#it was. amazing. i don't even have words.

[midnite-c6]

Omg so I just LOVED the fics that you wrote about thanos and namgyu soo I wanted to ask can you like write more fics about them in like threesome degrading tf out of us so much that we cannot even think of anything or maybe like a second part for timid!reader THAT ONE WAS AMAZING!!!! keep up w your work btw its really good 😭🙏🏻

help thank you😭😭 honestly i love writing abt them i jus.. meow...

thanos & nam-gyu imagine pt. 4!! 🤤

warnings: 18+ DARK content, drugging, dubcon (read at ur own riskk!!)

they both believe you can't fight for yourself since you're so quiet, so they do their best to keep you safe!! they're so kind despite their nature!! you think to urself..., and despite the way they used your body after the six legged race, you still stick with them since they helped you in mingle too!! honestly, thanos and nam-gyu would've thought you'd be getting away from them after that incident, so by you staying, they've confirmed they've got you right in their trap!!

thanos looks up from his food, his eyes lighting up when he sees you "señorita?" he tilts his head, "i don't have any other group to eat with.." you say, looking down at your feet, "nooo! i know what it is!" he nudges nam-gyu's shoulder, "you're here for more aren't you?" he says with that smirk again, dramatically gasping. "what..no.." you weren't like that, you swear! nam-gyu laughed "shit, she's just using our bodies, man!" you quickly shake your head "no!" nam-gyu tilts his head "when did you learn to say no?" thanos stands up, getting closer to you, "listen here, beautiful, we'll do whatever you want, sure.. you're the one in-charge." he smiled 'innocently', leaning in to whisper in your ear "c'mere after lights out, kay?"

nsfw below.. (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/

"you really are a fucking whore." thanos quietly whispers into your ear as he slams in and out of you, your back pressed against his chest, your moans being muffled by his hand, it was a good thing thanos' bed was closer to the ground and that the players above him were already dead, but you know the other players could still hear the faint squeaking of his mattress. "of course you'd listen like a slut, coming here, infact, you were excited for this. hmm?" why DID you go there anyway? ..maybe it did feel good? but poor you! his thrusts weren't giving you any mercy at all.

"i bet.. you don't have any shame at all. you're quietness is just an act.." nam-gyu whispered aswell, with his body infront of you, his hands exploring every inch of your skin, painfully pinching your nipples and biting your neck as you rub your hand in and out of his cock. "you're practically begging for it." "n-n.." you couldn't speak back because of that purple-haired addict's hand!

"wait.. fuuuck, you're sucking me in like crazy, you're gonna cut my dick off, god." thanos whined, putting in two fingers inside your mouth, the taste of his fingers all over your tongue.

"y'knoww.. so fucking funny how she's volunteered to be our personal ..stress toy." nam-gyu's hand find it's way to thanos' necklace filled with ecstacy, he grabs a pill, his attention back on you "we truly thank you for that.. are you proud of your services, freak?" he says mockingly just to spite you, his other hand grabs thanos' hand muffling your mouth. "let go, dude." "she's gonna scream," "nah, nah, she won't. she doesn't wanna die does she?" you whined, shaking your head. "good, slut." nam-gyu smiled, taking the pill he had in his hand and putting it in his mouth. thanos' takes off his hand, his middle and ring finger covered in your saliva as he now places it on your clit, rubbing sloppily. and before you could make any noise, nam-gyu slams his mouth against yours, making you swallow the pill of ecstacy. his tongue tasting your mouth, swallowing each moan escaping your lips. nam-gyu pulls away from your mouth, forcing it to open just to spit inside.

with all the pleasure they were giving despite the mean words, you camee:( your legs were shaking like crazy! "hey! no fair, bitch! i didn't get to cum yet." thanos was frustrated, yet you whimpered in response, you didn't mean to cum!!. "but.. just means we'll be here for muuuuch longer, baby. ya' can't complain, you know you're a whore who can't live without us." thanos didn't lie, your cunt was throbbing and overstimulated by both of their cocks in and out of you. he also didn't lie about how you wouldn't be alive without them, it's true, they saved you anyway, guess you gotta thank them for keeping you safe. ♡

this is pretty long, im srry guyss!! only putting in what my mind is thinking of atm AHHAAH 3somes are so hard to write 😭😭😿🙏🏻

[theladybrownstarot]

How's the personality of your future spouse ?

✧ Here's my masterlist for more !

✧ Make sure you like/reblogg/Comment and follow more pacs like these !

