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kptssecretsanta · 1 year ago

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Merry Christmas, @dr-lemurr!

Dr-lemurr, it was a pleasure to write this for you. All your prompts were delightful and it was super hard to pick! I hope you have a wonderful festive season, and a wonderful 2024.

TAGS: BigTae, corset, skirt, unrequited feelings, getting together, frotting, blink and you’ll miss it but it is there, handjobs, happy ending, both kinds I guess

*****

Heartbreak In A Short Skirt

“Ah, Big, there you are! Tae needs your body,” Tankhun cried. Big, who had only just opened the door to his rooms, froze just inside the doorway and stared at Khun Nu in disbelief. He had, for a long time now, dreamed that one day he might be lucky enough to hear something similar, but in his secret daydreams, Tankhun was never there.

“Oh my god,” Tae muttered in English. Big tried not to show how much he liked the sound of the phrase, the way Tae’s voice curled around the words before letting them go. “Khun, that is not what I said!”

Tae rose gracefully from the couch and crossed to stand in front of Big, who tried to keep his face respectfully neutral even while he longed to breathe deeply and lose himself in the heady scent of Tae’s perfume.

“I’m sorry about him,” Tae said, rolling his eyes in Tankhun’s direction before smiling at Big as if they were sharing a secret. As if they were the sort of friends who could share a secret. “What he meant to say was - do you remember last month, you came with Kinn and I to that art gallery?”

“Of course, Khun Tae,” Big replied politely. He wouldn’t have phrased it that way - he’d been working that evening, not accompanying them like a friend or guest, but he did remember the gallery. The exhibition hadn’t been to his taste, but he’d enjoyed the evening anyway.

Big always did, when Tae was there.

“Well, I was showing a friend some of the photos I took that night, and they saw you in them - just, you know, hanging around the artworks, it wasn’t - I didn’t take pictures of you - anyway, the thing is, they’re a fashion designer and they’ve got a launch coming up, and they - well, we - thought you would be the most perfect model for their new line.”

“I see,” Big said carefully. He shot Tankhun a look over the top of Tae’s head, in case he had an Opinion(™) about that, but he just looked bored.

“I said I’d ask you, anyway, and of course you can say no if you don’t want to, only you’d be saving their skin if you said yes.” Tae paused and looked up at him; he looked happier than Big had seen him in a long time. Certainly happier than he’d looked since he’d finally shaken Khun Time loose. “They’re a good friend of mine, so I’d consider it a personal favour.”

“Yes?” Big said. It was closer to a question than he’d meant it to be, but Tae didn’t seem to mind.

“I - oh! Yes?” Tae asked, looking at him eagerly. “Yes, for real? Oh, Big, thank you, I owe you such a massive favour! Whatever you want, just let me know.”

Big thought about the favour he’d really like to ask for, and bit his tongue, and smiled politely. And that was how, with a calm and respectful nod, and his true feelings locked tightly away where no one would ever find them, he became a runway model.

***

The show was packed, Big was alarmed to discover, peeking around the curtains that hid the manic, messy, chaotic backstage area. He hastily tugged the curtain back into place and turned to see Tae watching him carefully.

“Are you ok?” Tae asked kindly. “If you have stage fright, you know, you can just look at me. I’ll be in the front row, near the end of the catwalk. Just pretend I’m the only person there. After all, you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No, who could be scared of you, Khun Tae,” Big said nervously. “You’re too kind to be scary.” He didn’t add that fear was so far from how he felt about Tae that it might as well be another country.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you,” Tae said with a smile. Like so many of his smiles, it didn’t quite reach his eyes, but Big thought he looked a little less sad than usual, today. “Ok, off you go and get changed. I have to find my seat. Good luck, and remember, I’ll be the only person out there.” He patted Big on the arm and left; the touch of his hand lingered on Big’s skin as long as the scent of his perfume lingered in the air.

Big changed into his first outfit mechanically. He’d spent a long and frankly boring day at Kamon’s atelier earlier in the week, being fitted for the three outfits he’d be wearing at the show today, and at the time he’d been annoyed at giving up so much of his time for such a seemingly useless cause. Now, though, he was glad of the practice run; his hands shook slightly and the silk belt he was trying to fasten kept slipping loose.

The first walk was the worst. Big had practised everything, but he hadn’t remembered about the noise; the show had loud, thumping music playing at a volume that made it impossible to hear his own thoughts.

Maybe that was for the best though, as the moment he stepped out from behind the curtain, all he could see was Tae. And for all that Tae had told him to look at him and him alone, it didn’t feel right. Big was sure that he would never have suggested it - would never have given Big permission! - if he knew how Big felt when he looked at Tae.

In any case, it certainly wasn’t the cure for stage fright that Tae had thought it would be. Big could feel his heart pounding, far faster than it ought to have been for such a simple walk. As he reached the end of the catwalk and paused, dropping a hip diligently the way Kamon had shown him, the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears finally blocked out the terrible music and Big risked a glance at Tae.

Looking directly at him was a mistake. Tae was the sun, shining brightly as though he were the one under the spotlights, as though he were the one in the bejewelled silk dress that glittered like a galaxy when he moved even the tiniest fraction. Big stared at him, pretty and lovely and everything that he wanted and could never have, and wondered how it could be possible that all the eyes in the room were on Big when Tae was right there.

Tae gave him an encouraging smile, sweet and hopeful, and then gestured discreetly with his chin. Big shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned on his heel. The walk back down the runway felt longer, somehow.

Outfit two was more of the same; Big’s palms sweated a little less and his heart rate dropped out of a worrying range, but otherwise it was loud and awkward and he felt ridiculous in the oversized suit Kamon put him in. (Why, he wanted to ask, did you spend so long measuring me, just to dress me in a shapeless tent? But he bit his lip and did his little walk for them, and pretended Tae’s soft smile meant things it didn’t, just to fortify himself for the walk back.)

It wasn’t until Big was halfway down the catwalk in his third outfit that he realised how he felt. This look, with its miniskirt and long leather boots, and tightly-laced leather corset to match, had been his favourite when trying them on; moving in it was something else altogether. He felt almost drunk on the feeling of power the added height gave him, the way the heels made him change his posture to keep his balance, the way that even the people in the front who had eyed him with disinterest a few moments earlier were now leaning forward in their seats to get a better look.

As he approached the end of the runway, Big prepared to turn one last time. He took one last step, dropped his hip, looked down at Tae and nearly fell on his face. Instead of his encouraging smile, Tae was staring at him with his mouth agape, the corner of his tongue poking out to one side, and his hands were gripping his knees, bunching up the fabric so tightly Big was sure he must be giving himself bruises. Big almost opened his mouth to ask if he was ok, before he remembered that he was currently occupied, and he didn’t think Tae would thank him for fucking up his friend’s important show.

Frowning, Big turned on his heel and headed backstage for the last time. As his head snapped round, he saw Tae standing up and walking away out of the corner of his eye. The sight distracted him and he nearly missed his step, only just catching himself in time to avoid tumbling to the floor.

“Was that ok?” Big asked Kamon the second the curtains cut off the sight of the audience. “I thought - it felt ok, but then Khun Tae left, was something wrong?”

“I don’t think he left because anything was wrong,” Kamon said, in a tone of voice that suggested Big was being very dense. “But why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“Ask me what?” Tae said, behind Big. He spun around on his heel - he was good at that now, he noticed, but then he’d always been a quick study - and found Tae staring at him again, with that same shocked intensity. “You wanted to ask me something?”

