total added worldwide), notes the African Solar Industry Association (AFSIA), a trade group. Globally most solar PV is built by utilities, but in Africa 65% of new capacity over the past two years has come from large firms contracting directly with developers. These deals are part of a decentralised revolution that could be of huge benefit to African economies.

Ground zero for the revolution is South Africa. Last year saw a record number of blackouts imposed by Eskom, the state-run utility, whose dysfunctional coal-fired power stations regularly break down or operate at far below capacity. Fortunately, as load-shedding was peaking, the costs of solar systems were plummeting.

Between 2019 and 2023 the cost of panels fell by 15%, having already declined by almost 90% in the 2010s. Meanwhile battery storage systems now cost about half as much as five years ago. Industrial users pay 20-40% less per unit when buying electricity from private project developers than on the cheapest Eskom tariff.

In the past two calendar years the amount of solar capacity in South Africa rose from 2.8GW to 7.8GW, notes AFSIA, excluding that installed on the roofs of suburban homes. All together South Africa’s solar capacity could now be almost a fifth of that of Eskom’s coal-fired power stations (albeit those still have a higher “capacity factor”, or ability to produce electricity around the clock). The growth of solar is a key reason why there has been less load-shedding in 2024...

Over the past decade the number of startups providing “distributed renewable energy” (DRE) has grown at a clip. Industry estimates suggest that more than 400m Africans get electricity from solar home systems and that more than ten times as many “mini-grids”, most of which use solar, were built in 2016-20 than in the preceding five years. In Kenya DRE firms employ more than six times as many people as the largest utility. In Nigeria they have created almost as many jobs as the oil and gas industry.

“The future is an extremely distributed system to an extent that people haven’t fully grasped,” argues Matthew Tilleard of CrossBoundary Group, a firm whose customers range from large businesses to hitherto unconnected consumers. “It’s going to happen here in Africa first and most consequentially.”

Ignite, which operates in nine African countries, has products that include a basic panel that powers three light bulbs and a phone charger, as well as solar-powered irrigation pumps, stoves and internet routers, and industrial systems. Customers use mobile money to “unlock” a pay-as-you-go meter.

Yariv Cohen, Ignite’s CEO, reckons that the typical $3 per month spent by consumers is less than what they previously paid for kerosene and at phone-charging kiosks. He describes how farmers are more productive because they do not have to get home before dark and children are getting better test scores because they study under bulbs. One family in Rwanda used to keep their two cows in their house because they feared rustlers might come in the dark; now the cattle snooze al fresco under an outside lamp and the family gets more sleep.

...That is one eye-catching aspect of Africa’s solar revolution. But most of the continent is undergoing a more subtle—and significant—experiment in decentralised, commercially driven solar power. It is a trend that could both transform African economies and offer lessons to the rest of the world."

-via The Economist, June 18, 2024. Paragraph breaks added.

[rhysazriel]

Meet Me in the Copy Room [CEO!Rhysand]

SUMMARY: Rhysand is Y/N’s boss but he likes his secretary more than he should. (10.8k)

WARNINGS: teasing, swearing, kissing, smut; dirty talk, fingering, oral (both receiving and face sitting), protected sex, multiple orgasms

A/N: this is a fic from my other account that I no longer use, I changed some bits around for it to fit Rhys' character after an anon had requested it!! Also, this is a Modern AU bc Rhys’ vibe screams CEO hehe

Y/N has worked in many places before Velaris LTD. She was a waitress for a brief few months when she was in college at a diner near her dorm. She was also a librarian for six months and a part-time barista in the cafe down the street from her parents home. 

She’s done her share in retail and even a year working in the bank, but as of recent, the past seven months, she’s been employed by Velaris LTD, one of the worlds finest trading companies.

She’s no longer assigned a God awful uniform, nor does she have to converse with the general public and adhere to the customers' every need. No. Now, Y/N has her own little office area with a big reception desk with her own phone and separate line across her boss’ office. 

Now, she has her own computer and a little fax machine and she wears heels with pencil skirts and pretty blouses.

Given, she’s a secretary, but an important one at that. She’s not the kind of secretary that runs pointless errands and gets her boss coffee while adhering to their every beck and call. She arranges meetings in the most elite of clubs and restaurants. She files the reports she’s meant to and she handles his schedule and phone calls. 

He may be the CEO, but Y/N is the one behind closed doors that ensures everything runs as smoothly as it does.

And sure, Rhysand is the literal face and name of his damn company and he should ideally hire someone to run the damn business for him, but he’s also narcissistic and refuses whenever it’s brought up to let another man or woman run his business for him. 

Maybe that’s what she likes so much about her job. That he doesn’t trust anyone to be by his side except her.

It’s something she’s struggled to understand for the longest time. She’s three years younger than him, barely just turned twenty-six, yet he chose to hire her over all the other highly-qualified applicants. 

She hasn’t complained about it, would never. Her job is too good. As his personal secretary, her monthly wage is what four months at the diner used to get her. And don’t get her started on the other perks her position offers.

She’s thankful, and she makes that very clear in every opportunity she gets. She didn’t know Rhysand before she got the job, and if she’s completely honest, she’d never ever heard of him. 

She expected him to be some stuck up prick that didn’t respect women and only cared for his company and business. She was proven incredibly wrong at her interview when he made her a cup of tea and asked inclusive questions her previous employers didn’t care to think of.

Within three weeks of having the job, she’d learned more about him than the colleagues that have worked for him since the beginning of his firm. And she doesn’t mean things like how he takes his coffee and his favourite places to go for lunch. She means she knows what laundry detergent he can’t use because it irritates his skin. 

She knows his mother and sister are the most important women to him, that he sometimes misses his mundane life working with his brothers. She knows the meanings behind almost every single tattoo he has and that while the press made him out to be a cheating womaniser when his fiancee left him two years ago, it was actually her that did the cheating and left him heartbroken.

She’s always wondered why Rhysand trusts her so much. She’s never given him a reason not to, and she never would, but it’s always been in the back of her mind. But then, she supposes she doesn’t know why Rhys does a lot of things that regard her. 

Like how, in the mornings, he brings her coffee on his way past her desk. How he always insists he delivers paperwork to her himself and softly apologises for how much she has to file away. 

Or how he’ll send her cheeky emails from his personal about how annoying Gerione is when she tries to flirt with him. And on more than one occasion, she’s noticed him leaning in his chair to get a peek at her through the window of his office; craning his neck up to see her past the high wall of her reception-like desk.

She doesn’t say anything to him, though. She supposes he’s trying to sneakily check in on her to make sure she’s actually doing the work. Y/N knows she’s not the youngest to work for Velaris LTD, but she is the youngest to be fully employed and not as an intern. 

She’s faced ageism within the company since her first day. She’s either babied by the mothers of the company, or criticised and borderline bullied by the ones a few years older and higher up. She hasn’t much let it get to her, though. She figures she’s clearly a valuable asset if the company is still running and Rhysand still wants her by his side.

Today feels no different from any other. She gets to work at 7:45 AM, a sleepy smile on her lips as she greets Amora at the front desk. He smiles through tightly pursed lips and quickly avoids her gaze, greeting another worker with a high-pitched laugh and kissing their cheek. 

Y/N keeps walking, doesn’t let herself dwell and makes for the elevator. She’s alone until she gets up to the twelfth floor and the keycard clipped to her pencil skirt is gently patting against the left side of her lower tummy.

She doesn’t let her eyes take in her appearance as she walks past the floor-to-ceiling mirror that encompasses an entire 15-foot long wall. She knows her ponytail is tight enough and that her shirt is probably a little wonky because her bag that rests on her shoulder is tugging at the collar of it. 

She also doesn’t let herself look to her right because she doesn’t think she has the energy to pretend to ignore the snickers and grimaces from a few of the thirteenth-floor girls this morning.

Instead, Y/N rounds the corner and gets comfortable behind her desk. Her bag is tucked underneath it and her fingers make quick work of logging onto her computer and getting started for the day. Rhysand’s office is directly opposite her, thin windows either side of the tall door and from her seat, she can see his empty desk and a gorgeous view of the city.

It’s exactly 8 AM when Rhysand greets her with her morning coffee. He’s dressed in his usual slick black suit with a charming smile on those pink lips. Y/N would be lying if she said she’s never thought about her boss in more than a professional way. She’s thought about him in many different scenarios where he has her in many different positions.

“Good morning, Rhysand,” she greets him softly, a gentle smile on her plump lips. 

That was another thing that took her a while to get the hang of. Rhys doesn’t like to be referred to by his last name. The first time she greeted him as such, he waved it off and insisted she called him Rhysand or Rhys. 

It’s been months since she even thought of his last time… to the point where every time she sees it on some paperwork, she struggles to pair it with him.

Rhys takes his time every morning to admire her and her outfit of the day. He’s thoroughly pleased about the tight blouse and many open buttons at the top that offer the delicious view of the swell of her perky tits.

He averts his gaze with another charming grin, and can feel his trousers slowly begin to tighten as he places her coffee on her desk. “Morning, darling. How did you sleep?” he asks, always taking a few minutes out of his morning to make sure she feels okay and slept well the night before.

Rhysand’s never really known himself why he purposely goes out of his way to ask her these things. He doesn’t bother to do much with any other of his workers, nor his previous personal secretaries. 

He tells himself it’s because she’s young and new, so he wants to make sure she feels as comfortable and as included as he can. But she’s only three years younger than him and she’s been working for him for over a year.

He needs to stop feeding himself that same bullshit excuse.

Y/N gleams a pretty smile and leans forward with her elbows on the desk, subsequently pressing her tits together deliciously. Rhysand licks his lips, eyeing up her chest before gazing back at her pretty smile again. But it doesn’t go unnoticed and it stirs something that oozes confidence inside her.

She tilts her head a little, a hint of something mischievous in her eyes but Rhys doesn’t notice. Figures she’s too innocent to catch on to his somewhat advances, but little does he know. 

“Slept okay, it’s just really hot in my house lately… I need to speak with my landlord about getting a new AC fitted or I’ll be stuck sleeping naked until further notice,” she tells him through a seemingly innocent sigh, shrugging her shoulders and as hard as Rhysand tries to hide his bulging eyes, she catches them, along with the bulging in his pants.

He raises his brows in amusement and a lopsided grin pulls at the corners of his pink lips. He tilts his head like she did. “Do you only sleep naked when your air con is broken? Thought that’s something people living alone normally did? Freeing and all. I do it,” he shrugs his shoulders. He’s subtly prying, trying to learn if she still lives alone in that cutsey townhouse just twenty minutes away, or if she’s got a man on the scene.

He watches the apples of her cheeks twitch and he wonders if she’s imagining him sleeping naked. She is. He smirks to himself at the thought of what she must be mustering up in that pretty little head of hers. 

It’s nothing new between the two; occasional flirting and topics that definitely should not be discussed between a boss and his secretary. He likes to watch her squirm and splutter and innocently reply in a way that has blood rushing to his cock. 

He’s always observed her closely during these types of interactions, knows how to read her body language. He’s come to learn when she feels uncomfortable, and she’s never shown any signs of discomfort during said topics.

“And it would be freeing if I didn’t have a friend staying with me that often forgets to knock on my bedroom door before storming in,” she chuckles dryly, wondering if her words would rile him up or not. 

She doesn’t know why they would. 

She figures it’s all just harmless banter between the two; a little bit of flirtatious teasing to loosen them up when things get a little stressy. She’s dead certain someone as successful as him would never actually want anything romantic with his fucking assistant.

His brows raise higher than before, can feel his hand ball into tightly clenched fists and he clears his throat, gritting his teeth behind a hard smile. “Oh? You’ve got a friend staying with you?” he asks in a soft tone that doesn’t suggest he’s pissy that her friend gets to see her naked and between her sheets. 

He wonders what else she does naked between the sheets in the dead of night when she can’t sleep. 

She nods, soft hum verberating in her closed mouth as she types something quickly on her computer. “Yeah, he just broke up with his girlfriend so he’s staying at mine until he can get his stuff out and move into the new flat he’s found.” She watches him inhale a shaky breath through his flared nostrils and avert his gaze to the wall behind her.

She’s got a glimmer of a smirk on her lips, eyes light and playful but he doesn’t notice that. Rhysand’s too caught up with the newfound knowledge that it’s a male friend that’s walking in on her naked. 

She wonders if he’s imagining her naked in bed… or maybe entertaining the idea of her fucking her friend one night when he walks in on her. She thinks that might be it but it doesn’t explain why he looks royally pissed… dare she say; jealous?

She tilts her head when he looks back down at her, jaw still set and he clears his throat, seemingly trying to cool himself down. His elbows are bent as his forearms rest on the top of his desk, his back arched just slightly. 

“Not got anyone else he can stay with? What did they break up for?” he pushes further, hopes she’ll turn around and say it’s because he realised he’s gay. She doesn’t.

Instead, Y/N shrugs her shoulders and her elbow leans on the desk, her chin sitting in the palm of her hands as she gazes up at him leaning on the second level of her station. 

“Things weren’t working, he didn’t wanna be tied down just yet. Wanted to have a bit of fun before settling.” She can see the gears in his head turn and tick away as he hums absentmindedly.

She tries not to squint at him, to gauge his reaction and decipher what the meaning behind his distant gaze is. She tries not to look too closely into his blushing cheeks and set jaw. She tries not to let herself fantasise about him being jealous and wanting her to himself. She tries, but it doesn’t work.

Rhysand hums, nodding as if he gets it and maybe he does. She knows all about his one night stands and sleepless nights at the strip clubs he frequents. She also knows about the countless booty calls that tend to frequent his office, only for him to ask her to call security to escort the women out. 

And she absolutely should not find great joy in watching them huff as security links their beefy arms in their dainty ones, but she does.

Y/N thinks she keeps that secret to herself, but more times than not, Rhysand’s seen the hint of a smirk tug at the corner of her lips when he leans on the doorframe of his office. He knows she doesn’t notice him watching her, he likes knowing she thinks he doesn’t see things. He sees it all.

“Well hopefully he’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” he proposes and she has a sneaky suspicion that he’s subtly asking how long he’ll be staying with her. Which is exactly what he’s doing. Y/N hums again and shrugs her shoulders. 

“Actually, I don’t mind him being there, I quite enjoy the company. Gets a bit lonely in the evenings sometimes, to be honest,” she baits.

She watches with a small smirk as Rhys inhales a deep and hollow breath, bowing his head a little so his chin almost rests against his black tie, his jaw knocking against his shirt collar. She doesn’t know where this sudden confidence is coming from. Can she even call it confidence? She isn’t flirting, just baiting him to gauge his reactions.

“Don’t fancy going out with your girlfriends?” He tries to steer away from the topic of other men in her life, but Y/N isn’t finished just yet. 

“Sometimes, on the weekends, sure. But it gets a bit annoying when guys don’t know how to take a hint and keep trying to hit on you all night,” she sighs in fake annoyance and she’s certain she sees red flash through Rhysand’s eyes.

She lets herself think he’s jealous, protective. The thought of her boss thinking of her in a sexual manner and hating the idea of other men being in her home or hitting on her is exciting. It’s a thrilling rush of blood that causes tingles between her thighs and has her pressing them together beneath her desk.

Rhysand’s none the wiser. His fists clench at the image of another man dancing up her but his cock bloats at the thought of her dancing on a night out. No doubt in a short and tight dress. He knows tonight he’ll let himself think he can feel the swell of her ass rubbing against his crotch, let himself think he can taste her lips on his tongue.

He doesn’t say anything else and Y/N thinks he’s thoroughly fucked in his head. “Well, I’ve emailed over your schedule for the morning. Have a good day, Rhys.”

//

Through the rest of the morning, Rhysand struggles to focus on anything that isn’t her. He’s had two conference calls and for both video meetings from his office, he’s been leaned over in his chair with a strained neck, trying to catch sight of what she’s doing at her desk through the thin window in his door. 

He was more than thankful when the calls ended because when she sat on her knees on her chair and leaned over the top of the desk, her tits almost spilled out of her blouse and Rhysand spent the rest of the hour sporting a rock hard boner.

He thinks she’s doing it on purpose when she comes into him after her lunch break. She’s taken her hair out of her ponytail and it falls in loose waves down her shoulders. 

She enters his office with her hands full of paperwork that just so happen to stop beneath the swell of her breasts so they’re able to sit on the pile; all perky and swollen. She’s got a shy smirk on her lips, too. Like she knows she’s taking her end of the teasing a little further and she lets out a little huff of relief after she plops them onto his desk.

Rhys doesn’t try to hide his stare on her chest and she wonders if he catches her staring at the thick bulge in his pants. Neither parties say anything to the other but as their eyes meet, it’s like an unspoken understanding is pieced together. 

A silent acknowledgement that they both know what the other is doing and that they’re more than okay with it. Like all lines between them are completely blurred and any boundaries are ready to be pushed aside.

He watches her hips sway as she leaves his office, closing the door behind her when she leaves. His neck cranes again as he leans to his side in his swivel chair, watching her type something on her computer through the window again. 

Her brows are furrowed softly as she stands and rounds her desk, meeting his gaze through the thin glass and walking past his office completely. He tries to watch her but she disappears from his line of sight and an email pings through his laptop.

Y/N: Meet me in the copy room.

He’s leaping out of his chair before he can even push himself away from his desk. His strides are long and quick as he rips his office door open and slams it closed behind him. He clears his throat and avoids the gaze of his employees, ignores the ogling looks he earns from the women he knows touch themselves to the thought of him late at night.

Rhysand sneaks his way into the copy room, kicking the door closed behind him. She stands in front of him, leaning against the copier with a flirtatiously shy smile. He reaches blindly behind him and twists the lock, his bottom lip taut between his teeth as he ogles her shamelessly. She feels shy under his gaze, knowing he doesn’t care to hide how attracted he is to her.

She doesn’t have time to feel awkward or rake her brain for something to say because he’s rushing toward her and with both large hands caressing her cheeks, his lips are smearing against hers. 

Y/N reaches up and tangles her fingers in his messily styled hair, twisting the curls and tugging softly. His hands leave her face in desperation as they pinch at her hips before rounding her body and squeezing deliciously at her ass.

She tastes like strawberries; her tongue swirling against his. His mind is swimming and all he wants to do is taste her little honey pot, wants to know if she tastes as sweet down there as she does on her tongue. 

She’s no better. His tongue works skilfully against her, licking into her warm mouth and nibbling softly at her bottom lip. She can’t help but suckle filthily on his tongue, wishing to God she was on her knees as he fucks her mouth.

Both of their minds are hazy; like everything they feel is overwhelming and yet not enough all at once. Y/N feels the pulsing between her thighs, can feel her little lace panties soaking up her arousal and Rhysand’s cock is painfully hard in his pants—knows his tip is fucking leaking and no doubt a delicious purple shade.

“God, I‘ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he admits gruffly into her mouth, grabbing handfuls of her ass over her skirt but it’s too tight for him to spread her cheeks like he fucking needs to. 

Y/N whimpers into his mouth and he hikes her up and onto the desk, just beside the copier machine. He rolls her skirt up her thighs until it’s bunched tightly around her waist. Her clothed pussy sits against the cold wood and she shudders, tugging him between her spread legs.

“Why didn’t you?” She breathes heavily into the kiss. 

His hands are gripping at her thighs; the cool metal of his rings sending chills through her body and she’s desperately stripping him from his suit jacket. He groans, hands rushing back up to her face to cup her jaw while he struggles to fight against her to keep his jacket on. 

He kisses her lips and pulls away, mind foggy but he wants to take his time with her, not have a quick fuck in the copy room and never again after that.