Pick-A-Pile : here's a new pick card reading for you all ! So close your eyes and breathe in and out then choose pile(s) attracting you most . This is a general reading so it may resonate and not , my readings are not the universal truth so make your decisions wisely 🩷

Pile 1 / Pile 2 / Pile 3 ~

✧ Pile 1

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's begin with your reading:

Right off the bat - feminine kind of person . They are someone who is very hopeful and determined in life , no matter how Many hardship They face they always stand again and follow to what they are always being called too . This person is really charismatic wether male or female they have this masculine energy in them when it comes to leading people and helping them, they had be someone who will not leave any person till the end but because of their genuine nature people at times take advantage of them. They are someone who will listen to all and learn from all but they will listen to themselves at last and introspect deeply to what they want to take ahead in life with them in their energy . Their voice is really sweet and honey like , Infact their personality too but mostly their voice . They maybe animal lovers too also have special bond with animals . This person has this healing touch to their personality and vibe that people come to them when In need , this person is emotionally very strong and experienced also matured than their age .

This person could have family related trauma too or their family is the greatest teacher and support, also this person is a family person or would love to have a family with you. They are believers for sure, no matter what happens they will follow and belive to what they feel called to help them up from their situation . They are visionary and have high goals also standards . They are also a good luck for themselves and others too fulfilling life with optimism and happiness .

✧ Keyword and Extra messages : hope , visionary, water sign - rising or moon , family , saturn/jupiter in 9th/8th house , pastries, sweet voice , animals ,vet , travel , plane , pilot, mars and ketu, threater - dramatic .

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

✧ Pile 2

Namaste pile 2 ! Let's begin with your reading

I got two words first- indigo and Rainbow for them. They are someone jolly and happy go around type of person yet they are someone who will have this mystery inside no matter how you assure yourself that they are known to you very much. There's something surprising to them, and they reveal this small surprises about themselves in right situations only . They are quite shy and anxious too in general. They are cunning too , no matter how much you plan behind their back they will always know about it advance and back attack before you will even make a move leaving you in wonder and disbelief. They are chilled or have nonchalant attitude when it comes to their work , he/she's like - "aah I man I got it no worries at all". They are also cut throat when it comes to expressing opinions about someone , they don't sugarcoat at all . This is person is also into lots of self care and self love that's why they got themselves Pretty amazing in their life going with the flow. They value emotions a lot so of others too , this won't disrespect or disregard someone no matter even it's an enemy expressing their vunerable side or also in general because their morals are high so also they are quite a person with manners too . People might not approach this person because of their attitude but that doesn't mean they are bad ,they are just themselves .

They are intuitive , could be psychics too or have interest in occult sciences. They value their family a lot , also dont ever disrespect them emotionally because they are not attached kind of person ; the moment you disrespect , the moment they will leave you forever hence quite a person with boundaries . They will live their life purpose for sure so at times it's possible that they may not be available some time but otherwise they will be and are . Even they aren't there physically remember he/she will or knows what's going on with you and Will love and support you from far never making you feel alone or unloved .

✧ key words and extra messages : psychic , silent , lone/alone wolf , direct , honest , ketu in 11th house, sun in 10th house, mysterious , Venus in fifth/fourth house with Mars conjuction possibly , spiritual.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

✧ Pile 3

Namaste pile 3 ! Let's begin with your reading

Your future spouse's personality is quite vampirish , I must say . There's this aggression and passion mix in them which flows in their pain . They will be someone who will not show their anger directly rather they will Suck out the person's soul through an interesting way . Next , I sense is that this person is really balanced - emotional and practical doesn't need a lot of time to rebalance , they are really clear about their approach and action. Theirs this sharpness and hotness in them that makes them Hella attractive which is quite mix with bad boy attitude but same something more sweet equally mixed , their personality is quite addictive. They are also grounded and humble being on this earth who is ready to make anyone happy and entertained . I sense that they are also quite flirty and enjoy every moment of their life , compassionate kind of person one can say. They are like a gentleman at first impression because of their approach . I cannot deny if they are in "rom-com" alot because I sense it so much here , they are quite a Day dreamer for sure.

This person is a nature love and loves being In fantasy, when someone meets them for sure someone will think if this person is a character from a book ? Why so because they are like someone who is rare and precious to find. They will be a kind of person who is sole beliver of "free will", he/she doesn't want to be bounded to anything so they quite can be irresponsible at times . They could also be good singers or could play instruments too. He or she is always ready for a new adventure in life.So if you ever think that your life has ended , they will be the first one to make you more hopeful and motivated .