“I just wondered if something looked weird,” Big mumbled. “You were staring at me, that’s all. I mean, everyone was, it’s not… it doesn’t matter. It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry, Big,” Tae said quickly. “I, um. This outfit looked even better on the runway than I expected, that’s all.”

“Ah, Tae, I meant to ask you,” Kamon interjected. “I have to check on the rest of the models, but Big mentioned he has to get back to Kinn soon. Could you give him a hand changing out of this outfit? The corset can be tricky to unlace alone, and I don’t want to risk scratching the leather.”

“Oh, I don’t need -” Big started to say, but Tae was already nodding and giving his friend solemn assurances that the corset would be in the best, most careful hands. Big felt a small, warm hand on his wrist, and before he knew it, he was being dragged into another room.

“That,” Tae said quietly, once they were alone, “was amazing. You looked amazing, Big - oh, you still do, of course. You look - I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I just… oh my god.” Tae’s hand was still clasped gently around his wrist; Big hoped he couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating, a frantic rhythm that gave the lie to his cool demeanour.

There were so many things Big wanted to say to him. He settled on part of the truth, if he couldn’t give him the whole thing. “You never make me uncomfortable, Khun Tae,” he said quietly. “I was just worried something was wrong with the outfit, or… I don’t know. I didn’t want to ruin Khun Kamon’s show, I know it’s important to you.”

“It is,” Tae said distractedly. He couldn’t seem to meet Big’s eyes; instead, his gaze hovered over the corset, darting back and forth between the tightly-cinched waist and the top of the leather, where two straps stretched past his collarbones to wrap around his neck. “It’s - thank you, I should say that now, in case Kamon forgets later, it’s so busy in there.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” Big said. He almost stopped there, kept silent still, but the lust in Tae’s gaze was as clear as the best gin and twice as strong, and it made him bolder than he would normally dare to be. “I’d do anything for you, you know.”

That was enough to win back Tae’s attention. His eyes snapped up, meeting Big’s gaze with shock and desire writ clear on his face. “Big?”

“I don’t mean to overstep. I hope that wasn’t too much,” Bug murmured. “But you’re so - so lovely, and I thought you should know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Tae took a step towards him and reached up, sliding a finger across the edge of the corset, tracing the shoreline between leather and skin. “I thought you didn’t notice me at all. You’re so cold, and the way you look at me… I thought I’d never hear you say anything half as nice to me.”

“You really don’t mind? Because there are so many other things I could tell you, I could say how pretty you are, or how kind,” Big said, feeling flush with bravery, as though Tae’s touch was filling him with courage and quelling the part of him that always held himself back. “I could tell you how I’ve seen you for years, and wished I could make things better for you, or how I - mmmph!”

Big’s confession was interrupted, but he didn’t care at all, because Tae was kissing him and it was everything he’d dreamt it would be, and more. He wanted to stop and tell him, but the thought of breaking away, of ending such a magical moment by choice, of voluntarily letting his lips leave Tae’s, was unthinkable.

The decision was made for him by Tae, who pulled back but then immediately came close again and kissed him in the centre of his chest, halfway between the straps that had so entranced him. Looking up at him with eyes blown wide with lust, he traced their path with stuttering fingers, beside the straps, up the side of Big’s neck, along his jaw.

“Can I take this off you?” Tae asked.

Big didn’t trust himself to speak; he nodded roughly and turned around, bracing himself against the wall, and shuddered when he felt Tae step up behind him. With gentle hands on his hips, Tae nudged him into position, and then reached up to unbuckle the strap around his neck, fingers moving achingly slowly. When that fell loose, he untied the laces knotted at the base of his spine. It wasn’t until he exhaled that Big realised he could feel Tae’s breath on the back of his neck, gusting shakily over his skin as nimble fingers loosened the cords cinching him in tight, caging him in Kamon’s leather shell. As Tae freed him, Big felt he was shaking off a second skin, or bursting forth from a cocoon, born anew under Tae’s tender touch.

Big nearly jolted out of his skin again when Tae kissed his back, a hot press of his mouth to the nape of his neck. He worked his way down, kissing along Big’s spine and stroking along his ribs. It wasn’t until he stepped away and turned him around that Big realised what he was doing; kissing down the centre of Big’s torso, his fingers traced up and down the lines the corset’s boning had left on him, light red depressions that stood out starkly on his pale skin.

“You like them?” Big asked, covering Tae’s hand with his own and dragging them together from his nipple down to his waist.

“I do,” Tae whispered, intrigued and sounding almost ashamed of his fascination. “Do they hurt?”

“Not even a little bit,” Big told him. Tae nodded thoughtfully and kissed his chest again.

Cupping Tae’s chin, Big tipped his face up gently and kissed his mouth, savouring the taste of him as much as the eagerness with which he opened up for Big. His desire made him soft and pliable, until it was easy to imagine that he wanted this as much as Big did, that this was more than a convenient if unexpected encounter that he’d forget about as soon as it was done.

With a low, short growl, Big spun them round so Tae was pressed up against the wall, pinned by the weight of Big’s body. He wrapped an arm around Tae’s waist and slid his hand down the small of his back to rest there, just where his spine began to curve away into the swell of plump and perfect cheeks. With their bodies flush, he could feel Tae’s cock, firming up and pressing against his thigh; with his free hand, he tugged up his skirt and then jammed a leg between Tae’s thighs so he was grinding against bare skin.

“Do you want to take these off?” Big asked, hooking a finger into the waistband of Tae’s leather trousers.

Tae shook his head quickly, looping his arms around Big’s neck. “No, no, they take forever to get on and I can’t - I don’t want to wait, I just want - here, let me -” He undid the button on his flies and yanked the zipper down, giving Big just enough room to slip a hand into his pants.

Big curled his fingers around Tae’s cock, his grip gentle at first, but firmer as Tae gasped and ground his hips into the touch. His eyes closed slowly and he tipped his head back, so that Big had the most perfect view imaginable of his pretty face with its gorgeous cheekbones and soft pink lips, glossy and slightly parted.

“Ahh, fuck,” Tae whispered, and then Big felt fingers dig into his shoulders as he clung on to him. “That’s - yes, yeah, yes, that’s it, I - fuck, Big, I can’t believe you want me, you want this. Tell me you do? Tell me you want me?”

Big inhaled sharply; he understood the words, but their meaning felt unbelievable still. “I do, or course I do. I want you so much. I told you already, anything for you. Anything you want.”

Tae’s eyes flew open and he stared up at Big, something deep and charged in his gaze. “Do you - ah! Do you mean that?” he asked, voice catching halfway through when Big ran a thumb over his head.

Big thought of the years spent in Tae’s orbit, shadowing Kinn and feeling like his heart was being torn this way and that with the two of them, both so bright to him, and himself so invisible to them both. He thought of the casual cruelty in Time’s disregard and the looks of unbearable sadness that occasionally flashed on Tae’s face, before he plastered an unconvincing smile over top of them. He thought of the way Tae had lit up when Big agreed to do him a favour, and the naked lust on his face when Big had walked out onto the runway in his now-discarded corset.

“I did,” Big told him. “I do.”

Tae came with a cut-off gasp, slapping a hand across his mouth to muffle his moans as Big jerked him through his orgasm. He wanted to keep talking, to heap on some of the praise he’d been storing up for years, but the set of Tae’s shoulders, the shaking of his frame, suggested it might be too heavy a burden to bear.