“Didn’t know if you wanted it, too,” he breathes, warm breath fanning across her lips and she reaches up blindly to kiss him again. Her eyes are hooded, lips swollen, and Rhysand’s fucked at the sight of her. 

“I do want to, if it wasn’t already obvious,” she groans shyly, a heavy heat sitting on her cheeks and he chuckles, ego inflating as his cock pulses in his pants.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he promises and her eyes light up before she lets him finish his sentence. “But not here, not now. I want to take my time with you,” he rumbles through his chest, cupping her cheeks again and Y/N pouts breathlessly, her once confident demeanour slowly shifting and she feels a little small under his gaze.

“Fuck me now and take your time with me later,” she bargains, not even the slightest bit ashamed of how forward and desperate she’s letting herself seem. 

He’s no better. The second the words slip from her lips, he’s kissing her again; harder than before. It’s desperate; needy and raw. His fingers are tugging her shirt down and her breasts spill over and out of her bra.

Y/N’s head falls back as he tweaks a taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and twisting as he continues his assault down her lean neck. She’s letting breathy whimpers slip past her lips as her head rolls against her shoulder. Y/N scratches at his back, tugging off his suit jacket and he throws it across the boxed room.

Rhys dips his head from her neck, kissing across her clavicle and nipping at her collarbones. He massages hungry open-mouthed kisses across the swell of her tits, circling her pearled nipple with his skilled tongue and she shudders as he envelopes his lips around it, suckling softly and flicking his tongue.

“Rhys,” she breathes in a wanton pant. 

He feels his cock bloat at the sound of his name slipping past her lips in a desperate whimper. Hearing her shudder his name as he latches on her nipple is something he didn’t know he needed to hear.

“Best tits I‘ve ever seen,” he mumbles as he pulls off her with a kiss to her areola, biting at her cleavage. 

Y/N’s fingers are desperately fumbling with his tie, tugging it loose and popping open a few buttons. Rhysand doesn’t give her the time or chance to open more than two before he’s shoving her tiny lace panties to the side and swirling his middle finger through her dripping folds.

Rhys groans at the feel of her; soft and warm, completely fucking drenched. The tip of his finger teases at her hole, swirling around her soaked folds but she wants more, needs it. He seems to sense her desperation because, without a second longer of anticipation, he pushes his finger in and massages at her squishy walls.

He splutters pathetically against her chest, his grip on her hip tightening as he slowly pumps his digit in and out of her dripping heat. 

“Oh shit, you’re so tight,” he groans, completely fucking mesmerised by the way her little pussy is clenching onto him. 

He wonders if his cock will even fit. She shudders breathlessly, thighs willing to clench shut but he doesn’t let them.

His fingers are much longer than hers; hitting deeper than she’s ever able to in the dead of night when she can’t sleep. Her head falls back and Rhysand latches his lips onto her neck, pulling out so his fingertip rests at her hole before he lunges back in with a second digit.

They’re twisting in a ‘come hither’ motion, pads of his fingertips massaging at her squishy spot and she’s quivering and trembling under his touch. Her clit feels like it’s on fire, angry and desperate from the neglect it’s facing so she sneaks a hand between their bodies, holding her weight on one arm as she leans back, and offers herself a pinch of relief.

It’s a filthy fucking sight for Rhys to be privy to; watching her little fingers rub deliciously at her soaked, swollen clit. He’s painfully hard but fuck, he wants to see her cum all over his hand before he releases his bloated cock. 

“Fuck, Rhysand… oh shit,” she’s gasping frantically, legs twitching and toes curling.

He can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since someone last touched her this good. He’s only had his hands on her for a couple of minutes and he can feel how close she is to her tipping point, how badly she needs to explode. He wonders if he’s about to make her cum harder than she ever has before.

She’s getting loud, too vocal for them to get away with the quick rendezvous they’re playing at. It’s when he tests the waters and scissors his fingers before picking up his pace that she falls uncontrollable with the desperate cries and filthy whines. 

He has no other choice than to shove her until her back is pressed against the desk and he’s leaning over her trembling body to press a hand over her mouth.

Y/N’s muffled moans vibrate against his palm and he watches the delicious sight with a deep hunger in his eyes. His teeth are gritted, breaths and grunts seething between them at the sight of her tits bouncing across her chest. 

“Cum, gonna cum!” he hears her muffled voice beg into his hand, a smug grin tugging helplessly at the corners of his lips and he coaxes it out of her.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Gonna cum all over my fingers like a good girl? My good girl?” he spurs her on, eyes rolling at the sensation of her tiny pussy spasming around his thick fingers and fuck, he’s sure he’s about to cum in his pants over it.

Y/N thrashes against the table, chasing her high as he finger fucks her through it. The sounds are obscene; muffled pleas and filthy squelching noises that sound from her messy cunt.

He slows his pace and lets her calm from her orgasm, nosing through her chest and he smears his parted lips across her tits, his tongue sitting on his bottom lip as he does so. Rhysand suckles gently on her pearled nipple as he moves his hand from her mouth and she’s tangling her fingers in his hair, deep breaths causing her chest to ripple.

Y/N’s eyes are fluttering, dazed and overwhelmed and they both know her legs are still trembling in the after-shock. She’s still desperate, though – inhibitions out the window and she no longer wants to play coy or hard to get. She wants his cock and she wants it shoved so deep inside of her that she won’t be able to walk for weeks.

“Please,” she murmurs through half-lidded eyes. Rhys’ brows furrow gently as he pulls off her chest, licking his lips and trying to chase her wanton gaze. When he finally does, he notices just how flushed and fucked she is. He’s a little taken back, if he’s honest. He knows the effect he has on women in the bedroom, but none quite like this for a quick fingerbang in the copy room.

Rhysand reaches for her face, cupping her jaw in his palm and she finally meets his eyes. She’s blinking back rose-tinted hues of arousal to try and see him clearer, but even when her vision isn’t stained with lust, he still looks ravishing and it’s painful.

“Please, what, Miss Y/L/N?” he teases.

Rhysand’s got a sick grin on his face at the way her entire body shudders at his tone and choice of words. She’s a whimpering mess again but he’s barely got his hands on her – one on her hip and the other cupping her jaw. 

“Use your words,” he coaxes. Her lashes flutter angelically across her cheekbones and her lips blabber open and closed like a helpless fish out of water.

“Fuck, need you inside of me. Want your cock.” Y/N’s shuddering at her own choice of words. She’s always loved a bit of dirty talk but not once has it ever really come into play with past partners and if she’s honest, she feels way too shy and filthy. But she fucking loves it.

She loves the way he takes a deep breath – the way he growls to himself to try and fix his composure. She thinks he’s about to give into her, pound her raw and have her sobbing for more, baby, please, I need more! But what she gets is the complete opposite.

Rhysand’s lips hover over her ear, nosing at her neck on his way up before he’s nibbling his way across her jaw until his lips ghost hers.

“Not when you’re so fucked out, Princess. Let me come home with you tonight, back to your place. I’ll be your company,” he nips at her bottom lip, nosing at her jaw again and her head flutters back for a moment, eyes rolling. 

“My place? But my – my friend is there…” she trails off breathlessly, struggling to keep her grip on reality when Rhys begins to suck a bruise against her neck.

He pulls away with a sly grin, eyes hooded and dark and her lashes flutter as she drinks him in. He reaches forward and nips at her bottom lip again. “I know.”

//

She’s nervous as she climbs into his car. He insisted he drive them home and back to work tomorrow morning, which means he plans on staying the night and Y/N is not opposed to that in the slightest. 

But her nerves are getting the best of her when he reaches across the console and lets his hand rest on her thigh, squeezing generously and gnawing on his own bottom lip.

Her mind is working so hard on overdrive that she can’t even focus on one thing to worry about. Rhysand on the other hand, has one thing on his mind and one thing only. Her. 

Excitement is rushing through his veins and he’s sure he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Blood is rushing to his thick cock and all he can think about is her sweet pussy and how it’ll taste when he has her sitting on his face; the only seat she’ll ever want and need.

They make it to her townhouse in no time and she’s clambering out of the car before he has the chance to switch the engine off. He knows she’s just as nervous as she is excited but he doesn’t say anything on the matter – at least, not yet. 

He follows her up the steps to the door, arms shaking around her waist and he kisses across the exposed expanse of her neck, flicking his tongue over the fresh bruise that’s darkened as the day dwindled on.

Neither of them seem to care that it’s still partly daylight and wandering eyes are no doubt watching on with sickening glances and judgemental stares. Y/N struggles to unlock the front door, too busy trying not to roll her head back in pleasure and anticipation. She loosens up a little as he licks wet stripes up her neck, nibbling on the tender skin and the second the door is open, he’s pinning her against it as it slams shut behind them.

His mouth is on her neck, suckling and licking his way up to her jaw, nipping at the curved edge before he licks across the shell of her ear. “Gonna have you dripping on my cock and screaming in my mouth, Princess,” he promises. His tone is dirty, dark and raspy and Y/N’s thinks she’s ready to submit to absolutely anything he fucking wants.

She’s pathetic, really – nodding frantically – eager to please. She doesn’t make an effort to hurry them to her bedroom. She’s too caught in the moment Rhysand thinks he wants to have her friend catch her being fucked roughly against her front door, let him know she’s already being treated as good as it fucking gets.

“Please, Rhys. Need it so bad, please,” she blabbers wetly. 

He kisses her quickly; hot and sticky. Their tongues are dancing a frantic rhythm but their lips still manage to mould and fit like puzzle pieces. Rhysand’s hands are hot on her waist, trailing up her body until he cups beneath the swell of her pretty tits.

“Please, what? What do you need, my love?” he coaxes, suckling on her bottom lip and she’s got half a mind to push him to his knees and hike her thighs over his shoulders. But she doesn’t have the will power or the guts and she’d much rather him dominate the absolute shit out of her.

His demeaning tone has her shaking – nimble fingers trying to tug and claw at the expensive blazer of his suit. She doesn’t know if it excites or frustrates him, but it does spur him on to tear her pretty blouse open and rip her bra in two. 

He ignores her shriek of shock and latches his wet mouth to her tit, sucking her hardened nipple between his lips and rolling his tongue across it.

Y/N’s head rolls back and knocks against the front door, wanton whimpers and yelps shrieking from her throat. Rhysand spares no expense – he’s grunting and moaning, coursing vibrations and shrills through her body that has her pulsing core blazing. She feels like she’s on fire and Rhysand feels like a starving man that’s finally about to eat a three course meal.

First, he’ll make her cum with his fingers. Then with his cock. And for dessert, he’ll have her on his face while he laps up everything else she has to offer. But Rhys doesn’t take into consideration that maybe she wants to taste him, too.

“Need your cock in my mouth.”

The filthy admission takes him back and for a split second, he’s stunned. Rhys halts his attack on her chest and leans back to get a proper look at her. Y/N’s eyes are blazing a fiery red, one that screams need and touch. She’s fucked, utterly. Messy hair and smeared lip gloss across the lower half of her face.

His own eyes are hooded as he watches her very slowly slide down the door. Her knees are bending and he knows what’s coming, what she’s trying to do. Rhysand has half a mind to stop her, to remind her who’s in charge and that he just wants to taste her, to make her feel good. 

The other half tells him to tear out her hair band and hold her hair and head in place with his fist, tells him to let her stuff her mouth with his length by the front door and pray and hope her friend just so happens to be home.

Her shaky hands are unbuckling his belt, tugging down his zipper. Her knees hit the entrance carpet and she reaches back behind her to tug her hair completely loose from her elastic. Rhysand watches, chin meeting his chest, as she massages out the kinks before throwing it over her shoulder.

He can’t stop staring at her as she tugs his pants down just enough to palm over the thick and hard bulge in his boxers. He makes no effort to bite back a grunt and the soft whine that follows. Rhys’ eyes are on her but she’s got her gaze focussed on his clothed cock.

Y/N leans forward, nosing at his thick length. Her mouth is parted; bottom lip dragging a wet strip across the expensive, cotton material as she makes her way up for the little strip of thin hairs that dust down to his sweet spot. When she gets to the top of the elastic, her tongue slips from her mouth and a bold, wet stripe is licked fatly up to his bellybutton.

She feels him shudder, hands on the fronts of his thighs and they creep up to the waistband of his boxers. Rhysand’s got one hand tangled in her hair, blunt nails scratching at her scalp and the other is leaning against her front door, supporting his crushing weight up.

“Are you gonna take all of me, baby?” he coaxes. 

Spit begins to well in her mouth as she tugs his boxers down and she’s finally face to face with her boss’ thick, long cock. He’s massive, that much she’s certain of and the way his tip glistens an angry pink proves he’s just as eager as she is. She wonders if he’s been as hard since the copy room earlier today.

Rhysand’s tugging at her hair, trying to get her to focus on the situation at hand rather than ogling at his cock. He usually wouldn’t mind, but right now he’s far too desperate to be lodged down her warm throat to think about anything else. His cock twitches as it slaps at his lower abdomen, leaving damp trails of precum in his tip’s wake.

It’s standing tall when Y/N leans forward on her knees. She’s got her palms bracing her weight on his thick thighs and her tongue sits on her bottom lip, licking a bold and wide strip up the entire eight inches of his thick length. Rhysand’s grunting when her tongue swirls around his head before she’s suckling the soft flesh into her mouth.

Her cheeks are softly hollowed and gentle hums of approval sound around him at the salty taste that sits heady on her tongue. Her lips are stretched around his puffy head, the actual width of him nearly choking her but fuck, if she doesn’t love it with every ounce of her dirty little soul.

She’s got those innocent doe eyes staring up at him while she suckles on his length. Relaxing her throat to take him a little deeper, Y/N pumps in a firm fist what she can’t fit; twisting her wrist. 

Rhys can’t keep his fucking eyes off her – puffy lips swollen and stretched and if he sees another dribble of saliva drip from her lips and down the valley of her tits, he’s gonna cum straight down her throat.

“Fuck, such a good mouth. So fucking good, Princess,” he goads. 

He’s gnawing hard on his bottom lip, mouth salivating at the sight of his pretty little secretary on her knees with her mouth stuffed with his cock. Rhysand can’t help his ego from inflating when she lets him guide his hips until he hits the back of her throat, choking her lightly and she splutters around his length.

It’s filthy – the noises her mouth and his cock are making – but Rhysand’s living for it. Pools and dribbles of saliva and precum are spilling and bubbling from the corners of her mouth and the swells of her tits are soaked from it alone. She’s comfy on her knees now and takes her free hand from his thigh to tug his pants and boxers down further.

She’s picked up her pace, sucking harder and fisting the few inches she can’t take. Y/N’s hand snakes further down and reaches around a little until she’s cupping and massaging his aching balls, coaxing the release she knows he’s about to give her. His taste is getting saltier on her tongue and his hips are staggering with each gentle thrust he offers into her throat.

Rhys’ grip on her hair is hard and tight, knuckles bumping at her skull as he tries to drill her head closer to him, to force more of him down her throat. As much as she tries to relax herself, she can’t take him all and she wants nothing more than to bury her nose in the short hairs that lead from his bellybutton to his shaft.

“Such a good girl for me. Sucking me so fucking well, gonna cum,” he warns and praises the young woman and she comes off him with a frantic gasp. 

Her eyes are watering and his cock is soaked, but that doesn’t stop her from spitting the rest of his arousal on his length and pumping him as quickly as she can.

She’s got that confidence about her again as she focuses on his tip, fisting both hands around his throbbing cock as she smears her swollen lips across his sensitive head. She smacks it against her tongue, offering hollow sucks to guide him over the edge.

Rhys’ got his forehead resting against the door and he’s grunting and groaning, biting back animalistic moans. He can’t wrap his head around it, the most sloppy and incredible blowjob he’s ever had. 

“Wanna taste it. Cum, Rhysand,” she whines greedily, one hand leaving his cock to tear her blouse open just enough for her tits to spill out of it. “Cum all over my tits, baby.”

His orgasm washes over him with a heady grunt and hot spurts of white ribbons that smother her tits perfectly. She’s standing on her knees, using the tip of his aching cock as a paintbrush to smear his cum across her lustful chest. He’s smashing his head against the door, trying to blink away the orgasmic-bliss he’s been thrown in and take a grip of reality again.

When he finally looks down at her, stepping back a little from the door, he’s panting and twitching and she’s licking her lips clean. Y/N’s got that innocent sparkle sitting in her eyes again. Rhysand has to shake his head and let out an exasperated laugh. He’s smoothing down her tangled and matted hair and guiding her back to her feet.

“So fucking sexy,” he groans when he takes note of her cum-smothered tits. 

His lips are smearing against hers greedily, and there’s something so exciting and erotic about tasting himself on her sweet tongue. Her hands are soaked and sticky but she still tangles them in his hair to kiss him harder.

She’s too fucking horny to feel shy or embarrassed about what she’s just done against her front door. “Gonna fuck me now? Thought you promised me you’d fuck me with your cock?” she whispers tauntingly against his lips and he grins, still completely fucked out.

Even though he’s painfully hard again, he doesn’t have it in him to sheath himself in her tight little cunt just yet. He’s got stamina, but his poor cock can’t recover from a blinding orgasm like that too quickly. He nods, hands on her ass and he’s groping like a starved man. 

“And I will, Princess. But you got a taste of me, it’s only fair I get a taste of you, don’t you think?” he teases.

She’s putty in his hands, though – nodding breathlessly as her nose bumps his. She can feel his hard cock against her middle and he gives her pert ass a spank, enticing a high whine from her raw lips. 

“Suppose you better show me to your room then, my love… unless you want your friend to come and watch?” he offers, like he wouldn’t be opposed in the slightest.

If Rhysand’s honest, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d gladly let her friend watch him absolutely ruin her tight cunt.

“Put your cock in your pants,” she breathes, the firm order doing nothing but coaxing dribbles of precum from his dick. He shoves himself back in his boxers but makes no attempt to button up his trousers while she covers her chest again.

Y/N’s got her hand in his as she leads him up the steps of her townhouse, hips swaying more than usual and Rhysand knows, but he’s too horny to tease her for it. All he can think about is having that ass sat on his face and he’s salivating at the thought of her taste.

He doesn’t take in the decor on the walls or the frilly rug on the floor of the hall. He doesn’t even take in the style of her bedroom when she shoves him inside and kicks the door closed. Rhysand, instead, is too busy tearing her blouse open and ignoring the buttons skidding across her oak floors.

She’s no better, eager to get him naked and claw at his tattooed chest. They’re both naked in seconds, hands all over the other in a desperate attempt to get off. She’s guiding him to her bed, tits in his face and he paws at her breasts as she straddles his lap. She expects him to pin her down, to devour her little cunt but he doesn’t.

He kisses her lips and grips her thighs – laying on his back with his head on her pillow and tugging her up his body and she starts to get the hint when she stops on his chest. Rhysand’s frowning, kneading at her thighs and jutting his chin in the air a little.

“Told you I wanted a taste, now come and sit on your throne, Princess.” She’s giddy with excitement and arousal, head cloudy and she lets him guide her up the rest of his body. 

Her entire pussy is slick and swollen when her knees rest either side of his head. He loops his arms around her legs and rests his hands on her ass, squeezing and massaging her cheeks.

“Fucking look at you, baby. So wet and so soft,” he coos, craning his head up to suck bruises on her thighs. Y/N’s got her fingers tangled in his messy dark locks and when he spreads her ass apart, she falls a little and her soaked cunt sits on his face.

Rhysand’s mouth wastes no time, sucking and licking and nibbling at her hole and clit. He’s swirling wet strokes through her folds, deep and long. Her sweet scent is heavy on his tongue and he’s got his eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss. Y/N is a mess above him – head thrown back and fingers tugging at his unruly locks.