✧ Keyboards and extra messages : ice cream , 5th house and 11th house synastry , free will , hot and cold, addictive personality , bad boy mix , scorpio ascendant or mars in scorpio , gentleman , casino, piano, Venus in 11th house, grounded and emotional.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

©️ @theladybrownstarot 2023 all rights reserved. Any stealing or copying of work will be a punishable offence.

[miedei]

hii, i saw your requests are open, so i was thinking how about spencer and reader have a fwb thing going on, but he always told her not to get attached, so she breaks things off and spencer seems fine with that, until he realizes that she goes on dates with other people so maybe they fight about it and they confess their feelings

YES i love this concept nonnie my love this is amazing

not jealous

wc: 1.2k

ex-fwb!spencer gets jealous, but he doesn't have any feelings for you... right?

cw: a little suggestive i think, i can't be held responsible for the things i think ab spencer reid, wrote this in a fugue state that's the only way i can explain this

(PS: reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

mlist

Penelope Garcia is one of Spencer's favourite people in the world, but at this very moment he feels the shameful urge to tell her to shut up.

"Honey, you'd love him! He's a doctor at the hospital a few streets down, so he understands the whole married-to-the-job thing, and he's smart! Just one date, my love, please? You can totally ghost him afterward if you hate him, though I don't think you will," Garcia is perched on your desk, right across from Spencers, so he can't tune this out, despite his repeated attempts to.

You can't help but sigh, staring up at Garcia as she continues to speak. She means well, you know that. You never told her what happened, but she can tell that you've been lonely, and she's doing everything she can to help.

You can't tell her, you know that, but it doesn't stop you from wanting to.

"It's probably best if we stay like this. We can be coworkers, friends. It'd be easier if we stay unattached."

The words Spencer said to you months ago are still fresh in your mind. You'd agreed, drunk on the feeling of being wanted, and you were aware that feelings would make things more complicated. You knew that, and yet-

"Spencer, we need to stop. I can't do this no-strings-attached thing anymore."

"Then we can- we can stop. We'll stay friends, right?"

"Right."

Months of stolen moments, hotel room beds, and tangled limbs had gone to your head, and cutting it off had been the best thing to do. Spencer had made it clear that your arrangement was only viable when both of you didn't have feelings, and you knew that.

Getting over someone is hard enough, but Spencer Reid is worse. He's always there, soft smiles and rambling conversations. He seemingly hasn't been affected by the end of your situation at all.

Snapping back to reality, you look up at Garcia, who's looking at you with a hopeful smile. You can see Spencer out of the corner of your eye, staring at his monitor like he couldn't care less who you date.

It's infuriating.

He's over it! He was probably never as attached as you were, why would he care if you date?

"You know what? Give me his number."

"Yes!" Garcia pumps a fist before swooping down to press a kiss to your cheek. "You won't regret this, I swear!" She grabs a business card out of her pocket and hands it to you, squeezing you one more time before flouncing off.

You fondle the stiff cardboard once, before placing it down on your desk.

Spencer hates him. James Lee. The cursive scripture on the business card stares up at him, mocking him as he tries to work. Your desk is always neat, knickknacks all in their proper spot, so the card is out of place, that's why Spencer can't stop sneaking looks at it.

He's a doctor. So is Spencer. Three times over! If you wanted to date a doctor, why not look for him instead of James Lee, MD.

A PhD's much better than an MD anyway. More effort.

He sighs. He's being petulant, he knows that. You're allowed to date people.

Even if Spencer's the one that knows the way you stretch when you've just woken up. Even if he's the one that's felt your skin under his hands. Even if he's the one that's learned how to elicit those sounds from you.

He can't take it any more, rising abruptly from his desk, stomping over to the kitchenette. The coffee pot is nearly empty, and he pours the dregs into his cup, spooning sugar into it with barely restrained movements.

He can hear Emily humming, Morgan tapping his pen against his desk. He can hear you, typing away at your phone.

He can't take it any more.

Stalking over to his desk, he picks up a random file, and stands by your elbow.

"I need to talk to you about this file. Can you help me find the other report?" He all but melts with relief when you set down your phone, following him to the storage room readily.

Being in close quarters like this causes memories to come rushing back, and you can't help the blush that comes to your face. Shaking your head slightly, you look up at Spencer, resolutely shutting out the images in your mind.

"What report are we looking for?"

He looks sheepish, but his eyes are intense as he looks down at you.

"There's no report. I need to talk to you." You tilt your head in confusion, focusing entirely on him. "Don't go on a date with him."

"What?"