“Oh fuck, Big, that was - wow,” Tae murmured a moment later, face still buried in Big’s neck. “Can I… will you tell me what you like?”

“Anything, anything,” Big muttered; if he’d been less turned on he might have been embarrassed of his answer, but he was so far gone already and he thought Tae ought to know how close he was.

Tae bit his lip, then licked one of his palms before running his spit-slick hand up under Big’s skirt. “Oh,” he whispered when he realised Big was wearing nothing underneath. “Oh, were you - the whole time, on the catwalk?”

“Kamon said it would ruin the lines,” Big bit out, wrapping his hand around Tae’s and encouraging him to a faster pace. “I didn’t want to ruin anything with bad lines. I don’t even know what they are - yes, please, that, please! - but I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted you to be pleased with me.””

“Astonishing,” Tae murmured, stroking him faster, hand curling tighter under Big’s grip. “You’re something else, Big.”

“Mm, please,” Big gasped, rocking his hips forwards to try and get a little extra friction. “Please, take pity on me, have mercy…”

“Oh my god,” Tae said in breathless English. “Oh, fuck, you sound so pretty when you whine. Oh, will you let me do this again some time? When we could take it slow? I want to drag it out, see how long I can make you whine before you can’t even speak. Would you like that, Big, darling? Would you let me tease until I’d fucked all the words out of your head?”

Tae’s words killed him, in the best way; the Big who had got dressed up a few moments before was well and truly ended, making space for a whole new person to inhabit his skin. He came silently, the hand wrapped around Tae’s clutching tight as he spilled over their tangled fingers. Tae turned them around one last time so he could slump against the wall when his shaky legs threatened to turn to jelly completely, and then he carded a hand gently through Big’s hair.

“Oh my god,” Big said eventually, echoing Tae. “I didn’t - where did you learn to talk like that, fuck.”

“Did you like it?” Tae asked him, not quite meeting his eyes, but not pulling away either. Big swallowed and nodded, and waited for the warm press of his body to disappear. “Because I… I meant it. If you wanted to do this again… that would be ok.”

Big wished he were better with words, that he could somehow find a way to explain to Tae that the last few minutes of his life had been the most extraordinary thing possible, and that even if he never got to experience Tae’s touch again, he’d die a happy man. The thought that it would be ok to see him again… his heart was beating a quick, angry rhythm in his chest.

“I, uh. I would - that would be ok with me, too.” A thought occurred to him, and Big reached up to stroke Tae’s hair gently, in case he ruined everything and didn’t get another chance. “Do you think,” he asked carefully, trying not to jostle Tae where he was leant against him, “do you think your friend would let us borrow the corset again, another time?”

Whatever else he might have said was lost in the kiss Tae gave him, fierce and hot and perfect, so perfect that Big wondered how he’d survived so long without it.

#dr-lemurr #kptssanta23 #*gifts23 #*fic23

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hot-take-tournament · 1 year ago

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Maybe if the food debate goes forward, add a specification regarding which food is being talked about like with the photo you provided in the last ask? I definitely get where the other anon is coming from, so having that clarification going forward might help with the debate.

yeah, the take itself is pretty general and doesn't talk about any food in particular, but i absolutely understand why it's considered a hot take; i said this already, but just from the way it's phrased it feels like a reaction to the way americans talk about british food online

reminds me of this article from 2019

and yeah, i've experienced this first hand because i've travelled a lot, it's one of the first things people think of when they think of what it would be like to live in the uk

i think part of the reason for this is actually something that can best be described as ingrained patriotism, which is something everyone is a victim of - even me, and even you.

let me explain:

brits and americans - especially on this site - rightfully constantly talk shit about their own countries.

There is so much to hate about living in both places

the governments of both countries are actively doing their best to unravel democracy, incite hatred against minority groups as a way to win votes, undermine trust in the media, and create a system that benefits only the richest members of society. in america, medical debt is the leading cause of personal bankruptcy; britain once had the best public health service on the planet, and the government is now actively trying to dismantle it

... all that being said, the country where you were raised is going to be a part of your identity, because it's the place that made you who you are - you're right to hate america, but you're still an american

so when someone talks shit about aspects of the place where you were raised, like the cuisine or the accent or whatever - even if you also regularly talk shit about it - it still deep down inspires a kind of indignation, and that's where debates like these come from

like, 'i can talk shit because i know it's shit, you can't talk shit because you assume it's shit'

so when i post a picture of a donut sandwich and say 'can you believe what these fat fucks are eating, all american food is dogshit', it sparks that kind of fire and instinctively makes even the least patriotic americans suddenly feel the need to defend their country, because they know what it's actually like to live there, while i'm just stereotyping for a cheap shot

i hope this all makes some kind of sense

#asks #not a poll

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sleepixgstars · 9 months ago

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(unique-ish) Cheap/Easy Date Ideas

as your local broke-ass bitch, i thought i'd present y'all with my personal list of go-to dates when you're low on time, money, energy, or whatever. feel free to add on your own ideas/suggestions!!!

Photography date; go to a park/downtown/place you haven’t been before/somewhere you’ve been a date before to and take pictures of the scenery, each other, yourself, etc. Afterwards, turn the photos into collages/wallpapers/etc. and trade them.

Painting date; get cheap painting supplies from Dollar Tree and paint portraits of each other/the same bob ross tutorial/scenery/etc. and trade pictures at the end.

Spa date; get (cheap) face masks/hair masks/etc. and spend the evening pampering each other/watching movies/chilling.

Hair date; spend a few hours cutting/dying your hair together. That’s it.

Bookstore date; go to a bookstore/library, pick out a book you think they might like and trade. read the books there or take them home, up to you!

Skill-Trade date; teach each other the basics of a skill/trade you know (sewing, baking, jewelry-making, sculpting, tinkering, coding, whittling, etc.)

Donation date; go through your things together and create a pile of give-away stuff to take to a donation shop/thrift store nearby

Thrifting date; go to a thrift store and try and build the most outrageous/cutest/silliest/etc. Outfits you can for each other and then do a mini fashion show in the changing rooms.

Chores date; pick a chore/task that needs to get done and work together to complete it; if you’re more of a competitive couple, pick two similarly difficult/time-consuming tasks and challenge each other to finish first.

Petstore date; go to a pet store, if possible, try and go to one that lets you pet the animals! Spend some time indulging in pet therapy <3

Dream Travel date; sit down and plan your wildest fantasy trip to anywhere in the world; look up flights, places to go see, etc. Set a budget or don’t, it’s up to you!

Writing date; Take turns writing a story, one sentence at a time! paper and pencil or via something like google docs, it doesn't matter - chaos will naturally ensue.

Picnic date; Simple but effective; grab some snacks and some water, a blanket or tablecloth, and some art supplies/books/etc. and find a park or rooftop to spend a few hours at!

Grocery date; go to the grocery store together; challenge each other to stay on a specific budget or find specific items, or just shop as usual and enjoy each others’ company!

Presentation date; make powerpoints about your interests/hot takes/each other/etc. and present them!

Learning date; pick a subject/topic/person/event/etc. and challenge each other to become the Expert on that topic; set a time limit and quiz each other afterwards!

Sewing date; pick a simple sewing project (pillow, pincushion, etc.) and either work together to make one item, or each of you make your own and you trade them!