“Oh my God,” she whines, breathing erratically but Rhysand’s having the time of his life. 

She shudders as he brings a hand down on her ass, her meaty flesh jiggling before he’s grabbing it again and pulling her apart and further up his face. He’s got a knot in his brow, tongue circling at her weeping hole and he can’t get enough of her taste.

“So good, so fucking good. Don’t stop,” she begs, desperate and eager. 

Rhys lets his tongue trail up the length of her pussy until the flatness of his tongue is rubbing at her swollen clit, enticing moan after filthy moan to slip from her silky tongue. He wraps his mouth around her little nub, sucking and nibbling and she’s seeing stars.

Y/N can’t seem to catch her breath and she’s rolling her hips on his face like she fucking owns him. Rhysand comes off her clit with a little pop, open-mouthed kisses smeared over her dripping cunt and he sucks a swollen lip into his mouth, biting teasingly and she gasps into the dim room.

Her nipples have puckered in the cool air and one hand leaves his head to tweak and pinch at one of the neglected nubs. She’s trembling on his face, thighs clenching around his head as he kneads and spanks at her ass. Rhysand’s grunting deliciously into her cunt, sending vibrations through the woman’s core and egging her on.

He knows she’s close, knew he wouldn’t have to be between her thighs for too long after she came so quickly from his fingers earlier in the copy room, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t gladly spend hours devouring her. She’s sweet – sweeter than he hoped and expected – and it’s better than any feeling he’s ever had before. Sweet like watermelon with a tangy hint.

It’s fucking intoxicating and when she cums, it only tastes better. “I’m cuming, oh shit, oh God…” Y/N can’t think straight. 

Her vision is blinding by streaking light that blocks her sight and the wanton and borderline pornographic moans are music to Rhysand’s ears. She’s shaking, body jolting and when Rhys opens his eyes to watch her unravel on his tongue, all he sees is her head rolling back and the underswell of her tits bouncing before her back coils and she hunches into herself.

He’s lapping her of every single last drop she has, desperate to have her taste lingering on his tongue for as long as he possibly can. His cock is overly bloated and sticky as precum sticks to his lower abdomen but maybe his ego is even more bloated, knowing he didn’t even have to use his fingers to get her quivering and begging above him.

“Fuck,” she gasps in a slow drawl. 

Her voice is deep and raspy, like she’s seething as she tries to catch her breath and stop the shakes from taking over in her post-orgasmic state. Rhysand’s kitten licking her softly, moving his head to bite playfully at the thickness of her inner thighs and he traces over a soft, faded stretch mark with his tongue.

“Sweetest fucking pussy I‘ve ever tasted,” he groans in approval. 

Rhys maneuvers them both so she’s pressed against the mattress, and even in her fucked-out, overly-blissed state, she’s still whining and eager for his cock again. She’s insatiable and Rhysand can’t help the amused chuckle that slips from his lips.

“So fucking desperate, Princess,” he taunts.

He takes a moment to admire her, take her all in. Her pussy is swollen, soaked still and he can almost see her clit pulsing as her hole clenches. Her chest is rattling in deep breaths and her eyes are lidded heavily as she creeps her foot up his thigh, reaching for his hard cock.

He hums appreciatively, spreading her bent knees open and crawling between her legs again. He’s got a hand resting by her head to support his weight – the other gripping her chin in his hold and he forces her mouth open as he lets saliva well in his mouth.

She gets the hint, knows what he’s about to do and she’s desperate to get a taste of herself from him. Y/N’s tongue falls out flat on her bottom lip, eyes a little wider and she holds his firm gaze when he spits on her tongue and forces her mouth closed again. 

The sweetness of her arousal is heavy in her mouth and she swallows what he offered before her lips part again and her tongue is licking up at his stubbly chin, reaching for his lips.

Rhysand’s eyes are blazing, dick twitching against her thigh and he kisses her hard, teeth clashing and tongues dancing an uncoordinated rhythm, but it works. Y/N suckles on his tongue as he groans, pinching at her nipple before he reaches down to palm his cock some.

“Need to get a condom,” he breathes into her mouth but she’s shaking her head. He leaves his cock and reaches for her cunt, attending to her fiery clit that’s far too sensitive but she welcomes the touch, nonetheless. 

“Wanna feel you,” she admits, no shame in the embarrassingly desperate statement and Rhysand thinks he’s about to fucking explode on her cunt before he even gets a proper feel of it.

He wants to, needs to feel her slick and velvety walls hug and suck him in, wants to be consumed by her heat and arousal but even in his lust-filled state, his brain is still turned on. He shakes his head painfully. 

“Next time,” he offers, doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes light up at the insinuation but she nods with a desperate, laboured breath.

She reaches to her side for her nightstand, retrieving a foil packet from the top drawer and she rips it open with her teeth before Rhysand can take it from her. His eyes are wide when she tugs it from the packaging and reaches down for his cock. She pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it over his thick head, sliding it slick down his shaft and he’s grunting in pleasure over the act.

“Fuck. You’re so sexy,” he mutters gruffly against her lips and she whimpers, eyes rolling back at the sheer tone of his voice. Her legs are spread wide as he reaches for his cock and rubs himself up and down her folds a few times.

Y/N’s giddy with excitement, pussy clenching in anticipation and he slowly rolls his hips forward, his fat tip nudging through the tight entrance ring of her pussy and she shudders a gentle shriek at the obvious intrusion.

“Oh, fuck!” she gasps out. 

Her chest is already heaving when he begins to sheath himself in, spreading her wide and drilling in deep. Y/N’s eyes have rolled to the back of her head and her toes have curled inwardly and just how much he’s filling her up.

Rhysand’s no better – teeth gritted and eyes clenched shut. His grip on her hips have his knuckles turning white but neither of them seem to mind the bruises that’ll be apparent in the morning. She’s tight around him, warm and slick and even with the condom, he can feel every pulse her pussy offers.

Rhys rolls his hips slowly, getting her used to his thick girth and generous length. Y/N’s clawing at his shoulders with each soft whine until his pace begins to pick up and the bed starts to rock. Her tits are bouncing on her chest, nipples hard and desperate for a good sucking.

He manoeuvres his body to lean his head down, biting on her hard nub and sucking. “Shit, you’re so fucking big, oh my God,” she praises through a strangled moan. He’s snapping his hips, grunting and smirking against her slobbery tits. 

His tongue is flicking over her nipple in quick strokes as his teeth bite softly but she’s keening at the blissful shoots of pain.

“Tight pussy, baby. Tightest fucking pussy I‘ve ever had.” He pops off her breast and smears his lips against hers. 

She can still taste him on her tongue and the feel of his lips on hers is overwhelming. His thick cock is brushing against all the good spots and she can’t wrap her head around how sex could ever feel this good.

“Faster, please, faster. Just like that,” she begs out through another broken moan. He’s seething through gritted teeth as he wills back his animalistic grunts, drills his hips in quicker thrusts and the wet squelches of his cock and her pussy is music to both of their ears.

“Hear that? Hear how fucking wet you are?” he teases, leaning back and shuffling until he’s on his knees between her quaking thighs. “Fuck, you fit me so fucking good, Princess.” He’s gnawing down on his bottom lip, likely drawing blood but he can’t bring himself to care.

Y/N’s got her head thrown back in her pillows, eyes rolled to the back of her head as her lashes flutter like angel wings. “This cunt was fucking made for me,” he growls through gritted teeth as he releases his lower lip. She’s nodding helplessly at his words, crying out in pure ecstasy at the filth he’s talking and she fucking loves it.

“All yours, Rhys. Pussy’s all yours,” she agrees quickly. 

Her voice is broken, high pitched and whiney. Rhysand thinks it’s borderline pornographic and it only makes his cock throb in her cunt. “Fuck,” he seethes, watching the way her full breasts bounce on her chest.

He lets his gaze avert to where they meet – where his thick cock is drilling into her cunt and fucking her into the mattress. He’s completely slick with every thrust that has his dick pulling out of her. His balls are slapping against her ass, slick with her wetness that leaks from her tight hole and even both their thighs are growing sticky from her arousal and their sweat.

Between them, they’re eager messes, desperate for a hot release and it’s haunting the both of them. Rhysand can feel her cunt clench tenderly around him and Y/N can feel his cock twitching between her soft walls. 

“Fuck, can feel you squeezing me baby, making you feel good, Princess?” He knows he’s making her feel fucking heavenly but the narcassist in him needs to hear that bit of praise.

She’s nodding frantically, eager to give him what he wants to hear. “Yes, fuck, yes! So good, Rhys. I love your cock, makes me feel so fucking full.” She’s moaning through every word, sentence broken by wanton cries and pornographic whines. She’s fucking filthy, dribble running down the corners of her lips as she speaks.

Rhysand’s fucked, can feel his release toppling close to the edge but he needs to feel her cum around him first. “Yeah? You like me buried in your tight little cunt, my love? Like feeling me in your fucking tummy?” He sets a firm palm across her stomach, adding just enough pressure to feel himself nudge at her lower abdomen and his head is spinning.

“More, please. I’m gonna fucking cum, Rhys. Make me cum on your cock, make me cum, please.” She’s begging through desperate tears and Rhysand’s ego is through the fucking roof. His eyes are rolling back at the sound of her broken pleads and he leans closer.

He’s got one hand holding his weight by her head, the other locking around her throat. He watches for a moment, still pounding into her, to see if she tells him to stop, tells him she doesn’t like that. But she reaches up and tightens his hold on her throat and her other hand snakes between them to rub feverishly at her swollen clit.

“Harder,” she demands, voice steady and dark and there’s a primal instinct that washes over Rhysand that tells him to fucking obliterate her. He’s choking her as his cock tears into her, weeping in the condom and Y/N’s sobbing beneath him.

Her thighs begin to tremble, eyes rolled right back and she feels like she’s floating. “I’m cuming! Rhys, I’m gonna cum!” Her body convulses under his touch and waves of bliss roll over her. She’s cumming around his cock, shaking and sobbing and whining like a dirty little girl and Rhysand’s living for it.

He fucks her through her state of bliss, grip still tight on her throat until he feels her calm down and he’s ready to explode. Even in her blissed out state, Y/N knows what she wants. She suckles on his thumb as he grips her jaw and takes her spare hand to push him back just enough to pull his cock out of her cunt.

With hooded eyes and swollen lips, she peels off the condom and tosses it to the side. Rhysand’s eyes are blown wide, brows knitted and even in her hazy state she can see how desperate his cock is for a relief.

He’s hissing when she wraps a hand around his wet length and lazily starts pumping his shaft. “If you can’t come in my pussy, I want your cum all over it.” His head falls back at the admission, cock twitching in her hand and it only takes a few futile pumps before she’s smearing his tip across her swollen clit and he’s cumming.

Hot ribbons of clear-ish cum paint her cunt, spilling across her folds and clit in desperate spurts. “Fuck, oh shit. So good, such a good fucking girl,” he’s praising in broken moans and wanton whines.

Y/N’s pussy clenches around nothing as she watches his thick cock slowly soften to one of a slightly smaller size. They’re both fucked out as Rhysand catches his breath and falls to her side, panting and heaving with a sweaty and heavy chest.

She can barely keep her eyes open, thighs still trembling from her post-orgasmic state and Rhysand’s trying to come to terms with what just happened. He’s too infatuated to scold himself for fucking a damn employee. For fucking his secretary.

He can hear her heavy breathing from beside her and he peeks a look, watching her eyes flutter as she stares up at her ceiling. He holds his breath in hopes of hearing any movement on the other side of the bedroom door but all he can hear is his heart hammering through his body.

He takes a heaving breath and looks back up at the ceiling. “You think your friend might’ve heard us?” He speaks up, breaking the silence. He hears her breath stagger and silence before she lets out an uneven sigh and he can feel her chest shaking.

Rhysand turns to her with pinched brows and she’s grinning with eyes squinted shut. “What? What are you laughing at?” She’s giggling again and Rhys sits up to get a better look at her. She’s thoroughly fucked out.

“I don’t have a friend staying with me,” she admits shyly through a broken laugh and it takes Rhysand a hot second to grasp onto what she’s just said. When he does, his eyes widen and jaw falls slack, smirk tugging on the corners of his parted lips.

Y/N turns to him, running a hand through his matted hair and she gnaws on her bottom lip, staring into his fucked out eyes. “Just wanted to try and get you in my bed,” she confesses.

They’re both grinning; Y/N letting out a squealed shriek as Rhysand pounces on top of her and pins her hands above her head, nosing and biting at her jaw and neck. His eyes are gleaming nothing but mischief as his nose knocks hers and he notices the fire in her eyes.

He nips at her lips. “You lied to me? To get me in your bed like I‘m some sort of cheap hooker?” He’s teasing her now and the banter has her stomach flipping. Y/N shrugs, feigning nonchalance, eyes blazing and she licks into his mouth. 

“Worked though, didn’t it?”

Rhysand pulls away from her lips just enough to see the look on her face. She’s shy under his gaze, innocent eyes staring up at him but there’s still that flash of filth and cheekiness that’s loitering behind them and when she gnaws on her bottom lip, Rhysand can’t help but feel completely fucked.

“You little minx.”

let me know what you thought!!

[coyote-with-a-keyboard]

Past, present, future

a/n: well, writing creativity hits me at the worst times. Including when I have a concussion! This one is for my silly moot @fortheb0ys

Minors DNI

Phillip was stressed. If stressed was even the right word. He was tired, and bored, and yet constantly busy busy busy. It was starting to make his head swirl so damn much that he decided to toss off his work and jobs to his poor second in command and go back to his little home town in the middle of nowhere Texas

He wasn’t there to see family, hell no. He had put his parents in a retirement home in Dallas years and years ago. He was going just to fish where he used to fish and enjoy how little that town changes- as if time was slowed there. He pulled up to his hotel happy as a clam and practically running to the local bar, enjoying as many drinks as he wanted to calm down, until he saw you walk in. Oh fuck

he hadn’t seen you since high school, since he left the whole backwater town to try his luck in the military, and told you by note. By note! He really did regret that now, how he had probably shattered you. Sure you two never ‘dated’, his parents would have slaughtered him for something like dating a man- but you two sure did everything a couple could. Nights spent together hidden away in a camping tent, secret kisses and hickeys littering him in the morning… he had really felt like shit having the nerve to show up here now, feeling wheezy and sick to his stomach.

he sat nervously next to you at the bar, letting you look him up and down as he drank a shot of whiskey, then two, then three. And a conversation started between you, about how your lives had ended up and how you’d stayed in the little country town and definitely flourished- calloused hands and well built figure filling in where you once were younger and softer, and the more he drank the more comfortable he felt around you, chuckling at your jokes and leaning into you as if he was head over heals again.

Four shots, five shots, six,

he was feeling real sick now, he wasn’t a lightweight by any means. But he had definitely lost track and gone above any standard he usually had. He felt Ick all over, barely wanting to walk out the door let alone leave you and go to his hotel- not that he could walk that far in the state he was in. He needed you in more ways than one, so he begged you pathetically to carry you home. Your grip and warmth grounded him enough that he got a grip while you carried him, softly nuzzling into your chest and hoping you’d stay just a little longer and indulge him just a bit more.

he didn’t deserve you, he knew that. You were his a long time ago and he had royally fucked up- but he missed everything about you, every little detail was making his mind spin with old memories he had thought he had forgotten. He let you carry him into your house without a single protest- too in bliss and too drunk to bother you with the idea of carrying him back to his shitty hotel, especially when your house smelt of your cologne and safety.

he almost melted in your bed; whining and pulling you next to him before utterly dozing off, and clinging to you as if you would disappear if he let go

he woke up with an utterly pounding headache and a hangover worse then death himself- sitting up with a groan before remembering where he was, and that he was in your jacket from the bar… he has definitely made a fool of himself in front of you. But he supposed it was better then being alone in your apartment- he laid practically on top of you, feeling your even breathing as you slept. He had missed the feeling of being oh so close to you, but he still wanted to be closer- okay sure, it might be a bit wrong but he couldn’t help himself but kiss down your neck softly, his hands wondering and his body slipping down a bit, in no hurry to wake you up- just wanting to feel you.

he mouthed at your boxers a bit, shaking you awake enough to get a groan out of you and a tired nod as you tossed your head back on the pillow tiredly, still half asleep as he tugged your boxers down your legs and wrapped his pretty lips around your cock-head, taking you inch by inch slowly and choking a bit until he had every inch in his mouth, little gasps coming out of his stretched lips as he breathed you in, tears and spit dribbling down his face. He was focused on solely you, only little grinds of his hips against your leg giving himself physical pleasure

he hummed softly at the feeling of your hand grasping in his hair, before getting thrown off rhythm at a rough tug from you, pulling him off- a small drop of pre-cum and spit connecting his lips and your soaked member before you forced him back all the way down. You had gotten a lot rougher, and it felt so so good to be gasping as those big blue eyes of his poured with tears- looking like a mess. But he was your mess again. Yours.

he choked and gagged every so often, but worked you up until you were grasping his shoulders tight enough to bruise, painting his throat white as he swallowed every drop down, cumming in his own pants untouched before he pulled himself away and rolled beside you

“missed you, sugar.” Was all he could mutter as he caught his breath

[jewishvitya]

Haaretz did this:

The full thing is under the cut, in case this link is paywalled for other people. The actual text has blocked out portions as well, to highlight what it's like to report on cases of administrative detention.

Highlights:

Like all administrative detention hearings, it was held in-camera, to obscure the fact that detainees' lawyers do their job without access to the facts of the case. Even the few details that are not secret are prohibited for publication. The administrative detention order was approved in full for a period of six months

And

In the past, it was considered, at least officially, a measure reserved for the most extreme of cases. This hypocritical position has always been false, but now there is no longer any need to save face. According to the Israeli army's own data, almost 5,000 arrests were made in the West Bank in the past eight months. These are very conservative numbers, as they don't include the many thousands arrested and released without being indicted.

The data shows that administrative detention, this so-called extreme of extremes, is now the norm. According to Israeli Prison Service numbers, Israel now holds 7016 people who have not yet been convicted in its jails – either awaiting trial or under administrative detention. Of these, 4,299 – more than 60%! – are held without charge or trial. And all that is without saying a single word about the torture, hunger and humiliation to which all Palestinian prisoners held by Israel are subjected these days.

Administrative detention is based on secret suspicions, secret evidence and no charges being brought. To conceal its inherent absurdity, hearings are held in-camera and away from the public eye. As such, even the little that is revealed to the defense remains prohibited for publication.

On the morning of October 29, after a short farewell to his wife Nariman and their kids, Bassem Tamimi left his home in the West Bank village of Nabi Saleh, north of Ramallah, and started heading east toward the Allenby Bridge. He was on his way to visit relatives in Jordan he had not seen in a long time. A little after 11 A.M., Nariman received a message saying, "The secret police asked for me. I'll write when it's over." And then, shortly after 3 P.M., a call: "I am being arrested. They're coming to take the phone. Have to go. Bye."

This, unfortunately, was not Bassem's first encounter with Israeli law. His village, Nabi Saleh, has waged a multi-year campaign of civil resistance against land grabs and settlement expansion. As a prominent activist, he was incarcerated repeatedly for his role as a protest leader, part of Israel's attempt to quell dissent.

In the evening, the phone rang again. The woman on the line introduced herself, saying she lived in Silwan and was currently at the Hadassa hospital in Jerusalem. She then went on to say that Bassem was there, surrounded by soldiers. He was taken there after his blood pressure soared dangerously. Nariman could faintly hear Bassem's voice over the line saying, "I'm fine, don't worry, everything's good." After a few more hours, at night, that same woman sent a picture of Bassem in the ER, undergoing a checkup; his hand bound with ziptie cuffs. That was the last time Nariman heard from him. Save for a single short lawyer visit before Eid al-Fitr in April, no one has been in contact with him since.