"That guy." He nearly spits out his words. "Garcia's friend. Don't go out with him."

What? He's acting weird, completely still as his eyes blaze into yours.

"Why do you care if I go out with him? Garcia said he's a good guy, I trust her."

He shakes his head. "I'm- I'm sure he's normal. Nice. But you shouldn't go out with him."

He's infuriating, dancing around whatever he means.

"Why, Spencer? I think this would be good for me! I want to have fun."

"With him? You don't know him! Why not go out with someone you-" He cuts himself off, his hand flying to his hair in frustration. "Why this guy? Why not someone you know?" If it weren't Spencer, you'd say he was growling, his eyes dark.

Is he angry at you for going out with this guy?

"What? Are you seriously mad at me? For what?" His eyes flash at your words.

"Why date him? Why not-"

"Who would I date? You? Are you angry at me for dating someone else when we never dated at all? Spencer, you wanted no feelings! I did what you asked, I ended- whatever we were, because you said we shouldn't involve feelings!" Your chest tightens, looking away from him.

"What are you saying? You ended it because... Why didn't you tell me?" He ducks his head, trying to meet your gaze. You've had enough. Enough of his maddening words, making you feel bad for doing what he asked of you.

"Spencer, you're being unfair. What more do you want me to tell you? Do you want me to tell you that I wanted more? I ended it because I caught feelings, and you didn't want that, so I told you we had to stop because I couldn't hide it from you, not when we were always together, and-"

You're stunned into silence when his hands come up to frame your face, impossibly gentle as large fingers trace your jaw.

"You're right, I said that." A hand travels higher, cupping your cheek. "I shouldn't have, though. I should've... should've told you."

You can't help but whisper, the intimacy of the moment blanketing the small room in quiet. "Told me what?"

As if in answer, he ducks his head towards you, and you instinctually crane your head upwards to meet his lips.

It's practised, even if it's been a while. Your hands travel up his sides, bracing your palms on either side of his jaw as his come down to grip your waist.

His lips are soft yet insistent, pressing against you like he's trying to impart a message. Lips part, breath stolen, and it's minutes before either of you pulls back.

Your forehead presses against his, chest heaving. His eyes are light, and a breathless giggle leaves his lips as he looks at you.

"Don't go on that date. Please."

"You're going to have to take that up with Garcia."

[lovieku]

i don’t even know what to say. you’ve left a yapper speechless. with Real Tears in her eyes. i feel so much adoration for you and i’m soso grateful for your words, the time that went into composing such a heartfelt review, and just your support. i actually will fall on my knees and beg you to kiss me PLEASE MISSIE 😭😭🩷

something about your ocs (at least from what i've been able to read so far) is that you really capture the essence of their innocence and youth. it makes me nostalgic and so protective of them 🥺 esp this oc and how the fic ended. bc even if jk didn't want to rob her of her youth, he did. and god, does it hurt.

this DID it for me… had my ass pulling a tom holland, i got the engagement ring here baby plz!

i have always been insecure of the way i capture most of my ocs… i think i can’t help but unconsciously make them “weaker” just bc they’re the victims of so many more painful and deeper emotions. it’s something i like but i also fear it can maybe come across as a stereotypical depiction of women? idk. but your comment really made it better. i’m happy you liked her 🩷 and Sawrry you could feel her hurt hehe

like i said, it takes a real special person to pull off this sort of trope, but i expected no less from you. bc wow... amazing. i don't read a lot of age gap fics bc if im being frank... it's a pretty taboo topic in our society, yet this happens everyday to real people, right? i think it's one thing to judge it based on what it is and then having the opportunity to build a world with characters and feelings around it. what an experience. thank you as always lovie!!

i’m 🥹🥹 so lovingly overwhelmed with this. it’s suchhhh a huge honor. to be seen as a special person?!???? by you!!!!?? and wow this is like the biggest compliment i’ve ever received. i love reading about age gaps, and writing it has been a challenge but it still remains one of my favorite tropes. and you’re totally right about what you’re saying. i haven’t found myself supportive of it in situations that saw my closed ones involved, but writing and reading about it truly puts things into another perspective sometimes. these stories still deserve to be told ❣️

thank You, prettiest soul 🩷 always thankful <3

OLDER ⋆ 정국

you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.

pairing: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader

genre: smut, dilf au, best friend’s father

warnings: lower case intended, porn with some lots of plot, age gap (21 n 38), dom!jk, sub!reader, voyeurism, messy blow job, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of tit play (small chested reader yayyy), two (2) spanks, unprotected sex, cum eating, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, but also praise, pet names, some angst hehe, she falls first he falls harder??? but miscommunication sadly, forbidden love

ratings: 18+ / mdi

word count: 18.2k

a/n: i kinda hate this it doesnt make sense anymore to me but when i realized i was already 12k words in so 😃 here you are! its also so hard to write smut for me because i get carried away but then it becomes too overwhelming Help. anyways. im back hey!!!!