Language date; pick a language to start learning together and start learning some basic phrases in that language to use with each other

#sorry for loredumping about myself #posts to show my partner #date ideas #couples

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souvenir116 · 11 months ago

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please tell me we're getting charles' pov after max leaves him in that room in chapter 17

oh dear anon... I'm working on the chapter 17 right now, and I don't think I'll add it to the fic but I can give you a little summary if you'd like, that how I think it would happen

Tw for drug abuse, suicidal thoughts and literally attempted suicide; overdose (please, please, please, take care ❤️)

Basically, Charles would be shocked when Max had said "I wish I had died rather loving you." Wouldn't be able to even move or process the words properly, so he would just try to stand on his feet after Max had locked him, leaving him in the room alone, trying to make sense of what had happened while tears would fall down from his face slowly, without his notice.

It's such a devastating way of phrasing 'to regret falling in love with someone', to wish to die instead, the way Max implied, 'it's hard to love you because you're a burden, and I regret is so much that I would give up on my life',

And it of course can trigger Charles in such a state between being heartbroken by his lover, being defined by the same person as a 'traitor, liar', that nothing was 'real' between them according to Max, and the usage of word 'death'-

Charles would repeat the words and focus on the 'I'd rather die' everytime again and again while sitting on his bed slowly, his cry intensifying, turning into sobbing, he wouldn't be able to think straight of anything other than Max.

Not Oscar literally coming to rescue him because he values him, not his family, not what would happen if he'd die in reality, the consequences from Lewis' side. (you'll see what I'm implying here in the next chapter)

His hand would find a way inside his hoodie, to the necklace Max gave him, caressing the blue sphere of it, maybe his eyes would get stuck on the photo of them on the beach together, which he took from Max's bag earlier, remember?

Standing on his nightstand, so he would get up and take it from there, see their happiness on the photo, that how he ruined everything, "what could've been's" even if it was not actually his fault that events turned out to happen like that, but he would feel a huge remorse inside his heart, wanting to fix the 'mess' he created, and as someone said in the comments on Ao3, which I very liked, "Because if he would see Max suffer, he'd rather end his own life than seeing Max in pain."

It wouldn't be hard for him to find the drugs, since he was supposed to meet Daniel formerly about them, and in the heat of the moment of Daniel following them, Max ordering for his men to prepare a room for Charles and only wait for him until he comes back- but his men needing to give sleeping pills to make Charles calmer from his tantrum, etc, etc- Charles' body could've not been searched since he still had both the photo and necklace, so in the peak of his emotions, he wouldn't think straight, but would like to stop the pain.

He wouldn't think for a second time before swallowing the pills (or whatever drug form he would use since I preferred to not specify) but it wouldn't be his first time (which, you'll also see in the next chapter :) )

He wouldn't be able to stop his cry even if he tried to, while giving up on his life nonetheless.

But he would know the consequences and effects, his heartbeat decreasing, his body spasming, sobs and tears coming to an end slowly as the minutes passes, that when his legs would give up on carrying his weight so he would lay down on the bed, on his side, with one hand wrapped around his necklace, tears leaving his green, hurt eyes and sliding down his temple before meeting the sheets, when he would caress their photo with Max beneath his fingertips softly, wishing everything was different, hoping to meet in another life, hoping for Max to be happy after him, to have a happy life just like how Max implied before,

Maybe pressing a kiss to the photo softly before his heartbeat would eventually come close to stopping, body movements slowing and his mind shutting down, that Max and his happiness on their photo would be the only and the last thing he would see and dream of, when he would give up on his fight, his life eventually.

#asks #f1 fic #my fic writing #mind the TW's please #Once I Pull This Trigger Off (You'll Be Begging Me To Stop)

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miywskin · 2 years ago

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high school girl:

how to improve in studies and be your best academic version?

(remembering that these are tips and thoughts that I follow, believe and understand as more effective for me and my school performance).

1. First, understand the importance of your mental, spiritual, and bodily boundaries. Take care, stay in maintenance. Your brain needs, just like your body and soul, to be in good condition, good air, good energy and everything that encompasses the positive. If you feel good, look for ways to leverage what is downgraded in you, look for improvements that will help you in personal matters. The smallest things are necessary. Your comfort with yourself and with the world is extremely important to initiate any planned, effective and correct act.

2. Use and abuse the benefits attributed to you for the study. You have in your hands several forms of learning, know how to choose the one that best fits with your facilities. Several websites, applications, games, movies and series are exposed to your general understanding, ready to be consumed. Like people, who can guide you in your academic progress. Teachers, friends or even family members that you love and, above all, trust, are valid for this. Don't be afraid to question what you don't know.

3. Never refrain from growing. Never assume that what you know is enough, and that it is not necessary to look for new ideals, ways and reasons. We are constantly changing, we change our skin several times, we don't stop modifying and being modified. So don't be presumptuous in believing that there isn't more you can consume, because there is and always will be.

4. This might sound like bullshit, but it really worked for me. Therefore, I suggest the idea of keeping in your life images, videos or anything that makes you feel intellectually disposed. Whether to read a book, study some subject or new language, anyway. When living with the habit of saving with you materials that instigate your brain to perform the practice that appears there, everything seems to become less tedious and unlikely to happen. Therefore, saving study photos, books, people reading and everything that encompasses the world you are about to enter is extremely valid! Live what you want to live, be what you planned and what you plan.

5. Follow the people who will give you a more noticeable intellectual advance. In other words, refrain from observing and hanging out with anyone who wouldn't add to you or add to something, in this case, academically speaking (but this suggestion can be used in any segment of your life).

6. Find the way that works best for you when it comes to studying for exams. Sometimes, we judge ourselves incapable and devoid of intelligence when we study a lot and don't remember the subject in the necessary time. The cause of this is diverse, I can't say exactly why this event occurs so often, as it may arise due to some neurological difficulty/dysfunction, psychological issues that would need to be taken care of and treated with specialists (and I'm not one). However, the strategy of seeking your way of absorbing information is essential. Try to understand if you work better with audios, repetitions of phrases and summaries, essays, videos. Understand your minimum and maximum learning time, do not exceed your limits. Create a routine that suits you, use the pomodoro method and regulate your schedules in order to correspond to the plans defined for certain exams.

I really hope that these few suggestions I have given are of some use. Remember, you can shape them in whatever way is most fulfilling for you. There is no rule.

Thanks for reading this far and sorry for any spelling mistakes, inaccuracies in context or the like. English is not my native language!

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janewaykove · 8 months ago

Note

Hey! Please look into how AI datasets are formed. These programs are only able to function due to large scale intellectual property theft that would be illegal for any other purpose. AI is an amazing concept and we can do lots of great things with it, even (theoretically) with generative AI if someone were to build a dataset ethically with knowledge, consent and compensation of the authors whose works are being used (there aren't any currently, thus theoretically. the reason there aren't any is if you did it, it would no longer be profitable) but please be aware that the currently available generative AIs (not just text btw, visual ones too) exploit writers/artists, especially smaller ones who don't have the means to fight back. The only way we can disincentivize this theft is by ending demand for the product

If you see parts of anything in the AI stories I post(ed) that you think are from someone's story, please do let me know. But as far as I can see, it's just common phrases and generalized things. Aside from the names I put in and the dozen specific prompts (which often included dialogue), basically all that's left is to put it into place and fill in stuff like everyday phrases (ie "she walked down the hallway and turned the corner"). And of course the sex bits that I prompt. If there's suddenly a paragraph in there from Moby Dick, that'd be a bit questionable!