Four days after his arrest, police ████, ████ ████: "███████ ███ ████ █████ ███ ████████, ██████, █████? "███████ ███ ██████: "████ ███ ██████." And that was that. Eight days later – the maximum time afforded to the authorities by article 33 of Israel's military law in the West Bank before a detainee must be presented before a judge (who also is a soldier in uniform) – a six-month administrative detention order was issued, which did not suggest any specific allegations, but rather only a very general statement regarding ███████ ██ █ ███████ .

Eleven more days later, the Kafkaesque proceedings of judicial review over the order took place. Some of it was held ex-parte between the soldier-judge and the Shin Bet. Like all administrative detention hearings, it was held in-camera, to obscure the fact that detainees' lawyers do their job without access to the facts of the case. Even the few details that are not secret are prohibited for publication. The administrative detention order was approved in full for a period of six months, until April 28.

Administrative detention, however, is not really bound by the limits of time, and can be extended indefinitely. And indeed, as the six months passed, a new six-month order was signed, citing the same meaningless cause of ██████ ████ █ ██████ ██ █. This time however, and unlike the state of affairs in almost any other administrative detention case, the defense had a pretty good insight into the details of the case. Administrative detention is such a mundane phenomenon in Israeli military courts, that , , , .

A few hours prior to Bassem's arrest, Israeli forces arrested █████ █ ████ █ ██████ ███ █████ █ ████████ ███ ███, Bassem's friend from their days together in Israeli jail at the beginning of the millennium. Then too, under administrative detention. ██████ ███ █████ █ ███ ████ ███ ███ ██████ █ ██ █████ █ ███ █████ ███ ███ █ ███ ███ ████, █ ████ ███ ███ ████ ███ ████ █ █ ███ █████ ██ ██ ██ ██ ███ ████ █ ███ █████ ███ ███ █████ ███ ████ █ ███. █████ ███ ███ █████ ███ █████ █ ███, █████ ███ ███ ███ ███ ███ █████ █ ████ ███ ███ ████ ███ █████? █ █████ ██ ███ ███. ██ ███ ██ ███ █ ██ █████ ███ ███ ██████ ███ █████ █ █████ ███ ███ ██████ ███ █████.

█ ████ ███ ███ ███ █████ ███ █████ █ ████ ████ ███ ███ ████ ███ █████ █ ████ ██ ███, ██████ ███ █████ █ ███ ████ ███ ███ ████ ███ █████ █ ██ ███ ███ ███ ███ ██ ███ ███ █ "██████ ███ ███ ████ ███ ████ █ ██████ ███ ███? █████ ███ █████ █ ████ ███ ███ █████ ███ ████ █ ███████ ███." ███ ██████ ███ ████ █ ███ ███ ███ ██ ███ █████ █ ██████ ███ ███ 25 ███ ██ █████ █ ███████ ████, long after the administrative detention order against Bassem was reviewed and approved by the court, ██████ was unconditionally released.

On his release, ██████ contacted Nariman and told her what had happened, thinking that his release must also mean Bassem should soon follow. This is how the defense learned the details it knows, and not through discovery by the prosecution. Even though there is no gag order on ██████ ██████'s case, discussing its details in conjunction with Bassem's administrative detention is prohibited for publication. Despite everything that was revealed – and that is the nature of administrative detention: there can always be more hidden evidence, secret, almost mystical – Bassem is still being held under administrative detention even now. Almost two weeks after the hearing, ███ █ ██ ██████ ██████ ████████ █████ █ █████ █ █████, the judge partially confirmed the second administrative detention order against Bassem in violation of military law provisions, ████████ ████ █ ███ █ ███████ ███ █ ████████.

Like Bassem, thousands more are held captive by Israel under administrative detention. In the past, it was considered, at least officially, a measure reserved for the most extreme of cases. This hypocritical position has always been false, but now there is no longer any need to save face. According to the Israeli army's own data, almost 5,000 arrests were made in the West Bank in the past eight months. These are very conservative numbers, as they don't include the many thousands arrested and released without being indicted.

The data shows that administrative detention, this so-called extreme of extremes, is now the norm. According to Israeli Prison Service numbers, Israel now holds 7016 people who have not yet been convicted in its jails – either awaiting trial or under administrative detention. Of these, 4,299 – more than 60%! – are held without charge or trial. And all that is without saying a single word about the torture, hunger and humiliation to which all Palestinian prisoners held by Israel are subjected these days.

[sound-of-scoups]

Moth To A Flame | JJK & KMG | 01

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female!Reader x Kim Mingyu  Genre|tags: Idol!au, series, established relationship, infidelity, love triangle, lots of angst, lots of drama, smut, fluff.  Word count: 9.2k+ Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). Chapter warnings: A LOT of angst and tension, explicit language, sexual innuendos, kissing. Lemme know if there's more. A/N: I’m so happy it’s finally out!!! Just a few notes: I don't want to specify an exact date, but the events take place mostly during the second half of 2022, during the PROOF and Face the Sun/SECTOR 17 eras. Also, I'm not exactly sure how many chapters this fic will have, but possibly around 10 to 15 (if i can help it). That’s it! Enjoy the reading and let me know what you think!! Tags: @cherrylovescheol, @lovingkoalaface, @whoa-jo, @marihoneywk

Summary: Four years ago, you crossed paths with a charming member of the K-pop group Seventeen during their tour stop in Osaka. The two of you shared three intense, unforgettable days before life took you in different directions. It was painful for both of you, but you knew you couldn’t take things any further and had to say goodbye. Now, back in Seoul for good, you’re in a new relationship with another idol: Jeon Jungkook—whose charm and stability make him everything you thought you wanted. You are very much in love with him, and as your connection deepens, it feels like your life is finally falling into place. That is, until you meet one of your boyfriend’s best friends and are stunned to discover it’s the same man you fell for in Osaka all those years ago. As buried emotions resurface and secrets begin to unravel, you find yourself torn between these two men, caught in a whirlwind of love and conflict, testing the boundaries of loyalty and the choices that could change everything. 

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Your phone buzzed on the dresser as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the strap of your dress for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. You knew it was a message from Jungkook, probably wondering where you were since it was half past nine and you were already late. 

Nice way to make a good first impression, you thought to yourself, staring back at your reflection in the mirror, a mix of excitement and nerves creeping in your chest. 

Jungkook had chosen the dress himself. It was simple yet elegant, a mid red velvet dress—his favorite color on you—with a slight sheen and floral embossed details. The dress has a V-neckline and it’s fitted to the body, creating an elegant and sophisticated fit, perfect for the night. Over the dress, you chose to threw a black leather jacket, which added a cool touch to the look, contrasting with the delicacy of the dress and looking very chic overall. 

You took a step back, after applying a final coat of the deep red shade lipstick, smoothing the fabric of the dress one last time as you studied your reflection in the mirror once more.

If you were being honest with yourself, you had spent more time getting ready than usual, wanting everything to be perfect. 

Tonight marks six months since you and Jungkook started dating, a milestone you both had eagerly awaited. From the moment you met while temporarily working for HYBE as a stylist for BTS’s PTD on Stage first show in Seoul, back in october, you knew it was meant to be. When he started shamelessly flirting while you tried to adjust his clothes, you knew you were a goner. And in the 182 days since he kissed you at 2 a.m. by the Han River, the two of you have been through so much together.

You’ve already done almost everything and anything, absolutely ignoring when everyone said not to rush into things, since you’re both so young. Plans for the far future, matching tattoos, and considering how much time you spent at his place, basically living together. You can name it and find out what you've already done. HYBE already knew about your relationship, and you spent ninety percent of your time together, except when you were both working. He already knew your family and closest friends, and you also knew his mom, dad and brother, his members and most of his friends from school and the industry. 

Well, all except the infamous 97 line. Which basically was your task for tonight. 

You had never met them before, or at least not all of them. However, tonight that would change, as Jungkook had arranged a dinner and drinks to introduce you to them. And from the moment everything was agreed upon, the thought of making a good impression had your stomach in knots. Jungkook was everything to you, and all you wanted was to be perfect for him—to be the woman who would fit seamlessly into his world. 

You really did love him. It was a thought that both comforted and anchored you all day, keeping you steady despite the nervous feeling creeping in your stomach as you finished getting ready. During the time you’ve been together, you've fallen hard for Jungkook, his kindness, his humor, the way he made you feel safe and cherished. He became your world. He’s kind and thoughtful manners, the way he treated you like you were the most important person in his life.

Jungkook had been nothing short of amazing and you loved him deeply. 

But that was not the only thing on your mind tonight. There was something else, something you hadn’t been able to push away no matter how hard you tried. Or rather, someone.

Of course you knew the guys who were part of 97 line—you didn’t live under a rock. For Christ’s sake, you also work for the entertainment industry; it’s basically part of your job to know who they are. And even if they weren’t who they are, Jungkook never stops talking about him specifically. He’s already shown you dozens of photos of the two of them and their adventures during Seoul’s nights.

It had been months since you realized that Mingyu from Osaka was also Jungkook’s Mingyu. 

The worst part, however, was that you hadn’t had the heart to tell him. You knew how angry he would be, how fiercely he loved you, and how much he disliked the idea of sharing anything, especially you; what was his was his only. So, yes, you were terrified of what would happen if he found out. You simply couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not when you loved him so much, and not when what you had together was the best thing that had happened to you since you set foot in Seoul again. 

That’s the only reason you had kept it to yourself this entire time, knowing this moment would come eventually and you would have no way to escape it, only hoping you could get through the night without Mingyu causing any trouble. You knew he was a discreet guy, and it wasn’t like you were going to see each other every single day anyway from now on.  

Your phone buzzed on the dresser one more time, pulling you out of your thoughts. As you have guessed before, it was another text from Jungkook. 

You smiled, the warmth of his words soothing your nerves, if only a little. Jungkook was the reason you were doing this, the reason you face tonight despite the anxiety gnawing at you. And tonight was about him, and you were determined to make it nice and easy. 

So you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you muttered to yourself, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It's just one night.” 

Grabbing your purse, you took one last look in the mirror, and headed out the door. Even though it's not that far from your house, the cab ride to the restaurant felt shorter than you expected, your anticipation growing with each passing minute. 

Earlier in the day, Jungkook had insisted on picking you up, but you refused. You ended up working late—your temporary job as an editorial stylist for Elle Magazine had taken more of your time than expected—and you didn’t want to make him late as well. So, you told him you’d take a taxi and assured him it would be fine. But even so, you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. He'd texted you several times throughout the evening, double-checking that you were okay and reminding you to let him know once you were on your way.

When you arrived, you spotted Jungkook immediately, staging outside the entrance with a wide grin on his face. He looked effortlessly handsome in his dark gray Calvin Klein shirt and dark jeans, his dark hair tousled in that way you loved.

As soon as he sees you getting out of the cab, his entire face lights up. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted you, bunny smile on full display as he pulled you into his arms to a warm hug, nose immediately dragging against the column of your neck, “I missed you.”

“Hi, handsome,” you replied, a teasing smile on your lips, nerves easing slightly with his touch as you melted completely into his embrace. “It's only been eight hours, babe.”

He shrugs. "What can I say? I don’t think I can last much longer without you, babe." Taking his face from the crook of your neck, Jungkook smiles, leaning down to kiss you softly. You sunk into the kiss, his familiar warmth making you feel safe and more at ease. “Happy six months.” 

“Happy six months, baby,” you replied between kisses.

When you finally pulled away, he kept you close, both hands on each side of your hips, an amused smirk pulling up at the corner of his lips. “You look incredible. Can’t wait to take this dress off of you.”

Your arms rested on his shoulders, circling his neck. “Mhmm… you don’t look so bad yourself.” He smelled really nice too, a wood and ocean scent that was distinctly his. “I have a surprise for you underneath this.”

"Don’t do this to me, doll,” he groaned in complaint, his voice almost sounding like a whimper. “I’d ditch those guys for you in a second.”

His lips met your jaw, trailing a path down to your neck. “And I wouldn't complain.”

You heard someone clear their throat, noticing a lady on the sidewalk staring at you with an unfriendly expression. You giggled, finally pulling away but staying close enough for him to drape his arm around your waist.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t wait for you to meet them,” he sounded way too excited, his doe eyes sparkling with joy. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said with a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the lingering jitters.

“They’re going to adore you, I promise,” he said, squeezing your waist reassuringly. 

Jungkook led you into the restaurant, his hand gently resting on the small of your back. The place was cozy and intimate, with soft lighting casting a warm glow over the tables—the exact kind of spot you’d expect idols to gather for this kind of get-together. You could hear the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses as you made your way to the back of the room toward a large table where a group of eight guys were already seated and chatting animatedly. 

As you weaved through the maze of tables, your nerves began creeping back in, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached the table. You forced yourself to focus on Jungkook, on the fact that he was here with you, and that tonight was more about him than anything else. But as your eyes scanned the faces at the table, you couldn't help but search for the one you were dreading most.

“They’re just over here,” Jungkook said, bringing you out of your thoughts as you approached the group. 

And then you saw him.

Heart skipping a beat and breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on the man sitting at the far end of the table, his eyes downcast as he filled his glass with a cabernet liquid. 

The man you never expected to see again in your life.

Kim Mingyu. 

The sight of him was like a punch to the gut, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy. The world around you blurred, your vision narrowing to just him—the man who had occupied your thoughts for so long after Osaka four years ago, the one you had tried and failed to forget.

It felt like slow motion as all eyes turned to you, and Mingyu slowly looked up from his drink, following suit with the rest of the guys.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his. A flicker of recognition crossed his gaze, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly masked his surprise with a neutral expression. Even though you knew he would be there, nothing could have prepared you for the rush of emotions that surged the moment your eyes met.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you breathless and frozen in place. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background, and all you could hear was the rapid beating of your heart.

Mingyu held your gaze, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips. In that moment, a jolt of electricity shot through your body—a mix of fear, guilt, and something else, something you didn’t want to name.

“Everyone,” Jungkook’s voice cut through the haze in your mind, pulling you back to the present. “This is Y/N, the amazing woman I’ve been telling you all about, and the love of my life.”

Jungkook’s tone was joyful and proud as he kissed your cheek. You tore your eyes away from Mingyu, forcing a smile and trying to steady your breathing. Meeting the gazes of the guys around the table, you spoke, your voice steadier than you felt. “Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you all.”

“Babe, this is Yugyeom, Bambam, Chan, Eunwoo, Jaehyun, Seokmin, Minghao… and Mingyu,” Jungkook introduced, oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Mingyu stood up almost immediately, one of his long legs hitting the edge of the table, causing the silverware to rattle. He offered you a polite smile, but you noticed the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes avoided yours as he reached out to shake your hand across the table.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” he said, his voice calm and measured, as though nothing was out of the ordinary, giving nothing away.

Your hand trembled slightly as you shook his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your body that you desperately tried to ignore. Heart racing, you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced a smile, “You too, Mingyu.”

Clenching your teeth, you fought against the shiver that coursed through your body, your nipples hardening despite your will. Memories flooded back in flashes, like a kaleidoscope of moments—the way his fingers felt inside you, on you, touching and caressing, guiding you to most the earth-shattering nights of your life.

Your hands lingered together for just a moment, you mind racing as you tried to gauge his reaction. Was he going to say something? Did he really remember you?

The rest of the introductions faded into a blur. As everyone took their seats, you found yourself sitting directly across from Mingyu, the small proximity only heightened your awareness of him. You could feel his gaze on you, even though he was careful not to let it linger too long. 

Jungkook sat beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh under the table—a gesture that usually made you feel secure. But tonight, it felt like a reminder of the terrible situation you had suddenly found yourself in. 

You now hated yourself for not saying something to Jungkook before tonight. 

Of course, you hadn’t known Jungkook when Mingyu came into your life, but now that you knew both of them, shouldn't you have said something? 

And what would you even say? 

That his best friend had once stirred feelings in you so intense that they haunted you? That you spent years trying to erase the memory of his touch? That all those years ago, it was as if Mingyu hadn’t just claimed your body but your soul? 

A wave of nausea hit you suddenly, and you swallowed hard, trying to push it down.

As the conversation flowed around, you tried to focus on the others, to be present in the moment. You had to keep yourself occupied, or your sanity would begin to fray. And the other boys were more than happy to help you with that. They were very kind, funny and welcoming, and despite your tension, you found yourself slowly warming up to them. 

Jaehyun was charming and amusing; Seokmin was full of energy, making you feel more at ease with his laid-back attitude; Eunwoo was sweet but a little shy; Chan was outgoing and warm-hearted; Yugyeom was bubbly, relentlessly teasing Jungkook throughout dinner, while Bambam was clearly the life of the group—loud, hilarious, and making you laugh with his playful banter and jokes, easing some of the tension you’d been carrying since you arrived. Minghao, on the other hand, was more subdued but quick-witted, throwing in sarcastic comments and showing a genuine interest in you.

They all seemed genuinely happy to meet you, and you found yourself laughing at their stories, trying to relax.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Bambam asked. “We gotta know if you’re doing something cooler than us.” 

You chuckled softly. “Right now I'm between jobs. I mainly work as a tour stylist, but recently I’ve started getting into some editorial work too, for Elle Magazine.�� 

"Oh, so you know Chaeyoung?" Eunwoo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Chaeyoung?" you echoed, unsure.

"Rosé, babe," Jungkook leaned in and whispered.

"Oh, right! Yeah, I was responsible for her outfits in the Elle June issue. We spent the whole day together—she’s really sweet." 

"She's part of our group too," Jungkook explained with a grin, "but you'll meet the girls another day."

"They're a separate event," Jaehyun joked and you laughed. 

“What do you like more? Touring or editorial?” Yugyeom asked, looking genuinely interested.

“Touring, definitely,” you replied, your face lighting up as you spoke about your job. "It’s incredible, and I get to do the other thing I love most—traveling."

“Wow,” Seokmin outed, sounding genuinely impressed. “What do you do when artists go on tour?”

“The months prior to a tour I coordinate the designers and do the talks with brands for custom pieces or partnerships," you began to explain. “During the tour, I oversee the team of dresses who help with costume changes and ensure costumes are functional for performances.”

“She’s so much cooler than you, Jungkook-ah.” Bambam said, pointing at Jungkook, who just shrugged.

“I can't argue with that.” 

“What artists have you worked with?” Chan piped in, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Mostly westerners. Little Mix, Dua Lipa, Ariana Gran—”

“So how did you two meet?” The question came up suddenly from the far end of the table, interrupting what you were saying and making your breath catch.

You shifted your gaze toward Mingyu, who leaned across the table with his eyebrows arched, head resting in the palm of his hand. Curiosity—and something more—sparkled in his eyes. Until that moment, he had been the picture of composure, engaging in conversation easily, his voice smooth and confident as he chatted with Jungkook and the other guys, but never with you.

Right now, however, you could see the tension in his jaw and the way the muscles in his forearm flexed, fingers tightened around his wine glass as he said, “Jungkook’s been pretty quiet about it, keeping us all in suspense.”

You hesitated for a moment, his tone sharp and unsettling, the bluntness of his question throwing you off balance. It was exactly the conversation you'd been avoiding, knowing it could lead to Mingyu prying into things you weren’t ready to share in his presence. 

You glanced at Jungkook, who smiled encouragingly and gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze under the table.