────୨ৎ────

in the backseat of his car, you stare forward at his hands gripping the steering wheel. there’s something hypnotic about the way his fingers curl around the leather. you bite your lips, an attempt to suppress the heat easily pooling low in your belly, your thighs rubbing together to conceal the effects of your lewd thoughts.

but amid them, one stands out. it’s the one that puts a shameless, selfish smile on your face, when you fixate on the image of the fourth finger of his left hand lacking a gold band.

it’s been a few months since that day— since areum, your best friend, showed up at your door in a frantic state, her finger jabbing the bell over and over in a panicked rhythm that jolted you from your bed.

you had nearly tripped down the stairs in your rush to swing the entrance open, and when you did, you were instantly tackled by your friend collapsing into your arms, her tears soaking through your shirt.

kicking the door shut, your hands busy embracing areum with panic in your eyes, you tried to steady both her and yourself. in between her uncontrollable sobs, shaking you to the core, she let her worries tumble out her mouth. her words came in a torrent, fast and breathless, barely giving you any time to fully process them as she buried her face in your neck, her body trembling.

it took a moment for the huge news to break through your thick, slowed down brain, but then it struck you, areum chanting it repeatedly as if she couldn’t grasp her mind around it: her parents were splitting up. divorce was imminent.

your own disbelief mirrored hers, but for very different reasons. you felt it in the way your shock turned into excitement; indecorous, depraved exhilaration, with your friend still hiding in your chest.

even as her sobs echoed in your ears, your mind latched onto one single thought, repeating like a mantra: he’s single. mr. jeon is single.

you felt terribly guilty when you sensed a smile that you couldn’t quite suppress stretching over your features, and the jittery sensation that came with it flowed your body and reached your hands, tightening them around areum harder to try and squeeze the shame out of yourself.

since that day, you’ve lost count of how many afternoons you’ve spent at areum’s house. you’ve been doing your best to be the friend she needs, to keep her company when what she fears the most is loneliness.

you’ve been a constant presence, helping her through the mountain of neglected work she left piling up, distracting her with baking sessions, or mindlessly binge watching entire seasons of friends on lazy evenings. anything to keep her mind off the pain.

but each visit is an opportunity. a fleeting chance to see him. to study how he moves around the house with that quiet intensity of his, a presence able to fill every room like a calm, steady current.

you’ve memorized many of his mannerisms. the way his eyes soften when he looks at areum; the way his mouth twitches into a faint smile when she tries to cheer him up; the way he nods at you in recognisment, silently letting you know he’s grateful for what you’re doing to help his daughter.

you wish you could help him too. in other ways. ways you know you shouldn’t be thinking about.

you can’t avoid it, though. you’ve witnessed him come back home from work countless times now, watched the tension etched across his features as he steps through the door, wished you could be the one to ease it off his shoulders. let your hand travel down his chest, reach his belt.

you feel disgusting unfailingly, but how can you not let your mind wander when he groans so deliciously every time he loosens the tie around his neck and kicks off his shoes?

you know exactly what his next move is, the imperceptible sigh melting the weariness off his face the moment he greets his daughter, a tender smile breaking through his exhaustion.

“any requests for dinner tonight, girls?” he always asks, his gaze jumping between areum and you on the living room couch, waiting for a response.

after your friend replies she likes whatever her daddy cooks, your stomach twists with nerves when his eyes meet yours to make sure there’s no complaints, and you quickly shake your head, biting your lips to keep from saying something foolish. is your dick on the menu? perhaps?

and the man can cook. exceptionally well. he moves around the kitchen with an effortless grace, every movement purposeful, every dish you have the honor of tasting better than the last.

while you help setting the table, you catch yourself staring more times than you should, mesmerized by the way he chops vegetables or stirs a pot, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.

fuck. is there even a single flawed bone in this man’s body? with every day you spend at his house, you’re convinced there can’t be.

you want him to notice you, the same way you notice him. you tell yourself you’re just being a good friend to areum, but you know there’s more behind your constant visits.

there’s definitely more behind the way your skirts get shorter, your tops tighter, your bras purposefully not worn.