Now if I posted something from some original story/character/world, I could totally see the issue with it being ripped off. But I wouldn't post that. As it is, I have to be specific about a lot of it. I mean, it will know Captain Janeway should be on Voyager. But if I make the character be Kove, it tends not to know who the hell she is and makes her a tall, skinny blonde who works as a waitress. There's only so many ways to write a sex scene so unless someone owns "she reached between her legs and touched herself," or whatever, it's probably not stealing that from anyone, lol!

As for photos, I've seen how those work and don't care for them. I see a lot of images that look just like original images so I know the generator is just taking original images and basing "art" off those. And not even well, I might add (oh those extra fingers it likes to add).

Hope I'm not sounding like an ignorant jerk here. I know a lot of people don't like AI, so I note when I've used a generator. But, as I've said a while back, my brain isn't what it was 25 years ago and some times I just wanna read a weird story with a weird ship. When they come out kinda good (even though they still need tweaking), I share them. What I've seen is general/common stuff in between my specific prompts, otherwise I wouldn't mess with it.

Also, if fanfiction is technically illegal anyway, the only people to be compensated for AI programs using their work would have to be people who write original stories. Those would be easiest to find in AI generators so that'd be a plus, at least. If AI generates stuff based on fandoms, it's harder to figure which is stolen. But if you've got AI talking about Zippooloo Square on the planet Deengu with its 3 purple-pink moons, that'd be an obvious steal. If it's talking about Voyager being in space, that's more general and common knowledge (unless it mentions a quirky addition we know someone else made up just for their own version) that most of the fandom has wrote somewhere or other.

Edit: I'm not saying AI doesn't steal, just to be clear. I read about it stealing works, or people using it to continue an original story. I certainly don't approve of that! But the little stories I do are just AI filler stuff in the specific prompts I give it. So just "he said/she said" and "walked down the street and went into the cafe" stuff. Not chunks of storyline from already written stories.

#ask #anonymous #if this turns into a big hate war #i will remember why i keep anons off #this reply was 2x longer but i rewrote it #then it came out long anyway lol #i hate conflict and it stresses me so much #ms and stress do not mix

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kymmiejournals · 2 years ago

Text

Dusty Pink Undated Digital Planner by Blushing Notes

This post contains affiliate links. If you take action (i.e. make a purchase) after clicking my affiliate links, I’ll probably earn a few bucks which will help keep this website running or just to buy a cup of coffee. You know I only recommend products that I actually use, love and trust, right?

Hey love!

I am so excited to share with you today's #GetPlannerFeatured post! Sophie from Blushing Notes is one of the many sellers who have reached out to me to participate in my little project which I call, Get Planner Featured. Sophie provided all the necessary details for me to start creating these beautiful spreads and I am using the Undated Digital Planner in Dusty Pink which is one of her newest designs.

She really put a lot of effort into making this planner better, by providing a simple, yet elegant and functional digital planner that helps you focus on your productivity and organization. When I received a copy of the planner, I stored it in my iCloud and was able to import it easily as a document in Noteshelf and GoodNotes, the two note-taking apps that I use on my iPad for digital planning.

contents

Cover

Index

Year at a Glance

Daily

Monthly

Weekly

Inspiration Board

2 Goal Planners

Budget

Expense

Income

To-Do

Paper Templates

Back Pocket

Bonus: Color Codes

Where to Buy?

Tools and Resources

Any note-taking app (ex. Goodnotes or Noteshelf, etc.)

iPad 2019 7th Gen (10.2”)

Apple Pencil 1st Gen

Dusty Pink Undated Digital Planner

Cover

This is where you can personalize the cover of your planner with your name or any words or phrases you can think of. You can add a text using your favorite font or write whatever you desire on the planner cover. You can also draw some doodles.

Home or Index

The Home page has hyperlinks to corresponding sections, these are Personal, Financeand Noteslocated in the top part of the planner. On the right side are monthly divider pages. The tabs are clickable and help you to access different categories or months. You can even fully customize the tab by covering it with same color using Pen tool, then add a text or write whatever you want to call the tab.

Year at a Glance

On this page, you can mark important dates or anniversaries and birthdays without having to flip through each month. It's also important for me to track my regular monthly visits. I use the highlighter to color-code significant dates for this year.

Daily

For me, I use this as my Daily Journal to help me focus on the present and think of what I can improve for tomorrow. It also helps me to set my expectations within the day.

Monthly

I enjoy decorating monthly pages because I can track my schedule for the month such as rest days, vacation leaves, my work schedule or if there are bills to pay with due dates and tracking my monthly visitor! (You know this, ladies!)

Weekly

This planner also consists of 1 weekly page for each month where you can duplicate as much as you need. This also helps keep the file smaller for when you download it from the shop.

Inspiration Board

This is located in the Personal tab. You can put your short or long term goals. You can also fully utilize this page to do a mood board for when you decide to change your planner space, design your own room, new recipes to try, mix and match clothes to wear using photos or anything that inspires you.

2 Goal Planner pages

This is located in the Personal tab. The first Goal Planner page has action steps where you can jot down a step by step process on how you plan to achieve your goal. In this example, my goal is to reach my target weight which is 100lbs or 45kg, to do that I have included simple action steps that I need to follow for me to attain my goal.

The second Goal Planner page focuses on your behavior and attitude towards achieving your goal. You can put your struggles or little achievements that made you motivated towards your goal. My inspiration for why I want to reach my goal is to boost my self-confidence and be happy.

kymmie’s magic trick

To give you an idea, you can do financial goal where you can put how much you want to save up, you can also do relationship goals like how to spend time more with your loved ones or ways how to be grateful or anything that you can think of.

Budget

This is located in the Finance tab. On the My Budget page, you can put your recurring bills with a fixed amount, or put your unexpected expenses such as eating out or maintenance. You can also put an overview of your Income and Expenses which you’ll track on the next pages.

Expense Tracker

Here, I list down all the bills and subscriptions I have for the month. I also included the amount and due dates. It helps me prioritize my expenses based on the deadline that was set for each. This is also located in the Finance tab.

Income Tracker

Apart from the Expense Tracker in the Finance tab, you will also find the Income Tracker. You can use this tracker to drill down all your salary, sideline hustle pay, or tip. Once I’m done for the month, I’ll take a screenshot of this, store it to my iCloud and start a clean page for the next month.

To-Do List

This is located in the Notes tab. You can use this to track your daily to-do’s. When you complete a task, you can either check the box or use highlighter to mark the box, or you can highlight the whole task. It’s really up to you!

Paper Templates

These paper templates are very helpful when you just want to start from scratch. It gives you the freedom to fully customize the page. This is also located in Notes tab.

Back Pocket

This is probably the most unique feature I have ever seen in a digital planner. Imagine it like the back of your planner which you can put receipts or letters. You can also treat this as your sticker page where you can paste all your favorite digital stickers or even favorite quotes or mantra.

In this example, I use realistic planner elements to create a stunning back pocket. The shadows help each sticker or element to pop.

Bonus: Color Codes

The planner also consists of color codes that you can use to rename your tabs and keep your writing uniform using the hex codes.

Links

Blushing Notes on Instagram

Blushing Notes on Etsy

Shop at Blushing Notes’ website

Buy the Dusty Pink Undated Digital Planner

Use discount code, KYMMIE15 for 15% off on any Blushing Notes’ products

Notes

This planner has Monday-start pages

Dotted Grid template isn’t included in the paper templates

The Calendar (Year at a Glance and Monthly page) has 5 rows only but you can add a row when you need it

This post is not sponsored nor paid by Blushing Notes, I am only reviewing products that I use and love [know more]

The fonts and graphics used are separate purchases and not included in the planner

feedback

What do you love most about this digital planner?