“Well, we actually met when I was working temporarily with BTS during the PTD on Stage shows here in the city," you said, keeping your voice steady, though inside you were bracing yourself. You turned your attention to your boyfriend’s face, forcing yourself not to let Mingyu's presence intimidate you, though it was becoming harder with every passing second. "It was supposed to be just for those shows, but I ended up staying with them until PTD in Las Vegas.”

“HYBE really loved her work, but I think I loved it more than anyone,” Jungkook said with a big smile, his hand gently caressing the inside of your thigh. His eyes met yours, and you exchanged a warm smile. “We got to talk one night after one of the concerts in LA, and…”

“It just felt right,” you concluded, smiling at the man on your left.

“Wow,” Yugyeom said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You couldn’t help but notice how similar his smile was to Jungkook’s—very bunny-like. “That sounds like something out of a drama.”

“Doesn’t it?” Jungkook said rhetorically, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You laughed softly, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “I guess it does. Life has a funny way of writing its own scripts.”

Tonight was the greatest proof of that, you thought, as Mingyu's gaze seared into the left side of your face. 

You stole a glance in his direction, catching him watching you closely. His expression was unreadable, but the tense set of his jaw gave you all the confirmation you needed—his own question had backfired, and this conversation was clearly affecting him, and not in the "I’m-happy-for-my-best-friend" kind of way. 

Then he abruptly turned his attention away when Minghao leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

"She’s got a point," Jungkook said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk as he pointed at Eunwoo. "You’ve probably started enough dramas to know how this plays out, huh?"

The man chuckled. "To be honest, it does sound like fate.”

Jungkook glanced at you with a smile that made your heart flutter even more. But before you could respond to Eunwoo, Mingyu’s voice cut in, accompanied by a wry smirk. “Real cinematic. Almost too good to be true, right?”

“It really was kind of perfect,” Jungkook said, smiling down at you again and completely oblivious to his friend's ironic tone."Fate or not, I’m just glad it happened."

The boys instantly started imitating Jungkook’s voice, making obnoxious noises and exaggerated smooching sounds. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way Mingyu’s words lingered above you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

His eyes remained fixed on you, but he leaned back in his chair, feigning casual interest. “I see. Well, it’s surprising that you didn’t run into us at the concert here in Seoul, too, since we were there. I guess fate decided to keep things interesting.”

Once again, his words were tinged with irony, and though he didn’t directly address it, the implication was clear as the day for you. Your heart raced as you fought to maintain your composure. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Just then, Jaehyun flashed you a warm smile and asked, “So, Y/N, are you from around here?” 

You shook your head. “No, actually. I’m originally from Gwangju, but I lived in the UK for almost my entire life before deciding to move back here.”

“Really?” Jaehyun said, clearly intrigued. “What brought you back?”

“Just felt like the right time,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sometimes you need a change of pace, you know?”

Jaehyun nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s nice to have a fresh start every now and then.”

"How many countries have you visited while working?” Yugyeom asked, taking your focus off Jaehyun. “Must be nice traveling to so many places." 

"Oh, it is. There are so many places that I couldn't name them all at once. The last time I was in Brazil with–”

“Have you ever been to Osaka, Y/N?” Sensing an opening, Mingyu threw the question at you, his eyebrows raised, your name rolling out of his tongue slowly. His smirk didn’t waver as he leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with the kind of knowledge only the two of you shared. “Osaka is really nice.”

You winced at the chill in his words, desperately searching his eyes for the tenderness that once resided in those brown depths. But all you found were dark, empty eyes that swiftly brought back memories of your time together.

Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat, the memory of those three days in Osaka flashing through your mind like a neon sign in the dark. He didn’t mention it—he wouldn’t—but the way he phrased the question made it clear what was hovering between the two of you. You didn’t know what game Mingyu wanted to play tonight, but it was suddenly driving you crazy. 

Everyone at the table turned their eyes to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, since he brought up Osaka out of nowhere. 

It was Bambam who voiced the question. “Osaka? She just said she was in Brazil, and you're stuck in Osaka?” he laughed. “You’ve been to Osaka hundreds of times, bro. Let’s hear about Brazil, please.”

Throughout the rest of the dinner, conversation and laughter filled the air. You tried your best to focus, to be present and engaged, but it didn’t matter how hard you tried, it was difficult to concentrate. Your mind kept drifting back to Mingyu, the tension between you palpable, even though neither of you acknowledged it. The others made you feel at ease, but Mingyu’s presence cast a shadow over your excitement.

And as if his mere presence wasn’t enough to overwhelm you, his smooth gestures and deep, husky laughter stirred memories you were desperately trying to forget.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes burning into you, now and then. Every so often, you would catch Mingyu looking at you, his gaze lingering just a little too long before he looked away. And every time your eyes met across the table, it sent a jolt through your system; your heart skipped a beat again and again, your mind a whirlwind of emotions, a jumbled mess of past and present. You couldn’t believe this was happening—of all the people in the world, Mingyu had to be Jungkook’s best friend.

It was so obvious that you weren’t the only one affected by this. You could see the tension in Mingyu’s shoulders, the way he kept his responses short, his attention drifting elsewhere. He was as shaken by this unexpected reunion as you were, and knowing that only made you feel more unsettled.

You loved Jungkook so much, you reminded yourself over and over. You were with him now, and that was all that mattered.

“Jungkook’s been so happy since you two got together,” Eunwoo leaned in closer, lowering his voice beneath the hum of conversation. His warm gaze focused on you as he whispered, grounding you again. “It’s really nice to see.”

A lump rose in your throat, the warmth of Eunwoo’s words a sharp contrast to the cold tension swirling inside you. Forcing a smile, you replied, “He makes me really happy too. The happiest, actually.”

It was true—you knew that. But right now, it felt like you were trying to convince yourself more than reaffirm it, and you hated yourself for it.

As the night went on, the tension in your chest never eased. It felt like guilt was eating you alive. Maybe you were overreacting—after all, it wasn’t like you had any feelings for Mingyu anyway. Maybe you should have told Jungkook from the start. Maybe he wouldn’t have reacted the way you feared, and everything would have been fine. The two of you would have laughed at the coincidence, and life would have gone on.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

But now it was too late, you thought to yourself—you were already here. You and Mingyu had already spent most of the night pretending you didn’t know each other, as if nothing extraordinary had happened four years ago. There was no way Jungkook wouldn’t find the situation strange.

Did that make you a cheater? You had wrestled with the question through the night, guilt gnawing at you, even if there was no betrayal in the technical sense. 

This wasn’t the kind of thing you could confess without destroying everything. It wasn’t something you could admit even to yourself without breaking. But the memory clung to you, no matter how hard you tried to bury it. And the weight of it was unbearable now, sitting in a room with both of them, feeling like you were betraying Jungkook just by being reminded of a past you could never speak of. 

Not with him, anyway. 

Sitting among your boyfriend's friends in silence, you felt like the worst person in the world. Although the rest of dinner flowed with lighthearted conversation, your heart raced every time Jungkook brought up something about your relationship that could give Mingyu space for interrogation.

And that continued until the conversation suddenly shifted.

“So, Mingyu, you still haven’t spilled the details about what went down between you and Sanghee," Yugyeom said, turning all eyes toward his friend. “Spill, already.” 

"Who’s Sanghee?" Bambam mumbled through a mouthful of rice.

“She’s that friend I set him up with on a blind date about three weeks ago," Yugyeom explained and all of a sudden, it seemed like the whole table had remembered a very important topic to be discussed: Mingyu’s love life. “She’s a dancer for YG.”

You took a long sip of your wine, trying to drown the strange knot tightening in your stomach. A confusing mix of warmth and bittersweet unease creeping through your veins, leaving you momentarily disoriented. 

Jealousy? Seriously? 

The thought hit you like a wave, catching you off guard. You had no reason to feel this way, but the unsettling twinge in your chest was undeniable. You shook your head, trying to push the feeling aside. You didn’t even know him anymore. It wasn’t fair to you or him to be feeling this way. But most of all, it wasn’t fair to Jungkook. Yet the thought of Mingyu being with someone else had every muscle in your body tensing, rejecting the idea completely in a crazy possessive way. 

"Wait, you're dating again?" Jungkook asked, genuinely surprised and you lowered your gaze to your plate, trying to tune out the conversation, even though a part of you wondered what he meant with again. "I had no idea, man. That's good for you!"

Mingyu’s tone was sharp, clearly meant as a jab, as he replied to your boyfriend. "Well, of course you wouldn't know. We’ve barely seen you these past six months."

"But for a good reason, so you're off the hook," Seokmin said with a wink in your and Jungkook’s direction, quickly easing the tension. "Anyway, it's awesome that Mingyu's getting back into dating. Four years is a long time."

You froze, a chill running through you. That couldn't be right. You must've misheard.

Slowly, you lifted your head, just in time to catch Minghao wrapping an arm around Mingyu, as if offering quiet support. "He had to move on eventually, you know."

"Seriously, dude," Eunwoo chimed in, shaking his head. "I’m starting to think that girl you met in Osaka is a figment of your imagination. No way you’d stay hung up for four years over someone you only spent three days with."

Mingyu’s face flushed, and it was obvious he knew you were staring—he avoided your gaze, and for the first time tonight, he was looking everywhere but at you. Still, you couldn’t help but watch him from beneath your lowered lashes, struggling to make sense of your feelings right now.

To your surprise, he glanced your way for just a second before turning his attention back to the guys. 

"Could you all shut up for a moment?" His gaze landed on Jungkook, then Yugyeom. "And no, I'm not dating again. Sanghee was a little annoying, to be honest. She only wanted to talk about things that didn't interest me”

Yugyeom let out an exasperated sigh, throwing his head back. "You’re way too damn picky, man. Seriously, just choose someone and date them already!"

"I'm not picky, I just know what I want." He leaned back in his chair with a casual shrug and turned his gaze to you. You quickly looked away, but he pressed on. "I've already said it: I'm looking for someone I can genuinely connect with. Someone kind-hearted and easy-going."

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like the girl from Osaka."

Mingyu shrugged. "Exactly like her."

You swallowed hard, leaning your head against your boyfriend's shoulder, using him as support to try to erase the thoughts racing through your mind at full speed. 

What the fuck was going on and why was he saying all these things?

"Mingyu met a girl in Osaka, like, five years ago? And he's never shut up about her since," Jungkook whispered, trying to include you in their conversation. "He hardly ever dates anyone because of her, so it’s always a reason to celebrate."

You forced a smile, bringing the glass to your lips as you replied, "She seems like a special girl." 

Jungkook smiled softly at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I bet she is.

The conversation went on and then shifted, turning to the new drama Eunwoo was preparing to film over the summer. When dessert was served, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts and breathe. You slipped quietly out of your chair, walking down the dimly lit hallway outside the restroom, your heart still racing as you closed the door behind you. 

You immediately leaned against the sink, gripping its edge tightly as you stared at your reflection, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you cursed loudly. “Fuck.”

What the hell was going on? Why was Mingyu trying to confuse you with all these things, after everything that happened the morning he left Osaka? What did he stand to gain from this? He was the one who set the boundary, who made it clear that the past needed to stay buried. So why now, of all times, was he stirring it all back up? None of it made sense, and the more you tried to piece it together, the more it felt like the ground was shifting beneath your feet.

You loved Jungkook. You knew that. You were in love with him, with the life you had begun to build together. The perfect bubble you had created around yourselves, one that no one seemed able to burst. You’d spent six months like this—entwined in each other as if your very lives depended on it—and even now, you were still eager to celebrate this milestone by yourselfs the moment you step out of here.

Yet, seeing Mingyu tonight took a toll on you. 

There had always been something about him, something intangible that tugged at your soul in ways you could never fully explain. Now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite remember what it was. It was maddening; the way the memory of him from four years ago slipped through your fingers all night, yet still sent your mind spinning uncontrollably. Deep down, you knew it was the same force that had once made your heart surrender so easily, the same pull that left you defenseless all those years ago.

You splashed water on your face, hoping to wash away your thoughts, trying desperately to clear your mind and come to your senses. But no matter how cold the water was, the anxious feelings remained, stubborn and unshakable.

Drying your face with a towel, you tossed it into the basket and took a deep breath. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to pull yourself together before heading back out there to face the rest of the evening with nothing but a big, stupid smile on your face, doing what you seemed so good at: pretending.

You stayed in the bathroom a few more minutes, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool the flush that had risen as you steadied your breathing. You needed to get back to Jungkook as soon as possible—back to the reality you had chosen, back to celebrating your six-month anniversary together with his friends.

But as soon as you rounded the corner, you almost collided with a solid figure.

“Whoa!” you exclaimed, stumbling back slightly before steadying yourself. “I’m sorry, I—” 

You stopped talking immediately when you looked up and met the one person you least wanted to see right now. Panic coursed through you, and you instinctively dodged, forcing yourself to start walking again without saying a word. 

But you were quickly halted when a hand landed on your forearm. The sudden touch sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of surprise and an unwanted spark of familiarity that you couldn't shake off. It was the faintest brush against your arm, but the sensation lingered, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm. 

How could such a small touch feel so electric? 

You quickly pulled your arm away, but didn’t take a step, frozen in place with him just behind you.

“Y/N,” Mingyu whispered, his voice husky in urgency. “Can we talk?”

Your heart sank. The last thing you wanted was to be cornered right now, especially after everything that had been said at the table just a couple of minutes ago.

Slowly, you turned to face him, heart racing as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm you just by a single touch. In that moment, all the thoughts you had tried to suppress tonight came rushing back, and you found yourself caught between the instinct to flee and the magnetic pull of his presence. 

“I… I really can’t,” you replied, voice firm but slightly wavering.

“Please,” he said, stepping closer, the intensity of his gaze making it hard for you to breathe. “I just need a moment. Just to talk.”

You shook your head no, mind fighting with all the reasons why this was a terrible idea. “Mingyu, it’s not a good time. I’m with Jungkook, and—”

“I know you’re with him,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “But that’s not what this is about. It’s about us.”

“What happened is in the past,” you stated, feeling a rush of frustration. “This won't change just because we ran into each other.”

His expression softened, a mixture of regret and longing. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. We…”

He stopped talking for a moment and for a second, just stood there, his gaze fixed on your face with intensity. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you it was as if he hadn’t really seen you until this moment. His eyes roamed over your face, down to the way the red dress clung to your body, and back up again, like he was memorizing every inch of you, like you was something he couldn’t quite believe was real. 

Your pulse thumped loudly in your ears. The proximity between you was unbearable. He was too close, his scent too familiar, the memories flooding back with every breath taken as if the ones that haunted you through this night weren't enough. 

It had been four years, but suddenly it felt like it had all happened yesterday.

Mingyu stepped closer, so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse thudding wildly as his eyes met yours once again. There was something in his gaze, something raw and unspoken, that made the air between you hum with electricity. He was looking at you like he’d been waiting all night just to get this close, like being in the same room hadn’t been enough until now.

“You…” Mingyu’s voice was rough, almost strained, his eyes never leaving yours. “You look… different.”

“Mingyu…” you started, but your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.

You knew what he meant. It wasn’t about the dress or the fact that your hair had grown long since the last time you had seen each other. He meant something deeper, something you both felt but neither could acknowledge. As you met his gaze, the weight of that understanding settled over you.

“You… look good,” he said, his voice quieter than before, but it still carried the same roughness that sent a shiver down your spine. 

You smiled softly, tilting your head to the side. You wanted to say so many things to him, but all that could come out of your lips was, “Thank you. You look good too.” 

The silence stretched between you, heavy with everything you couldn’t say. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the flicker of hope clouded by the reality of your lives now. 

“Mingyu,” you started, unsure of how to express the conflict inside you. “Listen, I…”

But before you could finish, somebody turned around the corner, interrupting your moment, making you jump slightly. Your heart started racing again, the reality of your situation crashing back down on you. Anticipation clenched in your stomach. You had to get out of here. 

“Minghao. Hi.”

Minghao smiled at both of you immediately, stopping in his tracks, his curious gaze locking onto yours. “Sorry about that,” he said with a chuckle, stepping aside to let you pass. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.” You said, mirroring his smile. “No worries.”

Then you made a move to walk past him, eager to return to the safety of the dinner table, to Jungkook, but Minghao didn’t let you go so easily. His eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just needed to freshen up.” You replied, glancing toward the dining area of the restaurant where you could hear Jungkook’s voice and the others still laughing, still blissfully unaware of the storm that had just brewed in your mind. 

“Are you two okay?” Minghao asked, glancing between you with a raised eyebrow. 

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

He didn't look convinced. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“We’re just catching up,” Mingyu replied, his expression shifting, the vulnerability from moments ago replaced by a guarded look. The casualness in his voice stood in stark contrast to the heaviness that had hung between you seconds earlier. “I had to know if she passed the test to be Jungkookie's girlfriend.”

Mingyu let out a light laugh as he spoke and Minghao nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. There was a curious glint in his eyes, as if he were trying to piece something together. He studied your face intently, his brows furrowing in thought, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“You know,” he started, his voice thoughtful, “you look really familiar. Have we met before?”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat for what it felt like the hundredth time this evening. The way he said it, the way his eyes held yours—it sent a chill down your spine. The distant familiarity in his eyes unsettled you all of a sudden, and you felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

You quickly glanced at Mingyu, then back at Minghao, swallowing hard, the weight of his gaze suddenly becoming too much for you to handle, because you knew exactly where he recognized you from. 

That day at the airport, the very last day, four years ago. The day you had said goodbye to Mingyu, heart in pieces, believing you’d probably never see him ever again. Minghao had been there, along with the other members of Seventeen. Far away, but there. He had probably seen it. He probably knew.

Panic bubbled in your chest, but you fought to keep your expression neutral. You forced a laugh, shaking your head as you carefully replied, "I don’t think so. I think I’d remember."

“You’d be surprised,” Minghao’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if your reaction to his question had only deepened his suspicion. He chuckled softly, but his eyes stayed on yours, sharp with thought. “I’m terrible with names, but faces? I never forget a face.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, but then he tilted his head, studying your face a little bit more. He glanced at Mingyu slightly and there was a beat of silence between the three of you. All of sudden, you felt your pulse quickening again. This night looked like it would be one that would land you in the hospital with the onset of a cardiac arrest. 

“Maybe we’ve crossed paths somewhere,” you said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “But I don’t think we’ve officially met before tonight.”

“Hmm, maybe,” he mused, glancing past you for a second before returning his focus back to your face. There was something knowing in it, something that made you feel sick. This couldn’t be happening. Then Minghao’s expression shifted, as if a light had just switched on in his mind. “Japan! Ha! Have you ever been to Japan?”

“I, uh…” you stammered slightly, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah, I’ve been. For work.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You had met Mingyu during your time off while the singer you worked for was on tour.

He nodded slowly, like he was piecing something together. “Right.” 

Minghao's eyes lingered on yours, and you had the distinct feeling that he was seeing right through your attempt at casual conversation. 

But to your relief, he didn’t press the subject further. Instead, he just shrugged. “Well, I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually,” he said, his tone hinting at something unspoken. He smiled as he stepped aside, gesturing toward the dining room. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Minghao.” You mumble quickly, as he stepped into the men’s restroom after lightly touching Mingyu's shoulder and smiling at his friend. You took a deep breath, eyes meeting Mingyu’s again. “I should go,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I really need to—”

“Wait,” he interrupted you, his tone suddenly serious. “Can we… can we talk later? Somewhere private?”

You hesitated, the conflict within you flaring up again. Minghao's words and gaze had completely thrown you off balance. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” Mingyu said, his voice dropping to a whisper, a plea that struck deep within you. “I just need to see you again. Just to talk.”

“I’ll think about it,” you replied, taking one last look at him before you walked back toward the table. 