you feel crazed when you convince yourself his gaze falls upon your exposed thighs when he puts a plate in front of you at dinner, or when his eyes seem to be caught, only for a fleeting second, by your hardened nipples, evident through your poor excuses of shirts.

even when your interactions don’t go further than a brief exchange about college and areum or quiet, polite smiles in passing, the mere thought of being around him sends a rush through your veins, a dark and forbidden feeling tumbling in your stomach.

you’ve been seeking more and more of that after one particular night, your feet making their way down the stairs after areum had fallen asleep and you had rathered take your leave. you found him stretched on the couch, a drink in his hand.

his eyes hazily followed your movements, his voice low and slightly slurred, “are you leaving already?”

hearing him acknowledge you outside of the usual context of areum’s presence made you stop dead in your tracks, your reddened cheeks turning to face him, the dark color spreading all over your features when you fully took him in.

he was cladded in a comfortable attire, one you almost never saw on him, black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt falling sweetly on his shoulders, the short sleeves revealing the intricate ink designs running all over his right arm.

you shook yourself out of your trance suddenly, stuttering, “huh… yes. didn’t wanna be a bother.”

he chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, “oh, you’re not. i wish all of my daughter’s friends were like you.”

his words hung in the air, with sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. you simply laughed along, a nervous, shaky sound escaping your lips, trying to mask the way your heart was racing with desperation for the gods to grace you with the depth of his tipsy voice all night.

to this day, you still think your horny and delusional prayer was heard when he nodded to the empty space beside him, lifting his glass slightly, “care for a drink? you’re 21 now, right?”

you only nodded shyly, more out of reflex than actual thought, slowly making your way to sit beside him just as he had instructed. the proximity sent a wave of heat through your body, your insides melting with the lava, the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent replacing the burned ground with a trail of flowers.

you were willing to do whatever he wanted from you at that moment, even if it meant downing the harsh liquor he poured into a glass for you. you took a sip, struggling not to grimace at the burn that followed. he smiled.

it was probably the alcohol loosening his tongue, but that night, for the first time, you saw a side of mr. jeon that he kept carefully hidden away, his vulnerability a strong characteristic of it.

his words tumbled out in a quiet, almost confessional tone. he spoke about his marriage, about how he had always felt somewhat trapped. still a teenager himself, he was only 17 when he found out his soon to be wife was pregnant with areum; 23 when they decided to marry.

his voice soft, but tinged with a sadness you hadn’t heard before, he admitted he never felt like he got to live his youth to the fullest, certainly blessed with his perfect baby, but also chained down by responsibilities and a tightening pressure he shouldn’t have had to deal with at such a young age.

then, with his eyes burning into your shiny and equally flaring ones, he paused just for a moment, and you felt he could see right through you, into the very core of your being. that he had you all figured out.

“when i look at you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze traveling down your bare thighs, squished together on his couch, “i feel like i get a bit of that youth back. you’re so full of life, so fresh, so… full of love for my daughter. i’m glad she has you. glad we have you.”

as he found your orbs again, you noticed his had significantly darkened. you were sure your heart would have failed you if you had kept navigating in his gaze; instead, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.

that night, he paid for your uber and insisted you sent him a text when you made it home. it was only read the morning after, and left unanswered.

even now, you’re convinced that if it weren’t for the whisky, those words would have stayed locked away in his mind, never seeing the light of day. not even if he were forced to speak them at gunpoint.

still, you’re grateful for the magical effects of alcohol and how they’ve brought you a tiny bit closer to give a look into his complicated world. it has awakened something in you, something stronger and far more dangerous than anything you’ve felt before.

you want to be there for him. help him through the doubts and regrets. be the youth he missed. take the weight off his shoulders. let him use you on that couch.

that feral, undomesticated monster inside you is a hundred times hungrier when, exiting the library building with areum by your side, babbling in your ear about today’s plans, you see his sleek mercedes parked outside.

he honks, getting his daughter’s attention too, who excitedly walks over the car when she spots it. the sound works as a pavlovian trigger for you, it has your mouth salivating and your senses alert, catching up with your friend and getting in the backseat.

it has been a few weeks since you last saw him, both you and areum too busy with assignments and outside activities, and his charming smile as he asks about the day cuts the breath from your lungs.

you’re silent as your friend fills him in, your ears struggling to pick up her speech as it only takes a few more seconds for your eyes to be caught by an interesting detail, one that has your world rocked: he finally took his wedding ring off.

the wedding ring that has stood as an unspoken boundary between you and your reckless fantasies is gone.