Any questions or suggestions about this blog post?

Get access to Freebie Library!

#note-taking #productivity #discount

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appalamutte · 2 years ago

Text

Eric’s still deciding whether or not this conversation is even worth entertaining.

“You want me to...stake out a steakhouse?”

“Haha,” Eric’s editor laughs, though Eric doesn’t know what, exactly, he said that was so funny. When he levels Matty with a blank look, Matty clears his throat. “Look, Eric, you’re the only person we got that knows anything about hockey.”

"Sadly.”

“And Zimmermann’s a hockey player.”

“So you do read more than the front page.”

“And he’s been seen—on more than one occasion—at this steakhouse with a special little female counterpart.”

“I want you to kindly never say that phrase ever again.”

Matty sends an exasperated look at Eric. “It’s no secret that Zimmermann doesn’t do dating. We know that, TMZ knows that. Hell, even Deadspin did a piece on Zimmermann’s nonexistent personal life.”

Eric remembers that. He was at Dex and Nursey’s when he read the article because as soon as he walked in, Nursey practically shoved it in his face. This was taken two streets over, Nursey was freaking out about, and as much as Eric hates tabloids, he had to agree that the picture of Jack Zimmermann running through College Hill shirtless and sweating was not unwelcomed.

“So because of that, you want me to invade Mr. Zimmermann’s privacy,” he says.

“It’s not an invasion of privacy if you’re out in public.”

“Oh, okay, you just want me to go sit at this steakhouse after tomorrow night’s game in hopes of getting photos of Mr. Zimmermann being a normal human being socializing with someone who very well could be a friend or, god forbid, a family member, without any of their consent. That’s not at all an invasion of privacy. Duly noted. Should I take that tidbit back to McCarthy so she can add it to her ethics in journalism seminar?”

“Eric,” Matty pleads, “you have to do this. This is groundbreaking.”

“This is paparazzi work. How did you even find out about all this?”

The sheepish look Matty gives tells Eric everything he needs to know. Eric sighs.

“Who’d you buy this off of?”

“Niyah now has a possibly fabricated tip about the new burger place you covered last month failing all their health inspections.”

“Matty, I liked that place!”

“And it’ll still be there tomorrow, you know the health department doesn’t do anything!” Matty exclaims before taking a deep breath. He leans forward on his desk, elbows braced against the wood. “Look, Eric, you know hockey. You know people. You know how to take a good photo. And I know you know that this thing, whatever it is with Zimmermann, isn’t normal and isn’t usual. That’s why we need this.”

“To beat TMZ before they write the exact same thing.”

“Precisely.”

Eric tries really hard not to roll his eyes, and honestly, he isn’t sure how much he succeeds. “My column’s strictly for food. Culture. Restaurant reviews. I may sometimes help cover a Bruins game, but I don’t do this—,” Eric waves his hand around, “—this stalking stuff.”

“It’s not stalking.”

“You know what I mean. If you were asking me to review this steakhouse, I’d be open to the idea. But glamorizing some innocent man’s private dinner based off something Niyah told you—why you still trust her I don’t even know—isn’t why I decided on this job.”

Matty sighs nearly the same way he did when Eric first declined the offer for this position with the paper, like Eric’s ruining his life in four different ways and Eric doing what Matty wants is the only way to fix it. Thinking back, if it weren’t for the pressing reality of rent being due and the small bit of guilt he felt because he knew Matty from The Swallow, Eric would had followed through with that declination. “Eric, you’re one of our best journalists. Your Bitty in Boston special racks up almost as much traffic as the sports page does when the Patriots play.”

“Exactly, meaning my expertise is in food, not imitating People’s magazine.”

“This is food, it’s a steakhouse!”

“In Providence. Why are you even wanting to go to Providence for this?”

“Zimmermann is well known outside of just Providence. My sister is practically in love with him and she’s lived in Baltimore her whole life.”

“Good for her, you’re still not answering my questions.”

“A one time ten percent bonus for this period, and if the article does well, a twenty percent bonus for the holidays.”

Eric halts. That’d be enough money to fly back home for Christmas, and with the second bonus, he’d maybe even be able to afford that stand mixer he’s had his eye on for the last few weeks. “You really want this article that badly, huh. You’re sure Niyah’s tip is valid?”

“I put my hand on the Bible,” Matty solemnly says.

“You’re Jewish.”

“I’m non-practicing, and I know that phrase means something where you’re from.”

“Fine,” Eric says, doing this because the stand mixer really does have exceptional reviews and not because his morals are dwindling in the face of speculative journalism. “I’ll do it, but I’m only staying there an hour tops. I’m not talking to Mr. Zimmermann, I’m not asking any questions, and if anyone catches on to what I’m doing I’m giving them your name.”

Matty practically beams. “We’ll be trending by Monday.”

“And you’re paying for my meal,” Eric says as he walks out.

#just Thinking Things #lady gaga's paparazzi may had been an inspiration for this #omgcp #zimbits #my writing

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan.

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve.

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable.

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is.

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church.

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside.

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?”

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement.

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble.

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised.

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt.

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts.

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless.

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck.

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in.

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres.

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body.

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage.

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe.

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead.

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming.

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class.

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end.

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?”

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading.

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it.

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing.

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.”

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good.

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it.

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm.

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be.

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh.

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent.

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed.

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside.

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil.

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed.

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you.

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you.

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs.

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…”

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#magicshopnet #btswritingcafe #taehyung smut #taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts #bts smut #v smut #v oneshot #v x reader #taehyung #taehyung fluff #bts oneshot #kim taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

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synonymroll648 · 2 years ago

Note

Sokeefitz week prompts: day one is an au

Me: gosh! I'm glad it's so open! Means I can do anything :) :) :) :) :) what au do I pick

(I'm still struggling help)

ooh!!!! hang on hang on hang on i actually gave kay (@/winterfireice) a bunch of au ideas, lemme copy and paste real quick because these are all things that i think would be extra fun.

ok!! gottem below!! broke it up into two sections - misc and soulmate ones because soulmate ones are just. yeah. also the ones listed are supposed to be neutral/geared towards fluff since that's what kay asked for, but, there are some awesome angst ideas out there. if you want me to hit you with some, just tell me >:)

au where keefe lands in the healing center along with sophitz in flashback (this one also automatically combines the healing center prompt so. two birds w/ one stone here!)

coffee shop au because it’s a classic

college/university au (again, a classic; also very versatile)

au where sophie comes to the lost cities at 18 like the black swan planned

circus au (uncommon and underrated)

human au (the most versatile of all)

au where they didn’t have to leave alluveterre (i just think the location was Really Pretty okay-?)

also here’s a ridiculously huge masterlist of au lists in case none of these au ideas are clicking for you :)

here’s a masterlist of soulmate aus, if you need some inspiration. to potentially save you some time, though, these are my favorite ones that are geared towards fluff (or neutral in terms of fluff or angst potential):

herding goose that herds people towards their soulmates

each soulmate has one half of a quote that is important to their relationship (you could either use one phrase split into thirds, two phrases they get half of for their individual relationships within their triad, or both, or something else you think fits better!)

two timers counting down until they meet a soulmate (ex: keefe’s first timer could hit zero when he meets fitz, but still have a second timer going for when he meets sophie)

songs sung by their soulmates is stuck in their head (could be really funny for the boys, since there’s periods of time for both of them where they don’t know english. this hilarity could also apply to the next two prompts)

whatever music that is stuck in their soulmates’ head is stuck in theirs too

there’s a radio in everyone’s heads that they share with their soulmates; the three of them can change the tunes

fold 1k paper cranes/planes/whatever you want -> meet one of their soulmates

red string tied around their pinky is connected to their soulmate’s pinky. invisible to everyone else. the strings shrink and expand depending on the distance between them. most people only get one, these guys get two

throwing something they love on the full moon will land on one of their soulmates

somehow, they get a photo of each of their soulmates each year

soulmates’ first words to them are written somewhere on their skin (you could either have two seperate phrases per person, or, if you want to challenge yourself, have all of them have only one phrase)

if anyone would like to add on with their own au ideas for sokeefitz week, go for it!!!