Every step felt heavy, your mind racing with thoughts you wished you could push away as you made your way back to Jungkook. Did Minghao know? Was he just playing with you, or had he already connected the dots? Has he really recognized you? Was it possible that he had seen you in the airport with Mingyu? 

You simply couldn’t afford to think about that right now. Not with Jungkook looking so happy, waiting for you at the table, surrounded by his closest friends. For now, you had to push everything aside, pretend like the past hadn’t crashed into your life tonight. 

As you neared the dining area of the restaurant, the sound of laughter greeted you, and for a moment, the weight on your chest lightened. Jungkook spotted you immediately, his face lighting up as he waved you over. 

You observed that boys had spread out. Seokmin, Bambam and Yugyeom were huddled around the karaoke machine, laughing and dancing to the soft ballad playing in the background. Eunwoo, Jaehyun and Chan sat nearby Jungkook, deep in conversation, while there was no sign of Mingyu coming behind you. 

When you reached the table, Jungkook turned fully toward you, flashing that familiar boyish smile, the one that always made your heart swell. It was effortless, the way he could make you feel safe with just a look, as if the entire world faded away and it was only the two of you.

He extended his hands, pulling you close to seat on his lap, his voice soft and affectionate as he murmured, “There you are. I was starting to miss you.”

You genuinely smiled, the sound of his voice grounding you in the presente, exactly where you should be. You had to focus on him. On your six-month anniversary. On the life you had built together, even if ghosts from your past were insisting on creeping back in. 

He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you as close as he could. “You okay?”

The warmth of his embrace and the tenderness in his words wrapped around you like a protective shield, momentarily easing the tension inside you. You melted into his embrace, resting your head against his shoulder and allowing yourself to sink into the comfort he always provided you, grateful for his touch on your skin. “Never been better.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jungkook whispered, his words filled with sincerity as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head. “You make everything better, you know?”

You smiled at him again, though this time it felt fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

“I’m glad too.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

He smiled big. “I love you more.”

You shook your head, tears suddenly welling up, pushing against your resolve. "No," you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought to hold them back. You couldn't tell what it was. Whether it was the events of  tonight that had left you feeling so overwhelmed, or if it was simply because you loved this man with every fiber of your being that it couldn't be possible for there to be a love greater than that. "It’s not possible."

Everything inside you felt tangled—love, guilt, confusion—blurring the lines between what was real and what you were trying to push away.

“Yes, it is,” he said, head tilted to the side as he examined your face, his eyes and voice soft with concern, while you sank deeper into his shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

"Nothing," you whispered, forcing a small smile as you blinked away the tears. "They're tears of happiness, I promise. I'm just happy that we're here and together."

“Babe, this has been the happiest six months of my life.”

Your heart clenched. Six months. It was supposed to feel like a celebration, but all you felt right now was guilt weighing on you.

“Mine too,” you whispered back, mind far from settled.

Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You laughed, despite the sincerity in his voice, burying more of your face in his neck and closing your eyes to inhale the scent you loved—his. “Are you drunk right now, mister?”

“Just a little bit,” he chuckled. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I feel the same way, baby,” you said, hoping the words would steady you. 

He leaned closer, moving your hair away from the back of your neck to leave a trail of kisses there, voice a little rough. “And the way you look in this dress? Absolutely perfect and mesmerizing. I’d say you’re turning heads tonight.”

Your heart raced with joy at his compliment, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not too shabby yourself,” you teased, letting your gaze linger on him. “So handsome,” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your lips. “So hot. It’s no wonder Calvin Klein wants you as their new brand ambassador.”

He chuckled, a low, playful sound that sent a thrill through you. “Careful, babe. If you keep complimenting and kissing me like this, I might have to take you somewhere else.” His tone was flirtatious and tinged with mischief, causing a flutter deep within you at the thought.

You bit your lip, lifting your head from his neck as your hands caressed his face, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw and lip ring. Leaning in closer, you raised an eyebrow, your voice soft and teasing. “Is that a promise?”

“Mhmm…” 

Your faces were inches apart, the warmth of his breath sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. There was electricity in the air, a palpable tension that danced between you, wrapping around you like a silken thread. In that brief moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the rest of the world fading away. 

You swept his hair back, savoring every detail—the curve of his lips, the intensity in his eyes, the magnetic pull of his gaze. The urge to lose yourself in him was always so powerful. With a teasing flick of your tongue, you traced his lips, biting his lip ring, and he parted them willingly. A smile played at your mouth as you pulled back provocatively, but his lips chased yours immediately, hands slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you close. This time, you surrendered to him completely, feeling his smirk press against your mouth as you gave in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, breath catching as his soft lips pressed into yours, stealing the air right from your lungs. As you moved in, your tongue met his in a playful, lingering dance. The warmth of the kiss sparked something deep inside, each gentle caress a silent promise to savor every second together.

Still seated on his lap, your hands pressed to his chest, fingertips grazing over the firm planes beneath, as each languid pull of his lips melted you further .Jungkook’s hands squeezed your hips, urging you even tighter against him. The cool touch of his lip ring sent a thrill through you with every brush, a tantalizing contrast to the heat building between you.

Your hands slid up, fingers lacing behind his neck as your nails grazed his skin, slipping into his hair with a gentle tug. But just as you were close to getting more lost in each other, a piece of bread sailed through the air, smacking Jungkook on the head. You both broke the kiss, turning quickly to see where the unexpected interruption had come from.

Eunwoo, Jaehyun and Chan observed you with amused expressions, joined by the others on the other side of the room.

Crossing his arms over his chest, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he stared at you, Jaehyun said, “Aren’t you two awfully cozy over there?” 

“Seriously, get a room!” Yugyeom shouted across the nearly empty restaurant. 

“And don’t forget we’re still here, please.” Chan spoke, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

The others joined in with laughter, their teasing breaking the intimate bubble you and Jungkook had momentarily created. Your cheeks warmed even more as you buried your face in Jungkook’s shoulder again, caught between embarrassment and amusement.

“Yeah, okay, okay!” Jungkook said, laughing as he pulled back slightly, still holding you on his lap. “Can’t blame us for trying to celebrate our anniversary!”

“Right, right,” Eunwoo said, smirking. “Just don’t do it with us watching, yeah?”

As laughter filled the air, you felt the warmth of Jungkook’s arm around your waist, anchoring you to him amidst the joyful chaos.

But just then, you couldn’t help but let your gaze drift across the table. Drawn by an invisible thread, your eyes locked onto Mingyu’s. He was there again, clearly forcing a laugh as he stared at you. Your heart raced, the laughter around you fading into a distant murmur. Mingyu’s expression was unreadable yet charged, a blend of warmth and something profound swirling between you, and suddenly the light atmosphere seemed to shift again.

“Babe?” Jungkook’s voice pulled you back, concern etched across his features as he noticed your distraction. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on him again, the affection in his eyes steadying you again. And then you lie, feeling like the worst person in the world again. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook pressed, his brow furrowing. ”You're not uncomfortable, are you?”

“No. Really, I’m okay.” you insisted, the words slipping out a little too quickly as your eyes met his. 

Eventually, as the night wore on, your head nestled against Jungkook’s shoulder, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat started to lull you into a sleeping state. He turned to you, a gentle smile on his face. “So, what do you say we call it a night? I think we’ve celebrated enough for one evening.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection.

Jungkook pulled you close, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

If you liked this feel free to let me know with a like, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer! ❤️

★ TAGLIST

[levisjinchuriki]

forever yours

summary: you and gojo have been separated for six months due to his troubles. you try to juggle co-parenting your young son and moving on, but gojo makes it obvious he’s not ready to give you up on your relationship yet

warning: just angst

word count: 2.3k

the separation of you and gojo was hard. you had devoted so much of your life, time and energy to him only to feel like you weren’t a priority. it was a terrible feeling you could push past during the first few years together, but after your wedding and the birth of your son, you started to realize how unfair it was. 

gojo’s job kept him away from home a lot, leaving you to take care of your son, haru. when he did manage to get some time off- things just didn’t feel the same as they once were. he always seemed distracted. 

he still loved you, of course. you were the only woman in his life he had ever truly been in love with. that will never change. and he didn’t realize how much he was slacking until you served him divorce papers one night- looking so defeated. it caught him off guard, and he was surprised that you had taken such a step. 

you were steadfast as gojo tried to convince you out of your decision. and when you didn’t budge he realized how many mistakes he’d made leading up to this moment. he couldn’t blame you, but he also couldn’t force you to take him back. 

he didn’t sign the papers. there’s no way in hell he’d do that. delusional or not, he’d convinced himself you’d be together again and going through the motions of a divorce would just complicate everything. he did reach a compromise with you, though. he was forced to accept the reality that he had lost you as his wife. gojo had enough money to take care of both you and haru so you could focus on raising him without having to work. per your request to live separately, gojo moved into an apartment on the other side of town. 

and when gojo put the last of his belongings in the moving truck haru ran up to him, sobbing as his small body clutched at gojo’s legs. 

“don’t go daddy” haru cried against him. it broke gojo’s heart. not only was he losing you as his wife, but his actions had torn his family apart. haru, the light of his life, was forced to be in the middle of his parent’s separation. it wasn’t fair to him and the guilt ate at gojo everyday.

your son loved his father, and if there was one thing gojo prioritized- it was haru. 

you had to turn away as tears slipped down your cheeks. it was almost too much for you to handle. you tried to stick through your marriage for haru’s sake, but you couldn’t keep up the act anymore. and although you were the one pushing him away, it hurt so much to see satoru leave. but it was the best decision for you, both mentally and emotionally. 

he had moved out six months ago now and still, the house felt all too empty.

—

the sound of Haru’s footsteps echo as he moves from room to room, looking for something to occupy his mind. he's become used to his dad not always being around, but he’s just a boy and he still needs his father in his life. gojo is still present, though only on the weekends when he has most of his free time. you would never completely take either of them away from each other. 

you sit on the couch, staring blankly at the screen in front of you- not sure what you had been watching as you aren’t paying attention. haru had been quiet tonight, spending most of his time drawing or playing alone. he’s almost four, now. he’s bright and everything you need. 

you smile as haru walks into the living room, clutching his favorite stuffed animal and rubbing his eyes. 

“mommy,” he yawns softly, “can i call daddy?”.

even after all these months the question is like a knife to your heart. you’ve tried to protect him from the worst of the separation, but the longing in his eyes is something you can’t ignore. you nod, forcing a smile. “of course, baby”. 

the phone rings a few times before gojo answers. his voice always has a warmth to it that makes you melt every time. 

“hey,” he greets. “is it bedtime?”. haru would talk to his dad every night before bed, a ritual that he tries his hardest not to break, even if he is busy with work. 

“yeah, he wants to speak to you”, you say.

haru’s small hands eagerly hold the phone to his ear, his face lights up at the sound of his father’s voice. “daddy! it’s me!”, he says excitedly. your heart melts at how much he loves his father.

gojo’s tone immediately softens. “hi, sweet boy. how’s my little guy doing?” he coos. gojo cherishes every moment he has with haru. it means so much to him to talk to him every night and make sure he’s okay, even if he isn’t around anymore. 

haru babbles about his day and gojo eagerly listens. he loves it when his son gets excited. 

haru clutches the phone tightly after he finishes, suddenly becoming upset. his small voice trembles slightly at his next sentence. “i miss you, daddy. when are you coming home?”. 

the silence on the other end of the line is heavy. gojo’s breathing is a mixture of sadness and regret. he wishes he could be there with the both of you. 

“i miss you too”. he’s not sure how to answer the little boy’s question. it all depends on you and if you are willing to sort through your issues together or not. he hopes you will decide to, but your relationship hasn’t improved much since he moved out. he’s not even sure if you still wear your ring. 

you can see haru’s eyes welling up with tears as he tries to hold back his emotions. 

“why can’t you come home? i want you here with us.”. he didn’t understand why his father had left in the first place. he’s too young to understand the concept of separation, even though you and gojo have explained it to him before. in his mind, if you both love each other then you should all be living together as one. he can’t grasp that even if you love someone so much, sometimes you have to let them go. 

gojo clears his throat. “i know, precious. things are complicated right now, but i promise i’m working on it”. whether he’s successful or not, gojo intends to try to mend things with you in any way he can.

“i’m coming to pick you up tomorrow and we can spend the whole weekend together. how does that sound?”. he tries to cheer haru up. 

the boy sniffles and wipes his eyes. “okay, daddy. i love you”. 

“i love you too, haru,” gojo says softly. “more than anything”. 

after a few more exchanged words and assurances, haru hands the phone back to you before climbing in your lap. you rub his back comfortingly as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“you still there?”, gojo asks. without needing to mask his tone for his son, you can hear just how defeated he sounds. 

you confirm you’re still on the line. the conversation is short- you and gojo discussing when to meet at the park tomorrow for him to pick up haru. in the last few months you’ve stopped having personal conversations with him- just trying to focus on co-parenting. it was easier for you that way.

you look down at your son and brush his hair from his face. he’s a spitting image of his father- same ghostly white locks and stunning eyes that held all the potential of the world within them. every time you looked at him, it was like seeing a smaller, more innocent version of satoru. and that made it harder to move on.

“daddy loves you very much. we’ll see him soon, okay?”, you assure him with a kiss on the head. 

haru nods against your shoulder, his small frame cuddled up to you. “okay, mommy”.

you hold him tightly, wishing you can offer more than just words of comfort. the house is still big and empty, but you try to fill it with all the love and reassurance you could muster. for haru’s sake, you hope that someday soon, this will all be behind you.

—

haru’s laughter rings out as he chases a butterfly through the empty park, the pure sound filling the air with a sweetness that tugs at your heart. you watch him, torn between the joy of his innocence and the ache of the life you once dreamed of with satoru. the butterfly flutters just out of haru's reach, and he giggles, his happiness a stark contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

the crunch of footsteps on gravel snaps you out of your thoughts, and though you don’t look up, you know who it is. satoru’s presence is unmistakable, a force that commands attention even without a word. he slides onto the bench beside you, close enough that his warmth seeps into your skin without touching you. he watches haru play for a moment before turning his attention to you. 

“i missed you”. his voice is sweet like honey, the words slipping out effortlessly. it’s that natural charm, the way he makes even the simplest phrases sound enchanting, that drew you to him in the first place. 

you turn to face him, finally meeting his gaze. those damn blue eyes–deep and endless like the ocean—have always been your weakness, pulling you in no matter how hard you try to resist. they hold a mix of emotions, swirling with the memories of a past you can’t quite let go of. his eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like time stops, as if the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken feelings hanging in the air.

“what we had was a life full of complications,” you respond, not allowing yourself to get pulled into his trap. “you’re still in that world, satoru. and i can’t be a part of it anymore. haru can’t be a part of it”. 

his jaw tightens as a flicker of determination flashes in his eyes. “just because you’re pushing me away doesn’t mean i’m gonna give up”, his voice is low, laced with a quiet resolve.  “i haven’t given up on us”. the weight of his words hangs between you, thick with emotion, as if he’s daring you to believe him, to see the fight still left in him.

your heart aches at his words. you want to believe him, to let yourself fall back into the warmth of his promises. there is still so much love in your heart for satoru, but love alone isn’t enough to mend the things that had broken you apart. the dangers he faced daily, the secrets he kept hidden away, the growing distance that had slowly stretched between you until it became an uncrossable chasm—it had all become too much. the memories of what you once had clash with the reality of what you've lost, leaving you torn between the past and the painful truth of the present.

“don’t make this harder than it already is.” you plead, feeling your resolve weaken. he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. 

i’m not ready to let you go,” he admits, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “i don’t know if i’ll ever be.”

the confession hangs between you, heavy and unresolved. it would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to let him back in and pretend that everything could be okay again. but you deserve more than that. and deep down, you know the truth. satoru isn’t ready to change, and you aren’t ready to keep living in a world where he could be taken away at any moment. the weight of his unfulfilled promises and the uncertainty of your future press down on you, a reminder of the painful reality you can’t escape.

“haru needs stability,” you say softly, pulling your hand away. “he needs a life that doesn’t revolve around waiting for his father to come home in one piece”. gojo doesn’t miss a beat

“and what about you?” satoru asks, his voice laced with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “what do you need?”

for a moment, silence envelops you both, the weight of the question hanging heavily in the air, unspoken yet profoundly understood. you look at him, at the man who once meant everything to you, and feel the tears well up in your eyes.

you need to move on. it’s been half a year, and you’re still in the same place, still foolishly hoping that satoru will change overnight. still waiting for him to burst through the door, fall to his knees, and apologize for everything that’s gone wrong in your relationship. the reality of your stagnant situation presses down on you, a painful reminder that hope alone isn’t enough to mend the fractures that have grown too deep.

haru’s laughter rings out again, drawing both of your eyes to him as he runs toward you, blissfully unaware of the tension between his parents. satoru stands up as haru reaches him, lifting him into his arms with a grin that makes your heart clench. he showers haru’s chubby cheeks with kisses, telling him how much he’s missed him this week, making haru giggle with delight. Satoru is such a good father, and that only makes everything harder.

“ready to go?” he asks, holding haru close. the boy nods, and satoru tells him to say goodbye to you.

“bye, mommy!” haru waves enthusiastically. you kiss his cheek and tell him you’ll pick him up soon.

“i’ll see you sunday?” satoru confirms, his gaze searching yours.

you nod, unable to trust your voice. with one last wave at haru you watch as they make their way toward his car. as they disappear from view, the weight of what you’re leaving behind settles heavily over you. moving on was never easy, but with satoru, it feels almost impossible.

----

>> ch 2

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading!! everyone is welcome to leave feedback and requests in my inbox!! please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[lemmetreatya]

librarian!eren who knows he’s being sinful every time he watched you come in; his eyes always drawn to the extensive collection of oversized hoodie and biking shorts you wore.

how librarian!eren quickly realises that you’d only come at vacant hours, where the benches are cleared and the library finds itself void of other occupants — bar librarian!eren of course.

or how you occasionally make conversation with librarian!eren because he’s the only one there. even worse, because he’s a night shift worker and they only need one person on staff for ratio (okay but who the fuck keeps a local library open past six?! — it’s not like this was NYPL for people to be coming in at ungodly hours) but alas, there were budding learners, like you, who always seemed to make good of the toxic hours and used them accordingly.

well, on most nights, that was.

as librarian!eren is packing a few of the return books back to their rightful place, he peaks past a pillar and almost drops the 1st edition fantasy book that was over 150 years old.

because no fucking way were you doing what he thinks you were doing.

automatically he feels his dick jump within his boxers and he panics, because librarian!eren still has four hours of his shift to go — theres no way he could get through it bricked up. for the sake of his own sanity, he has to think chaste thoughts; like cute bunnies and purple frogs.

but no matter how many times he looked and tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, he couldn’t deny your hunched over position, cocked leg perched onto the bench and the sound of petty moans mixed with sizzling vibrations.

librarian!eren thinks to himself how on earth he’s going to go about this. ignore it and save your pride? or enforce justice and escort you out. it doesn’t help that he’s warring within himself but after a heated mental debate, he enters the battle field.

“sorry, but that counts as public indecency.”

and you gasp up at eren, startled, because never did you think you’d ever be caught — especially concerning all the other times you’ve gotten away with it. but now you panic because you couldn’t get a criminal offence to your name, not this term!

but despite that, librarian!eren has a different tactic to how he can implore justice.

someway, somehow, you end up with your toes hovering adjacent to your ears as librarian!eren wets his dick inside your squidgy pussy, his smile demonic as he presses your adorable rose bud to the meaty bean of your clit.

it’s disgusting and it’s weird because at some point you’re begging your local librarian to spit in your mouth and for him to make out with you whilst possessing a cum filled mouth, but he complies all the same. at the end of the day the both of you won.

you tell librarian!eren that you enjoyed the time and would definitely do it again, but apparently you had a thing against the familiarity of second times. either way, librarian!eren doesn’t care. he’s more than happy to go back to doing his work.

librarian!eren can’t believe what’s transpired tonight, but either way, he knows it wasn’t no scenario any book could make up.