the realization hits hard, and suddenly, the reality around you narrows. your mind veers into dangerous territory, conjuring visions that feel too real.

you can almost feel his left hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, claiming you. and the images are so vivid, so consuming, that you don’t even notice when areum nudges your shoulder.

you don’t register her calling your name until the sound finally cuts through, pulling you back to the present with a jolt.

you blink a few times, trying to ground yourself, before turning to face her, areum’s voice light but her expression amusedly curious, “dad asked you a question.”

your whole face drops, panic clear in your features, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. you’ve been zoning out, lost in a daydream about the very man sitting in front of you, the one you literally just ignored, too busy thinking of him. the irony is almost too much.

your eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and the slight smirk on his lips only makes you look even dumber, stuttering all throughout your explanation, “sorry, mr. jeon. i— um. i was distracted.”

he simply chuckles, low and clearly not offended by your lapse in attention. his focus is back on the road, but as he speaks you keep yours on the words he’s directing at you this time, “it’s okay. i always tell you, just jeongguk is fine. i was asking about your day, you seem a little worn out.”

“oh. i—it went well! i guess i’m just tired,” the words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you hope they sound convincing enough. you just can’t stop your eyes from falling on his left hand.

“well, you can’t be!” it’s areum’s excitement interrupting your furious imagination and bubbling over, “you need to help me set up for tonight. then, we’re gonna do our makeup, our hair, and dress up. i’m so excited!”

right. the reason why you could finally see mr. jeon after weeks and why you’re currently driving to his house is because it’s areum’s birthday.

the day feels significant in so many ways. you’re excited to witness your best friend turn a year older even after the hardships she’s been faced with. honored that you’re the one she’s chosen to help make this night perfect, ensure every detail is just how she’s pictured this moment to be like. and you can’t deny that you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of tonight, knowing there’s going to be faces you’re not that well acquainted with. you’d say you’re a bit awkward with new people, but you’ll try to bear through it for the sake of areum’s happiness.

but mostly, you feel guilty. because no matter how much you try to focus on your friend, the thought that truly makes your insides all mushy with fuzziness is the fact that you’re going to be in the proximity of her dad, again.

you crave for the smallest moments. the brief second where you’ll catch his gaze. the way his cologne will subtly linger in the hallways of his home. your eyes have a habit of drifting to his hands, those strong, veined, tattooed hands that move so smoothly whenever he speaks.

even now, in his car, as you glance at his side profile, there’s a ridiculous and almost cosmic sense of gratitude. like you’ve been chosen. blessed by whatever god to exist on this planet at the same time as him, to simply witness his presence.

it should be enough. it really should. but you’re a sinner. you’re greedy, wanting more. always more.

that buzzing sensation sticks with you throughout the entire day. the hours are packed with frantic energy, as you and areum run around in anxious over-organization, only for her own panic to rub off on you, making your movements quick and precise, as if every step has to be executed flawlessly.

and with all the chaos, he’s there in the back of your mind. mr. jeon. his presence is overwhelming, even when he’s not around.

he helps for a while, joining you in the backyard as you set up for the evening, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the whirlwind around you. but then he disappears into his studio, retreating into his own space, leaving you to your tasks, and you don’t see him until hours later.

yet, you still feel him, as if he’s always near. his upstairs studio’s window faces the garden, and it’s enough to make you hyper-aware of your every gesture.

you straighten your back, slow your steps, each action more deliberate, because even though you don’t know if he’s really watching, it feels like he is.

getting your makeup, hair and outfit ready with areum does slightly ease that sensation off your chest. you love these moments with her. shared girlhood when you do each other’s eyeliner, the flutter of excitement as you zip up dresses, as you rummage through her closet, searching for the perfect piece to complete your look.

but even then, you’re brought back to the man working just a few rooms down the hallway. it’s astonishing how easily areum has access to everything she wants. the power her dad holds, the kind of wealth that makes life feel effortless in ways you can’t help but envy.

for her, money isn’t just something that buys things. it’s a silent force that shapes her world. she doesn’t have to worry about how much something costs or wonder if she’ll ever have enough. it’s as simple as snapping her fingers.

it must be nice to have that kind of life. to have someone like him in your corner, with wealth that seems to fall into place as easily as leaves from a tree. you don’t resent her for it, not really. but it makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a world where nothing is out of reach.

where everything, even the man who haunts your thoughts, could be yours with the right words or a simple gesture.