#ask #sokeefitz week 2022 #tagging that because i figured some people participating will appreciate that popping up in that tag #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fic ideas #gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss

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neowinestainedress · 3 years ago

Text

DYNASTY ⮚ NCT

prev⏐ chapter twenty-five ⏐ next ⏐ masterpost

warnings: none for this chapter

genre: fantasy au, royal au, super powers au

word count: 3.955

summary: The apparent calm that reigns in Neo City breaks into million pieces when some members of the Neos find an outsider laying unconscious in the wood. After that, everything they know stops making sense. Menace from the past come back, while they have to rule on their city knowing that the menace of Simon’s dictatorial power is closer day by day. The past they never dared to face will wash over them like impetuous waves. The present is filled with doubts, regrets and the mystery of the lost memories of the nameless girl. The future is even more uncertain.

Can you break the chain with your past even if it’s running in your bloodstream?

taglist: @saeyeoniee @shwizhies | if you want to be added let me know under the masterpost or with a message

a/n: i was going crazy with the layout of this chapter rip, if you find the photos hard to read pls let me know and i’ll try to change it in a better format. wanted to update friday but i’ve been sick all week so i couldn’t i’m sorry.

“We decoded the password and we found something that you need to see,” Renjun said, he was standing next to the big screen in their laboratory. Chenle was the only one of the dreamers with him, while the others in the room were the thinkers. He wanted to also call Taeyong but Doyoung refused, telling him that he would’ve substituted for him for a while. There was no need to put other pressure on him.

“You already did that?” Ten asked, swinging in his chair.

Chenle nodded. “Yeah. At first, I couldn’t understand, the words didn’t make any sense and, in fact, they weren’t real words. So I thought of flipping the Latin alphabet and comparing them to the right one. Turns out I was right.”

“Why all of that? Isn’t it too easy?”

“Actually no, at the start I tried with different alphabets, and nothing made sense. The Latin one has fewer letters. Also, the phrase is basically a warning for whatever sick thing they had in mind.” Chenle explained.

“What is that?” Doyoung asked, biting the inside of his cheeks.

“Ubi maior, minor cessat.”

“That literally means ‘where there’s the major, the minor decay’, basically in the presence of a more powerful important person, the less important one loses relevance,” Renjun explained instead.

“But weren’t they already in power?” Ten asked, furrowing.

“I don’t think your parents were the biggest problem. Simon is behind all of this,” Renjun explained.

“Can we see the files?” Taeil asked, scratching his chin.

“Yeah, here you go. We have to go, actually, but I think you don’t need us anymore, anyway,” Renjun said, opening the file on the computer.

“Yeah, thank you for everything. We’ll catch up later,” Taeil said, waving as they walked out of the room.

“She was right!” Ten exclaimed after he finished reading the files. “She was fucking right!”

“Who, Ten?” Taeil asked, turning around to have a better view of the man.

“Bambi! I mean Anastasia, fuck it we can just call her like this right?” He mumbled as he moved his hands frenetically in front of him.

“You were the only one not believing this,” Taeil remembered him, raising a brow.

“No,” the pierced guy said, sitting on the chair in front of him. “I’m not talking about this.”

“Then what Ten?” Doyoung asked, trying to get straight to the point. A bomb already just fell on them, no need to add more surprises.

“Remember when she had her first panic attack because she had a fight with Jae?” The men nodded. “Well, she had one before too, and it was because of me. She had come with me to the library, I was looking for books trying to find the pieces to get to this,” he pointed to the screen with the file about the DREAM LAB open. “So I told her that I and Doyoung guessed they experimented on us while sleeping and she casually told me the same things written here.”

“Elaborate Ten, and fast or I’m going to beat your ass for not telling us before,” Doyoung warned with a firm tone.

“Calm down. She just said that they did that because our unconsciousness gave them a free getaway to our deepest parts. I was shocked but she was just making assumptions, like all of us. It didn’t seem like a big deal.”

“How all of that said by her didn’t seem like a big deal to you?” Doyoung asked, his voice coming out higher than he planned to.

“Because I don’t think she’s stupid.”

“But from what she said it’s like she knew what they wanted from us!” The other thinker almost screamed.

“She doesn’t,” Ten retorted.

“Technically she does,” Taeil said, getting back into the conversation.

“But she doesn’t remember. And no, Tae and her never knew what they actually wanted from us. Or how sick their plan was going to get.”

“Did she say something else?”

“We just came up to the conclusion that experimenting in our sleep was also crucial so that we wouldn’t be able to tell if it had been a dream or reality.”

“That’s why they knew what was going on. Taeyong and Anastasia were the only ones fighting back, they must have woke up and found out everything,” Taeil guessed. “I remember that I felt something strange sometimes, but it all felt like a dream, I just never paid much attention to it.”

“And you were the first one they started to test. Do you remember anything odd? Maybe a synchronized dream or anything else?”

Taeil thought for a while. “I’m not sure but I remember that was a time where I was having really bad nightmares, but they were messy just terrifying and then they would stop, abruptly, and it was always the same field of sunflowers and a swing moving alone.”

Doyoung sighed. “I know we tried to forget everything about the past but we need to try to dig deep within ourselves. We can’t talk with Taeyong or Anastasia right now, they’re not in the condition.”

“Taeil, I want you to try to talk with the others. If they had any specific dream that repeated itself, anything they remember is fine. Me and Ten will investigate further every file about each one of us. They tracked everything down.”

“Fine, I’ll start now. I guess, Jungwoo’s out?”

“Yes, he’s out. He just started getting better, he can’t go back to a dark place.”

Doyoung kept reading the notes and their profiles on the screen. He was going crazy.

“They needed her. She is the key to everything, so why they stopped searching for her?” He whispered, trying to think faster. He had this incredibly painful feeling that they already lost. Simon was ahead of them and he didn’t like it.

“I don’t think that’s the scary thing,” Ten said, stopping to nervously bite the pen in his mouth. “From what she said, she wasn’t the only one. They have other people they’re testing and we don’t know why. Yes, the dream lab to get inside of us and manipulate reality, but to do what? Why our parents were okay with all of this? What was the price that made them drop their ideal so easily? What did they do with Ana’s mom?”

“I think that the price was simply still being in power. If all of this plan starts from Simon, that means that he held the knife from the handle and he could swing at any moment.”

“But was it so necessary to do all of this?” Ten asked, it seemed so much.

“They had to. Not only to test on us before doing it to citizens, but also because we would’ve never accepted all of this. And that’s exactly what happened. We turned against them even if we knew little just because our trust of Taeyong and Anastasia was so strong.”