[tayraedoll]

Radio Daddy

My entry for @6esiree contest! I hope you enjoy this little story!

18+ MDNI

This is my take on what the dynamic between Alastor and a Gen Z radio host would be like. A little bit of rivalry, a little bit of sexual tension, and a lot of attitude.

Word count: 2979

TW: Smut, P in V Intercourse, Oral (male receiving), Rough s3x, soul deals, swearing, Alastor is a bit mean, but reader likes it

"...and that is why Hell would be better off as a matriarchy", you spoke into your mic. It had been a long four hours of broadcasting, you were exhausted and definitely looking forward to dinner by this point. But you also loved the studio, the freedom of creating your own show and speaking your mind, and the power to sway the masses that listened.

"Don't forget- I will be DJing at the Hazbin Hotel Grand Re-Opening tomorrow night! It's sure to be lit so stop by and have a drink with me. Until next time, stay gucci my friends!"

You signed off and leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes and taking a moment to relax. The tranquility didn't last long however, before you had a chance to take a breath you heard the telltale radio static of your boss- Alastor The Radio Demon. You sigh before opening your eyes and turning to the futon in the corner of your recording studio.

You arrived in hell 2.5 years ago after unfortunately overdosing when someone spiked your drink at a gig. When you learned that Hell only had one radio station you set out to create your own; everyone called you crazy, that the radio was the domain of the infamous Radio Demon. But at that time he had been missing for 5 years, his radio show nothing but static whispering memories of the past. So you brushed everyone off and made your own show anyways. It was an instant hit, your fan base expanded rapidly as sinners were eager to listen to a new voice in Hell's media scene. You had found your niche, your place in the despondent plane called Hell.

For two years you were the queen of radio, but you unfortunately sat atop a borrowed throne. Six months ago you were broadcasting like any other day when, after signing off, you had found yourself locked inside your own studio as the shadows of the room crawled over you. Alastor had offered you a choice- either you sign a soul contract with him and continue your show under his administration, or you cease broadcasting for the rest of your afterlife. You suppose you should count your lucky stars that he didn't just kill you, you were technically a rival after all and you had heard how he dealt with others who challenged him. His reason for letting you live was just one of the many mysteries of The Radio Demon.

Said demon now sat on your futon, back ramrod straight and legs neatly crossed and tucked underneath him. His fingers were interlaced in his lap as he smiled radiantly at you.

"Evening my little doll! Riveting performance as always! Although, I do have one note. You recall a discussion we had earlier about not using profane language while on air yes?", his smile tightened, his eyes hardening ever so slightly in annoyance.

You rest your chin in your palm and give him the most bored expression you could muster,"No one gives a shit if I swear Alastor. We are in Hell, or have you forgotten?"

Everyone else was scared shitless of this man, but he made your heart rate spike for an entirely different reason than he did for most others. Your boss was fucking HOT. You regularly pleasured yourself as you listened to his own radio show he revived upon his return, your thighs automatically clenched together at the sound of his voice. So, in retribution for him being so damn attractive, you behaved like the biggest brat. It was a victorious day if you could make his ears twitch, an almost imperceptible movement of his fluff that would be easily missed if you weren't looking so hard for it.

Your sassy remark earned you the little ear flick you were going for which made you smirk, your Overlord employer narrowing his eyes at you in warning. "I really wouldn't start with that smart mouth if I were you Darling. Need I remind you that I own your little show? Therefore, you will abide by my rules- no more profanity. This is the end of the discussion." His tone left no room for argument; as much as you liked pushing his buttons, you were not stupid and knew when to quit while you were ahead...or alive that is. You let the argument go with a scoff and a mumbled "Fine".

Alastor beamed back at you once again, his voice returning to its normal, chipper tone, "Splendid! Now on to business- I would like to hear what you have prepared for the hotel's ceremony tomorrow. This event means quite a lot to our dear Princess Morningstar and I will not let her down." You caught the underlying threat, really it was you who carried the burden of making sure you upheld his image. Your job was not just to entertain the hotel guests, but to make The Radio Demon look good as well.

Luckily for you, Charlie was huge fan of your show. She would regularly call in to talk to you about your chosen discussion topic of the day and put in song requests. Really you had known Charlie for longer than Alastor had, you knew exactly what she liked and were more than prepared to cater your services for her party. Your smile sweetened again as you logged into your playlist for the Grand Re-Opening Ceremony, "I was going for a persevering and uplifting kinda vibe, concentrating on songs that will give girl-power and fuck-the-system. Charlie is a Swiftie, so I made sure to add several of her greatest hits to the line-up like 'Shake it Off' and 'Look What You Made Me Do'." You turn your laptop around so your boss could look at the playlist you made, only to be met with him giving you a "are you dumb?" look.

"There is absolutely no way you will be bringing that ridiculous contraption into my hotel Darling", he pointed to your computer with revulsion written clearly on his face as if the laptop personally wronged him.

You bark a short, incredulous laugh, "Alastor, if I can't bring my equipment into the hotel then how exactly am I supposed to do my job?" You cross your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair, waiting for him to explain his absurd rules that will only hinder your ability to make him proud.

"VoxTek cannot be trusted and is not allowed in the hotel- particularly by my very own employees! No no no no, I will provide you with everything you will need to provide top-notch entertainment to our esteemed guests", he snapped his fingers and a retro-looking record player and several record albums appeared beside your desk.

You became more and more exasperated as you rifled through the collection before you, "There isn't even anything from the last 50 years in here! As far as I'm aware, this isn't a "Roaring 20's"-themed party. If the goal is to make a good impression and get more sinners to stay at the hotel then we need to offer more than just old jazz tunes!"

The Radio Demon clutched at his chest in offense to your comment, "My Doll, no one partied harder than we did in the 20's. Jazz and speakeasies were truly the pinnacle of entertainment. I assure you that if you stick to my plan all will go just swimmingly." His voice hardened again at the end of his speech, warning you to just follow along. But you wouldn't, not when you knew you were right.

"And how many sinners from the NINETEEN-20's will be there exactly?!", your voice rose in volume with each word,"Face it, Alastor, most of the sinners there will be from more recent times. Therefore, we need to play music that ISN'T 100 years old!" You got up and started pacing your studio, completely oblivious to the growing radio static filtering off the man in red or how his antlers were starting to grow more tines. "Honestly, it's like you don't even try to connect to your audience anymore. I don't understand your complete aversion to modern technology, if you don't learn to adapt your are going to be left behind-", you stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, staring at the wall as the epiphany hit you like a ton of bricks. Your back was turned to the now irate Overlord, his claws dug into the leather of your futon to stop himself from launching at you. "That's why I'm here", you whispered, "You didn't kill me, you made me sign a soul deal so you could use me to bridge the gap between you and the younger audiences of hell. The younger generations find your show BORING."

You whip around with a triumphant smile on your face, ecstatic that you figured out the clever demon's ploy. Your face paled and the smile quickly disappeared when you took in the state of The Radio Demon. His normal crab-claw antlers now more closely resembled an elk's spread, the sclera of his eyes were jet black. The ever-present smile still adorned his face, but it now resembled a malicious grin akin to one you'd associate with The Joker. He rumbled out a low, dangerously dark chuckle that had the hair along your arms raising in goosebumps.

"Oh my Doll, you really should have learned when to quit running your mouth", he stood up and had you backed into the wall in three strides flat. "I should kill you for your insubordination, if you were anyone else you would be a mangled mess of blood and bone where you stand", his eyes bore down on you. Your heart hammered away in your chest as he lifted one hand to your face but you refused to flinch away from him, if this was how you died a second death then you would not give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. Instead of dealing you a death blow, however, he gently dragged a claw from your temple to your chin. "Luckily for you, Princess Charlie would never forgive me if you were hurt by my hands. That... and I admit that I have grown quite fond of you myself. But-", his claw dug into the point where your chin and throat met just behind your jawbone, "-there must still be punishment. What kind of Overlord would I be if I let my possessions speak to me in such a disrespectful manner?"

You opened your mouth to plead your case but were quickly shot down, "Careful Doll. I enjoy you, but be careful. In fact, perhaps it is best if you do not speak at all", he chuckled again before summoning your soul chain in his hands. The bright, radioactive green glow of the chain blinded you momentarily and before you could process what was happening you were yanked to the other side of the room. When your eyes finally focused again you were on your knees with Alastor sat on the edge of the futon in front of you.

"Now Darling, how about you show me if that smart mouth of yours is good for something other than backtalk?", he pulled the chain again and your face came just inches from his crotch. You looked up at him with wide eyes, was he really asking you to do what you thought he was asking you to do? The way his eyes narrowed and his grin widened told you that yes- he wanted you to do exactly what you were thinking.

Well, you know what they say- what The Radio Demon wants, the Radio Demon gets. With a newfound determination you steeled your resolve and ran your fingers up his thighs to his belt. Without ever breaking eye contact with him you slowly unbuckled and removed the belt before opening his trousers. His cock was only half-hard under his briefs, running a finger up the length of it made it twitch deliciously and you smirked again before you freed his length from its fabric prison.

Even at only half-mast he was of impressive length and girth, no doubt you would struggle to take all of him once he was fully hard. Your mouth watered at the thought, you glanced back up at his face and noticed how his jaw was clenched in anticipation, eyes half-lidded at he stared at your mouth.

His expression was all the confirmation you needed before you leaned forward and licked up the length of his shaft from tip to base, nose brushing against the red curls of his pubic bone. Alastor gasped sharply above you, one hand wringing your hair around it as the other hand held your leash taut.

You teased his lower head with your tongue, swirling around it tantalizingly slowly. Gently parting your lips, you take just the mushroomed part into your mouth and give a gentle suck before teasing with your tongue again. You repeat this process a few times until his cock stands at full attention. After the third suck, he lets out a growl uses his hand in your hair to force you down further on his cock, clearly tired of the teasing. A small gag escaped your throat before you forced it to relax to accommodate the sudden intrusion. With a moan you slowly pushed forward until you felt him bottom out at the back of your throat.

"That's it Doll, such a good girl", Alastor gritted out through his teeth, holding your head there for a moment. You slowly started to bob your head, lips wrapped tightly around his shaft giving a popping sound every time they passed his engorged tip. Your tongue ran along the vein on the underside of his length, the skin velvety and warm.

After several long, slow passes, the deer demon gripped your head again to still your bobbing movements with your nose buried in his curls. Without a warning, he harshly pulled back and thrusted forward again, burying himself as deep down your esophagus as he could go. You sputtered, gagging sharply and tears instantly forming in your eyes. Your hands came up to push against his thighs but the chain on your neck quickly pulled tight again to keep you from moving a centimeter off his cock.

"Nuh-uh-uh Dear, it's time you learn your lesson for talking back to your master", he pulled back again just to thrust back into your mouth with brutal force. True to his word, he set a punishing pace. You struggled to breath between his continuous assault on your throat and the saliva that pooled in your mouth, dripping down your chin in thick spouts. Tears clouded your vision, all you could do was sit there and take his punishment and try not to pass out from lack of air. Every breath you managed to take came in through a gasp and left through a gag.

"My, my Doll. What pretty noises you make, so much better than the sassy remarks you usually give me. Perhaps you deserve a reward for taking your punishment without complaint."

You were suddenly pushed back off his cock, your lungs taking full advantage of the reprieve by gulping in as much air as they could. Clawed hands gripped your elbows as strong arms picked you up from the floor, your knees hit the futon cushion as your forearms landed on the back of the frame. A sudden breeze alerted you that your skirt was hiked up over your hips and your heard fabric ripping as your panties were torn from your core.

Alastor held your hips in a bruising grip and he thrusted into you, filling you to the hilt in the first go. A strangled moan left your raw throat, hands clenching onto the back of the couch. You were given minimal time to get used to the full feeling before Alastor resumed his brutal pace from before.

"I'll tell you what my dear, I'll make you a deal. I will provide you with a more modern record player and the vinyls for all those songs you wanted to play tomorrow as I still will not allow VoxTek technology in the hotel," you were honestly only partially listening as his tip was hitting your g-spot with every word. "In exchange, your body is mine to use as I see fit. Does that sound fair Doll?"

A lewd moan escaped you as he continued to drag his length through your walls, "Fuck Alastor-"

He stopped his movements just as you were reaching your peak making you whine in displeasure "I asked you a question- do we have a deal? You will not cum until you've answered me."

"Yes, Alastor! It's a deal. Please, please, please make me cum!", you cried out, you were so desperate for release you would have agreed to anything he asked.

"Hmm, I quite like you begging Doll. I quite like punishing you as well- I do hope you continue to behave like a brat, just to give me an excuse", he resumed his pace and before you knew it you were pushed over the edge, clenching hard around him. Alastor's own release soon followed as he spilled into you with a groan.

You knelt there on the futon, catching your breath as he pulled out and redressed himself. Once he was neatly tucked away again he walked around the couch to your face. His index finger lifted your chin so you were looking up at him, "I will see you tomorrow my doll, do not be late."

With that he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you reeling from what just happened. After a few minutes of processing the unexpected turn of events the smirk returned to your face.

"I wonder what would happened if I was just 5 minutes late?"

[mapiforpresident]

Can you please do an Alexia x reader x child? Maybe its the child's first day of preschool or something? Thank you!!!

Off to Preschool

Alexia x reader x child

Summary: Its your sons first day of Preschool and your wife is not handling it very well.

~~~

You and Alexia had been married for six years now. You had met when you transferred to Barcelona, and she immediately fell in love with you. She had proposed to you on a vacation to Greece four years ago. You didn't think it was possible, especially when she is grumpy, but you continue to fall more in love with her with each passing day. Three years ago, you expanded your family when you welcomed your baby boy Leo. He is the best son you could ask for, and you love seeing Alexia be a mother. Leo is a mini Alexia in almost every way, and when you don't find it frustrating, it is incredibly adorable.

You had found out you were pregnant with your second child three months ago. Leo was very excited to be a big brother, and you and Ale were very excited to expand your family.

It was today, though, that Leo would officially start preschool. You wanted him fully in preschool when you get into your later months of pregnancy and when you first had the baby. Alexia agreed with the idea but was also a nervous wreck. Normally, you took Leo with you to practice, and one of you or a teammate would watch him, but with having another baby, you figured it was time to start him in a school with a regular environment. This would be Leo's first time not being with his parents, Alexia's mom and sister, or close friends. He had grown up constantly surrounded by friends and family, so Alexia was nervous for him to be away from them without anyone familiar for the first time.

You and Alexia had toured this preschool and decided it was the best one for your energetic son. It had a large outdoor playground and many hands-on learning activities. Leo was very excited after his visit and learning about all the things he was going to get to do.

You had to leave in an hour to drop him off. You decided today was going to be his first day because you and Alexia both had a rare day off in case anything came up, and you needed to go get him.

Leo was currently sitting on the couch eating a bowl of fruit and watching his favorite cartoon, practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

You stood in Alexia's arms in the kitchen as she voiced all her concerns like the overprotective mom she is.

"What if he gets hurt, or sick, or needs another set of clothes? Oh god, what if another kid is mean to him? What if he has an accident? He has only been potty trained a couple of weeks. What if he can't nap, and it throws his schedule off? What if he..." Alexia looked very stressed as she ranted, her arms practically clinging to you. Your presence was the only thing keeping her from fully panicking at this point.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's ok, amor. Breathe for me, please." You told her as you tried to calm her down a little. You watched as she took a deep breath and then held her face in your hands, moving her so she was looking directly into your eyes.

"Everything will be ok, amor. Leo is a very smart kid; he knows how to advocate for himself, and if anything happens, they will call us immediately. It is only a ten-minute drive, and we can go pick him up." She nods, feeling a little more reassured, especially by how confident you sounded that he would be ok. Alexia looked over to her son and saw how excited he looked and remembered how for the past couple of days all he could talk about was how he wanted to go to preschool.

Feeling the gazes of his mamas, Leo turned around on the couch, kneeling and leaning over the back. "Mama, Leo go to school now," Leo asked in his adorable little voice.

"Soon, bebé. Why don't you run upstairs and get your Spiderman backpack so we can make sure you have everything you need," Ale replied as Leo jumped off the couch. He brought his now empty bowl and used the stool you had in the kitchen for him to put his bowl in the sink. You ruffled his hair as he raced passed the two of you upstairs after saying, "ok, I be wight back." You were still working on his pronunciation of the letter "r."

"See, amor, he is going to be just fine. Why don't we have a relaxing day while he is gone? We can go to that cafe that is a block over from the preschool that we have been wanting to try, and then we can go for a nice walk. There are a couple of stores I need to go to. Leo needs some new pants because he is getting so tall, and we still need to buy a double stroller for when the baby comes," you said to her as you pecked her lips.

"That sounds good, amor. We will be right by the preschool in case anything happens, and I can spend a whole day alone with my sexy baby mama. I don't think we have spent a whole day alone since before Leo was born." She leaned down to peck your lips again as you heard Leo race down the stairs with his backpack on.

"I want kiss too, mama."

"Of course, mi bebé," Alexia said to him as she picked him up and placed kisses all over his face. You loved watching them both as they giggled and Leo wriggled in his mother's grasp.

"Mommy, save me, mama attack me," He squealed out as you reached out and took him from Alexia's grasp, joining in the laughter.

"Do you want to wear your Batman or Superman shoes today?" You asked him as you set him down and checked that everything was in his backpack.

"Superman," He yelled as he raced off to put his Velcro shoes on.

"On the other feet, mi amor," Alexia called after him as she went to help him.

You grabbed his backpack off the counter and went to get him a sweatshirt, knowing it was a little chilly today, even though he most likely would refuse to put it on.

"Ready to go?" you asked him after you had put on your own shoes. He nodded his head enthusiastically as you opened the door heading towards the car.

Alexia lifted him into his car seat. "Leo try, mama." Leo told her, attempting to buckle himself in. Ale chuckled as he somehow got it twisted around his arm, helping him start over before he finally buckled himself with a triumphant grin as he said, "Leo big boy."

"You are, baby," You replied from the front seat.

~~~

About an hour later, you and Ale were sat in the cafe you had talked about earlier, you thoroughly enjoying your kid-free meal and coffee, relishing in the calm atmosphere and having one-on-one time with your wife. Ale, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck, biting her nails and checking her phone every two seconds to make sure she somehow didn't miss a call from the preschool.

"Amor... amor..... amorrrrrrrrrr," you said to her. She finally glanced up at you, seeing the small smile on your face.

"What?" she asked as she asked confused why you were smiling and staring at her.

"He is ok, mi vida. He is probably having the time of his life doing a science experiment or kicking a football on the playground."

"I know, I know, I just can't help but worry. He is my baby boy, and I can't stand the thought of something happening to him."

"How about after we pick him up, we take him for ice cream at the park? We can even invite Mapi and Ingrid. I haven't seen baby Hugo in a few days. Maybe he'll take his first steps today; Ingrid said he was really close."

"That's a good idea, amor. I will text Mapi right now. Leo will like that too; they have the chocolate ice cream that he likes."

The two of you finished your coffees and pastries, enjoying your time together and laughing at memories you have shared like your first date and your very awkward first kiss.

You were incredibly grateful for the love you and Alexia shared and how much you balanced each other out. You both couldn't believe how amazing your little family is. You loved Leo so much and were excited to see him become a big brother.

[cinnamostar]

seven dates to fall in love

part two. part three. part four. part five. part six coming soon.

pairing : hyunjin x gn!reader

summary : after a two year long unspoken hatred, hyunjin and you are forced to be costars in a romantic series, but when it comes to filming any of the romance scenes, you both utterly fail and are unable to get through your lines. the director threatens to take your roles away if you two aren't able to get past this within the next week, which spawns the genius idea from both your managers: can you learn to (fake) fall in love in seven dates and save your careers?

wc : 4.3k

cw : actor!au, enemies to lovers ?!, slowburn (?!), cursing, one gorey joke thing, arguing, they;re each other's biggest haters, let me know if i missed anything !!

a/n : this is part one of a possible mini series! not sure how many parts this will be, but let me know what you think <33!! likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated. this is supposed to be an uncomfortable read so i hope i got the vibe down LMAO this is also more to set the scene/story so not much going on in this part...

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Tears rolled down your cheeks as Hyunjin cupped your face, lips trembling as your doe eyes looked into Hyunjin’s. His hands gently rested on your cheek, his palms cool to the touch in contrast to your warm tears. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as his thumb gently caressed your cheek in an attempt to soothe your broken heart, yet his eyes lacked any emotions, no love to be found behind his cold, dark eyes. His body was stiff and uncomfortable, his movements almost robotic as he tried to lean closer to your face, yet all you could do was roll your eyes and sigh, as you braced yourself for what was next.

“Cut!” yelled the director furiously, a frown painted on his face, “This is ridiculous! We are never going to finish filming if you two can’t act out a simple kiss scene with each other.”

Hyunjin and you instantly jumped away from each other, not missing the chance to glare at the other as the director chastised you both.

“You two are amazing actors, that’s why I picked you both for these roles, I’ve seen you both act these kinds of scenes before, but my god, do you two lack chemistry,” ranted the director, his face reddening in frustration, “I get you two don’t like each other, but your entire job is to act like it for a bit. If you guys can’t solve this, then one of you is getting kicked off the project and being replaced.”

The last sentence caused you both to snap your heads towards him, eyes widened in disbelief as you scoffed, “It’s not my fault he doesn’t know how to fucking act properly! He’s the one who is messing up the scenes,” pointing your finger accusingly towards Hyunjin.

Hyunjin crossed his arms defensively, venom lacing his words as he spat with incredulity, “Me? Please, I should be getting paid more for having to pretend to be in love with that face of yours.”

You turned to Hyunjin once more, your hands balling into a fist as you opened your mouth to speak, but you were quickly cut off, “Save it, I don’t have time to listen to your childish arguments anymore. I will give you guys one week to figure this out, and if you are not able to get through this scene, consider it over for one of you,” promptly spoke the director before turning to the crew, “Everyone, go home. We’ll come back in a week from now and hopefully we will have something to work with.”

As everyone began to shuffle off set, you stomped your way to the dressing room, wanting nothing more to get away from Hyunjin at that moment as a rageful fire burned inside of you. You slammed the door open as you slumped in your seat, seething as you remembered Hyunjin’s words and how unlucky you were that he had to be your costar. You sighed as your manager entered right after you, a serious look taking over his features, “Y/N…”

“I know, I know!” you groaned, rubbing your face with your hands out of frustration, “I know a lot rides on this project and I promise I am trying my best to work with him, but he makes it so difficult too!”

Your manager, Chan, gave you a sympathetic look while shaking his head, “Well, you two are going to need to get over your differences somehow. This will look really bad for you if you get kicked off and you will be less likely to get any other roles in the future,” he murmured, “I will… talk to Hyunjin’s manager and see if we can figure something out, okay?”

You removed your hands from your face, your apologetic eyes meeting Chan’s, “I’m sorry, he just really knows how to get under my skin.”

“It’s alright, we’ll work something out. I’m not letting you lose this opportunity,” he promised before stepping out of the room, presumably to meet Hyunjin’s manager.

Sighing once more, you recalled the day you met Hyunjin on the set of another project two years ago. Initially, you both seemed to get along really well with each other and had great chemistry on camera, as you each were playing two side characters that had a small romance flourishing in the film. Yet, somewhere along the line, your relationship with Hyunjin soured out of nowhere, him suddenly being cold with you and making snide remarks every chance he had. It created such an uncomfortable work environment, you almost considered dropping acting altogether, afraid to encounter other similar characters like him. Luckily, Chan had convinced you otherwise, reassuring you he would do everything in his power to avoid any projects with him in it and also insisting your talents would go to waste if you let one guy ruin it all. Besides, you loved acting and you were slowly making your dreams come true. Why would you ever let Hyunjin of all people ruin it for you?

Ever since then, you despised Hyunjin due to his treatment of you and whenever you did have the misfortune of running into him, you did your best to keep it curt and cordial, never lingering around too long. He seemed to be on the same page as you, but the look on his face spoke of every nasty thought he was holding back on, and you hated him for it.

And while Chan did hold up on his end of his promise, it all came crashing down at this latest project. This was an offer neither you or Hyunjin could resist, especially when the writers, producers, and director personally approached both your managers and offered the role to you directly, plopping the opportunity right in your lap. The writers really wanted you both to be the leads, believing you two were perfect for the roles and had even seen that one film project you and Hyunjin did years ago, which unfortunately set their expectations extremely high, which led to the disaster you two are currently in.

It was impossible to say no to them, especially when they went out their way to contact you, and the script was great, it seemed like something you would have so much fun filming it, yet Hyunjin was quick to suck out all the joy from it.

You tried, you really tried to be as professional as possible with Hyunjin, and filming went pretty well the first few days. In fact, it may have gone a little too well that you both left the entire staff speechless after filming an argument scene between the two main characters. So much so, that the director applauded at how real you two were able to portray the scene, even bringing him to tears as he beamed proudly at you two, assuring him that he had made the perfect casting decision. Little did anyone know, you and Hyunjin’s scripted argument was not acting at all, but was a reflection of how you felt about each other. The rageful yelling, the resentful expressions, the improvised insults, and emotions were all entirely real - there was no need for acting when you both loathed one another.

Once it was time to finally start filming the romantic elements, the prospects of this being the next greatest show was squandered instantaneously by the painful awkwardness between you and Hyunjin. And to be honest, it was mostly Hyunjin who was tripping up during these scenes, making anyone who witnessed his weak attempts of being romantic with you cringed due to how much he struggled to even look at you and treat you like a person. Every now and then, you’d find yourself breaking character, but for the most part you were able to get through your lines pretty convincingly. Although, for some reason, Hyunjin was having an incredibly difficult time completing most of his lines and struggled keeping that abhorrent scowl off his face. Yet, even though you had managed to do quite well, you were also being punished by Hyunjin’s ineptitude. 

How on Earth was this supposed to all be resolved in one week? This was a two year long feud that was not simply going to disappear over the course of the week, but you knew both of you were too competitive to let this project go. Somehow, it would just have to work out, but it was a matter of how. As you lost yourself in thought, the door to the room opened once more with a nervous Chan standing at the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows in concern as you examined Chan’s anxious body language, “What happened?”

He gently closed the door behind me, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “So… I talked to the producers and Hyunjin’s manager…”

You nodded your head, encouraging him to continue, “Okay, go on. What did they say?”

“They’re really upset and disappointed, as they had really high expectations and now they've decided that they’ll just replace both of you if next week doesn’t go well.”

“What?!” You jumped from your seat in shock, no longer having the possible safety of remaining on the project to back you up.

“And I don’t think I need to tell you how much worse this will be for both your public images,” Chan spoke nervously, almost as if he was dreading to share the rest of the conversation with you, “So, Changbin and I spoke, and as both your managers, we think you two need to do something to get over this bump.”

Your eyes narrowed as you tried to decode Chan’s words, “Uh huh, which means what exactly…?”

“You’re really not going to like this, I’m really sorry, I tried to think of other solutions, b-”

“Please, Chan, just spit it out already.”

Chan sighed, “Well, Changbin and I think the best way you guys can learn to recreate that kind of romantic chemistry is by, well… going on dates this next week? You know, learn to get used to being romantic with each other so it's easier to act it out on camera.”

Your jaw dropped as your eyes bored into Chan’s as annoyance made its way into your body, “No, absolutely not! I want nothing to do with that man, that sounds like a terrible idea!” you exclaimed, your face contorting into a frown as your voice grew louder.

Chan lifted his hands before him in an attempt to fan the flames of your anger, “Y/N, I know, I know, but this is the best we got for now! Do you have any other better ideas?”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you shook your head, “No, but… That just sounds like a week of pure torture!” you whined, Chan’s face dropping into an apologetic expression.

“Just promise me you will try your best? It’s only for a week, and then all you will have to do is get through the rest of filming.”

“I guess,” you grumbled, turning your back to Chan as you ran your hands through your hair, “Let’s just hope Hyunjin isn’t too much of a pain in the ass.”

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The next day rolled around as you waited outside of your apartment building with a miffed expression on your face, tapping your feet impatiently as you pulled out your phone to check the time. 

7:10pm.

Great, Hyunjin was now ten minutes late to pick you up for your first oh-so practice dates. You felt yourself grow angrier as the minutes passed, your veins burning hot as you contemplated going back inside and calling Chan to yell at him how this idea was never going to work, but before you could, a black car with tinted windows pulled up next to you. The window on the passenger side rolled down, revealing an upset Hyunjin in the driver’s side who called out to you, “Wow, don’t look too happy to see me. Get in.”

This only made your frown deepen as you rolled your eyes, opening the car door to take a seat, “Whatever. Couldn’t even open the car door for me, huh?” you slammed the door shut, crossing your arms as you looked ahead, avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze.

He scoffed while putting the car in drive, “Now why the hell would I do that?”

“Aren’t you supposed to learn how to be all gentlemanly and shit? Isn’t this why we’re doing this?” you snapped, nails digging into your hands as you clenched them in an attempt to hold your anger in.

Hyunjin only shrugged, “Funny you think you deserve that treatment. Just shut up and let's get this over with.”

You held your tongue, resisting the urge to start another quarrel with him in this car ride to whatever restaurant Changbin reserved for you two. It was a 20 minute drive and you refused to waste your breath on some argumentative asshole, and reminded yourself that at the very least you’d be eating something delicious soon enough.The car ride was tense as neither of you dared to speak, especially after Hyunjin turned the music up to hide the deafening silence that hung in the air. As soon as you both arrived at the restaurant, you exited the car in a hurry, desperate for a breath of fresh air and some reprieve from the tension you just sat in. Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin strolled right ahead of you, not making any sort of effort to acknowledge your existence as he marched through the restaurant's front doors as soon as he exited the car, causing you to chase after him just to keep up with his long strides. Truthfully, it felt like Hyunjin was just trying to piss you off, and it was working.

Upon entering the building, you realized Changbin had definitely booked you guys an extremely upscale restaurant, which explains why he was so insistent on making sure you both dress formally. Everyone in here reeked of affluence, and while you and Hyunjin were able to afford these luxuries due to the success of your careers, you still couldn’t help but feel out of place. The other patrons were dressed similarly to you, but there was this extra layer of otherworldly riches radiating off of them. Perhaps it was their mannerism or the snobby, fake, business smiles exchanged amongst them, but something about this place was extremely unsettling.

Hyunjin approached the host with a polite smile, “Reservation for Hwang.”

The host nodded, retrieving two menus before standing in front of both of you, bowing “Mister and Mx. Hwang, please follow me this way.”

Your body physically recoiled with disgust and shock when you heard the host refer to you as Mx. Hwang, wanting to immediately correct him, yet you reminded yourself you were here on a date, so it would be best to try to immerse yourself into the role as much as you can for the sake of your career and the future of this current project. The host led you to your table, which was thankfully located in a more secluded corner of the restaurant, a small candle in the middle of it to help set the romantic mood.

You thank the host as you sat down, graciously taking the menu from his hand with a smile, which dropped into a glower as soon as the host left, “Are you not taking any of this seriously?”

Hyunjin pursed his lips, his eyes scanning the menu in his hand, “You expect me to take you seriously?”

Your jaw dropped, completely flabbergasted at his lack of concern over the situation he put you both in, “What the fuck is your problem?” you growled in a syncopated whisper, trying not to draw any attention to you, “Do you not care about the possibility of both of us losing our roles?”

Hyunjin let out another exasperated sigh, as if you were inconveniencing him, “I am trying to get through his evening with you without wanting to gouge my eyes out,” he dramatically plopped the menu down on the table, “I do care, of course I fucking care.”

“Then can you at least act like it?” you whispered angrily.

“Maybe if you would shut up-”

Before Hyunjin could finish his statement, the waiter came by with an excited and hospitable smile, “Hello, Mister and Mx. Hwang! I hope you both are having a lovely evening. I’ll be your server for the night, can I interest you guys in a bottle of wine before we get started with food?”

You smiled at the server, nodding your head, “Oh, yes, that sounds wonderful. We’ll take whichever one you recommend.”

The server nodded sweetly, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two of you, “Great! I’ll bring out one of the house favorites for you two to try, I’ll be back shortly.”

As soon as the server was out of earshot, you glared down at Hyunjin once more, gripping the menu in hand as your knuckles turned white, “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear you. Do you know what you’re going to order?” you asked, trying to at least make some sort of conversation with him.

Except, Hyunjin just hums a response as his eyes return to the menu, choosing to ignore your question as the chatter of other patrons fills the silence. You let out a heavy exhale, debating on whether you should reach over the table and slap him, play along with him, or continue trying for, once again, the sake of your careers. “Well, I’m going to get the filet mignon. I think it’ll pair nicely with the wine.”

Hyunjin continued to ignore you, now scrolling through his phone which caused your anger to boil up within you as you wondered how on Earth you were going to get through the rest of the night with any sort of progress. “Seriously, Hyunjin? Are you not even going to try?”

He looked up from his phone, an unamused look painting his features, “Please just shut the fuck up. It would make this night a whole lot more bearable if you knew how to keep your mouth shut.”

“Hwang Hyunjin, I swear to f-”

“Alright, here you go,” the waiter returned with a cheery smile, setting down to glass cups while popping open a bottle of wine, “Are you two ready to order?” he beamed as he poured a healthy amount of wine in each of your glasses, and lord knows you need a drink right now.

“Ah, thank you,” you forced a courteous smile, “I’ll take the filet mignon, please.”

“Alright, and what about you, sir?”

“I’ll have the whole grilled snapper, thank you.”

“Perfect, I’ll have those out as soon as they’re ready.”

You felt yourself growing incredibly frustrated as time ticked by, unable to sit still in your seat due to the roaring fury you felt inside of you. You just could not understand why Hyunjin was so hateful towards you, you had no idea what caused him to behave this way with you and you were growing sick of it. Maybe you could confront him about it, but right now, you were way too riled up to even think of having that conversation with him. Your face was stuck in a permanent scowl as Hyunjin wore a blank expression, seemingly not caring about the circumstance you both were in. It floored you that Hyunjin wasn’t taking any of this seriously. He said he cared about the fact he was at risk of losing this role, yet his actions and attitude said otherwise. 

If looks could kill, Hyunjin would’ve been dead ten times over, yet as he looked up to meet your eyes, he returned your gaze with a humorless one, “You know, staring is rude.”

It was taking an exuberant amount of self control for you to hold it together, “I just can’t understand how you’re so relaxed about this. It’s like you want us both to get dropped from this project.”

“Like I said, I do care, but this whole arrangement isn’t so easy to do,” he said sternly, “You’re not even giving me the chance to get comfortable. You can’t just expect me to be able to act like we don’t hate each other. And pressuring me isn’t helping much either, is it?”

You bit the inside of the cheek, recognizing that Hyunjin wasn’t entirely wrong in how he was feeling. “I guess so,” was all you could manage to reply, not willing to give him the satisfaction that he was right. 

Once more, an uncomfortable, tense silence loomed over as you each waited for your food. You decided it was best to deal with this rather than forcing a conversation, perhaps it was best to let Hyunjin take the lead since he was the one struggling with this disaster. Despite the heavy atmosphere, you found your muscles slowly relaxing as time went on as your focus returned to the environment around you, how decadent each detail of the restaurant was and the false laughters of businessmen filled your ears. 

The waiter returned with both your meals in hand, grinning from ear to ear, “Alright, here’s the grilled snapper for you, sir,” he carefully laid the plate in front of Hyunjin before turning to you with a sweet smile, “And here’s the filet mignon for the beautiful Mx. Hwang.”

You noticed Hyunjin trying to hold back a teasing laugh at the waiter’s comment, even going as far to add, “They’re lovely, aren’t they?” But only you could see through the fakeness Hyunjin wore as the waiter politely agreed, causing you to kick Hyunjin hard in the shin from under the table. Hyunjin’s face winced as he thanked the waiter for the food before glaring at you, “What? You want us to act like a couple, but the moment I do something, you have a problem with it?”

You grumbled, annoyance lacing your voice, “Oh, shut up. You were being sarcastic, you asshole.”

“Oh, really? I would say our server didn’t have a clue, I’d say I’m a pretty good actor,” he smirked, picking up his fork and knife, “Let’s just enjoy our food, hm?”

You returned Hyunjin’s smirk with an insincere smile, “You’re right, it’s probably the only good thing that’ll come out this evening.” 

Hyunjin only hummed in agreement, choosing to ignore your comment as he dug into his food, you doing the same as the familiar tense silence enveloped you once more. In all honesty, this felt like it was going nowhere, it felt like this whole project was doomed from the very inception of it and Hyunjin’s stubbornness was only making this more difficult than it needed to be. The idea that you had to put your full trust and the fate of your career in someone else was too much, it was ridiculous, yet here you were, with the man you loathed the most having full control on whether this project would be a success or a blemish on your career. His lack of cooperation filled you with anxiety, yet you knew you had no choice. Patience wasn’t always your strong suit, but Hyunjin never failed to test it and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive this entire week if this was how every meeting was going to be like.

You were half way through your meal when Hyunjin cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts, “So, why did you take the project knowing I was going to be the male lead?”

You snorted at his question, “Could be asking you the same thing.”

“Well, I honestly took the role thinking you wouldn’t do it knowing it was me as the lead,” mumbled Hyunjin.

“Wow,” you stared at him with disbelief in your eyes, “You really thought I’d reject a hand delivered opportunity?” you let out a surprised laugh, “Besides, the script seemed fun. Just didn’t realize you’d be so impossible to work with.”

“I see,” responded Hyunjin as he continued to eat, causing you to raise your eyebrow, fully expecting a witty response from him in return. 

The rest of dinner went on without a word, that being the only exchange throughout the night. While it was not an enjoyable time, you and Hyunjin seemed to have agreed that the silence was far more welcomed than any bickering you two would engage in, preferring the uncomfortable peace over anything else. 

The car ride home went the same, no words other than the loud music that drummed over your incessant thoughts, anxiety crawling throughout you as you began to worry that maybe you were losing out on the biggest role of your career, all thanks to Hyunjin of all people. If this didn’t work out, this would make it impossible for you to find other roles in the industry, as rumors would inevitably spread about how difficult it was to work with you and Hyunjin. You couldn’t trust him one bit, you had no faith in him that he would be able to get over his own differences with you, ones that you still had no idea where they even spawned from. 

As soon as Hyunjin pulled up in front of your apartment, you left his car without a word, not even looking back before making your way up to your unit. You pulled out your phone as you unlocked the front door, stumbling as you dialed Chan’s number.

“Oh, Y/N! How did it go?”

“Chan, this isn’t going to work. We’re fucked.”