“You still think that’s a coincidence?” Ten asked, tossing and turning the pen in his hand.

“What?”

“That out of all the places she could go, she came here?”

“Technically, we brought her in,” Doyoung corrected.

Ten rolled his eyes and then said, “Were we supposed to leave her there?”

“No, I just keep on hoping that she’s not our Trojan horse.”

“But why would they be so stupid to let her in? They could’ve used some others to get in and spy on us. She never did any of this.”

“Maybe that was not their intention, anyway. I mean, look at us, Ten. Her arrival was like a bomb on our mental health that was already on the line. I have to replace Taeyong. Jaehyun got terrible at training. Yuta started to feel once again guilty for everything his parents have done. Us thinkers are going crazy over all of this. And I’m pretty sure that the others are not doing any better. Our long time friend is here with us again after we thought she was dead, and we can’t do anything about it. We don’t even know if she’s going to wake up again, and when. Isn’t this what they’ve always done? Using Jungwoo against Ana and Tae so they would behave and listen, either way, it meant for Jungwoo to disappear and go through I don’t know what kind of tortures.”

“And what can we do about this, Do?”

“I don’t know, Ten. For the first time in my life, I have no idea what to do.”

Remembering was something that she craved for so long and now that she finally got there she was hating it.

She didn’t like her story. She didn’t like it all. She didn’t like that the pain that she felt was now turning into an incredibly heavy weight on her chest with a fully formed shape. Her pain of before was hollow, but now, it wasn’t. All the pieces got back together to form a picture she wanted to tear apart.

What did all that words mean? She now got Taeyong, she didn’t want to be the chosen one, the fucking hero of a book she wanted to throw out of the window.

All of a sudden she wanted to forget.

And that’s why she woke up breaking the silence with a piercing scream that could be heard in almost the whole palace. Her hands grabbing the sheets at her side so tight that the veins popped out of the surface. No tears were rolling down her face. She wasn’t sad. She was furious. Mad that they were still out there ruining lives and not paying the price for what they did. Her eyes were closed but filled with blood. Her mind fogged with seek for revenge. She wanted to see them fall at her feet, kneeling and begging for forgiveness, spitting the blood for all of their sins.

“Bambi!” Kun screamed rushing inside the room to try to calm her down. The screams weren’t stopping but they were also accompanied by curses against somebody he couldn’t make out. Still, it didn’t take long for him to get that she had remembered at least something.

“Please, calm down!” Kun exclaimed, his usual calm composure nowhere to be found. He moved close to her, wrapping his arms around her.

“Let go of me!” She demanded, moving frenetically in his hold.

“No! Damn, where are the others when I need them.”

“It’s not fair!” She mumbled, now letting go of her pressure as the salty drops started to fall from her eyes. Taeyong, Sicheng and Jaehyun were standing at the door, they ran when they heard the screams but stopped to see where this was going. “It’s not fair...” She repeated, letting her body collapse in Kun’s arms. His hands cupped her head and kept her close to him. He tried to make her heartbeat go with his as he whispered lulls in her hears.

Her hands grabbed his coat and pulled him closer.

“They’re not there,” he whispered, caressing her hair.

“I want them to be here,” Bambi replied and all of them stilled. Did she want to get back? And why? But the words that left her mouth later made blood go iced in their veins.

“I want to see them spill blood in front of me.”

“Bam-”

“Drop it. Call me with my name, call me Anastasia,” she spat before Taeyong could go on.

“What do you remem-”

“Everything. I remembered everything.”

“Why you didn’t say a word?” She asked, placing in the spot between her legs the glass Sicheng gave her before. They all decided to sit down and talk for real for the first time.

“We weren’t sure,” Taeyong explained, his thumbs playing with each other nervously.

Anastasia chuckled, rolling her eyes to the sky. As if she didn’t give them enough signs. Probably if they didn’t try to make it look like she was insane it would’ve been easier for her to remember.

“We tough you were dead. It felt that we were acting delusional to even think you were her, well you were you, oh you got what I’m trying to say!” He exclaimed in frustration. He was still confused and now that she remembered everything they still had no idea how to deal with her. Also, the calm Doyoung wanted to give him didn’t last much, he really couldn’t rest right now.

“Also, is Simon we are talking about. We couldn’t be sure about you,” Kun added, trying to make her see their point of view. To be honest, he agreed with her, he had tried to make them think more than once but it was all useless. At the same time, he knew that starting to beef with each other right now was not the right thing to do.

Anastasia spared a quick glance at all of them and then stopped on Jaehyun for a bit more. He wasn’t looking at her, his head low focused on his hands. She had so many questions but her head was throbbing and the pain was killing her.

“I need a pain killer,” she said, turning to Kun another time.

“But you had the V-”

“Kun,” she stopped him, her voice firm like never before. “I need pain killers, this headache is killing me.”

A shiver run down Kun’s spine at her change. Bambi wasn’t there anymore and he had a feeling that the healing now was going to be even harder than before. He sighed and then got up. “I’ll bring it to you.”

“Are you mad at us?” Sicheng asked once Kun was out of the room. His eyes studied Anastasia’s expression, trying to catch a glimpse of her old self or at least at the sweet soul that Bambi was.

She shook her head. “No, how could I? I’m just confused and...” she said, looking at him with a small bitter smile on her face. “Okay, I’m mad.”

“But not at you. I,” she stopped once again. What was she still complaining of? She was more than sure they were fed up with her shit. They already had their problems and she did nothing but make everything worst. And now, that everything came back, she was once again sitting there complaining.

“You have all the right to be mad,” Taeyong said, almost as if he could read her mind. And probably he really could, somehow he always did. Reading her like the pages of an open book. “And confused, tired, angry, sad.” He smiled, shyly moving his hand to touch hers, fearing she would pull away, but she didn’t.

“You also have all the rights to still feel out of place. It’s not easy, Ana, it never was and will never be. It’s going to take time, but if you still want, we can be your home, your family. But if you don’t feel anything that ties you to us anymore, then you’re also free to leave,” he added, his voice sounding soft and welcoming like never before to her ears. He was still hoping for the first, but if she felt that wasn’t her place, could they force her to stay? Absolutely no. This wasn’t the end, it was just the beginning of a healing process that was going to be painful and long. And he couldn’t blame her if she just wanted to turn the page, end the book and put it on a shelf to start another one, another life. They could’ve made her change her documents, provide her with a home and a job and nothing would’ve kept them together anymore. If that was the solution to defend her from Simon and their parents, they would’ve done that.

The others didn’t say anything, simply agreed, nodding with their heads low. And neither did Anastasia. After all she put them through he was still willing to let her choose? And not fight this battle with them? Taeyong was still the selfless boy she grew up with and that saddened her a bit.

“You should probably eat something and get a breath of fresh air,” Taeyong noted, getting up from his seat. He wasn’t looking for an answer right at the moment, he would’ve waited. He would’ve always waited for her. He then leaned a hand to her which she took without hesitation. She didn’t want to stay in that room one second more and she was starving.

Holding tight on Taeyong’s hand and Sicheng’s arms supporting her, she walked out of the room.

She didn’t answer, but she knew exactly what she wanted.

She wanted to stay. That was her place. And deep inside her heart, she knew that.

She knew, that it couldn’t rain forever.

#nct fanfiction #nct fantasy au #nct royal au #nct smut #nct angst #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv

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