when you see him again, you’re standing in his kitchen. areum is still upstairs, fixing the tiniest details to her makeup, but you decided to come down early, just in case the first guests arrive, wanting to be helpful, wanting to keep yourself busy.

you’re momentarily lost in the view outside the window, the backyard garden bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, their soft hues blending beautifully with the sage and pastel yellow decorations. the setup looks like something out of a dream, and it pulls a small, unbidden smile to your face.

the quiet peace is interrupted by the sound of a cupboard cracking open behind you, and you startle, your heart giving a quick jump.

you turn, following the noise, and there he is— jeongguk, bent over as he retrieves a bottle of red wine from the lower cupboard.

as he straightens up, bottle in hand, he finds your eyes already staring in his. he’s uncharacteristically deliberate as he still lets his gaze wander up and down your figure.

you’ve dressed carefully for tonight, choosing a flowy pink dress that flutters delicately against your thighs. the corset top hugs your waist in all the right ways, accentuating your shape, the kind of dress that makes you feel just a little more confident, a little more seen.

but now, under his gaze, you feel exposed, like he’s seeing more than just the fabric of your dress. his eyes linger longer than usual, and when his orbs dip to your chest, it’s almost as if he hesitates, like he’s trying to tear his eyes away but can’t.

you’re not even sure if the engrossed look on his face is real or just the product of your own twisted fantasies.

still, your body responds instinctively, your hand drifting up to play with your necklace, an unconscious gesture, while your other arm wraps around your waist, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together under the intensity of his stare.

when his eyes return to your wide ones, he gives a subtle nod towards your dress, and the smile that curves his lips is warm, but you can’t decipher that something else it wants to communicate.

his voice is smoother than you’ve ever heard it, as if literal honey, sweet and rich, is dripping out from his pillowy lips, “what a beauty. you look very pretty.”

you weren’t expecting that. it steals the breath from your lungs. it’s not just the words, or even the way he says them, velvet wrapping around your senses.

it’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.

at this point, you’re seriously questioning if there was a stronger substance in the liquor you and areum shared earlier, even if you hadn’t taken big quantities, each small sip burning your throat and making you grimace at the sensation. but you figure it must have been enough to distort the current reality around you. or maybe, mr. jeon is the inebriated one.

you don't know how you find the voice to speak, or if you even do, the word escaping your lips in an uncoordinated mess, almost imperceptible, “thanks.”

he hums deeply in response, and it vibrates through the space between you. you let out a shaky exhale the moment his gaze finally shifts away. he resumes the task at hand, effortlessly opening the bottle of wine and turning his back to you as he reaches for a glass from the higher cabinet.

the muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt, and for a split second, you’re unsure what to do. whether to stay, add anything else, flee the room entirely. make small conversation about areum’s birthday. comment on his look, too. oh, you have a lot to say about it.

you can tell he just wrapped up his work-related tasks for today from the way the first three buttons of his white shirt are opened, revealing his deep cleavage. his hair slightly tousled, but in a way that looks purposeful, perfectly intentional. his slacks hug him deliciously, rounding the curve of his ass and making you swallow hard.

your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you, and the counter.

surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence first, again. the rich sound fills the air as he pours the red wine, the motion so precise, so fluid, it feels like witnessing an authentic art form.

he doesn’t bother looking up at you as he asks, seemingly casual, but slightly amused, “is there a boy you’re trying to impress tonight?”

the way he steers the conversation makes you less agitated, more confident. especially with the question thrown your way. teasing, almost belittling. you can see he’s not even trying to hide his pretty smirk, his focus on the wine flowing into the glass.

the question lingers, and you twirl your necklace around your fingers, smoothing down your dress with your other hand, your eyes flitting to his naked left hand, “mh… you could say so.”

of course, you’re not thinking about a boy. mr. jeon is no boy— he’s a man. the kind women dream about but know they’ll never find. the kind that belongs on the big screen or in the pages of a novel, with his effortless charm, his wealth, his looks that stop you in your tracks.

but he’s in front of you. and he’s tall, muscular, with hands that could crush or caress, tattooed in a way that makes your mouth dry up and water all at once.

it’s him you want to impress. you want to affect him the way he affects you, with effortless intensity. you want to pull him in, make him look at you the way he makes your world tilt on its axis with just a glance.

you’re hypnotized as you witness him in one of his rich man activities, performing a ritual with the wine glass. he brings it to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the aroma.

there’s something so practiced, so sensual in the way he handles the glass, the liquid dancing with delicate precision, as if even this simple act holds meaning. you can’t look away.

when he's satisfied, he finds you again, and your mouth is slightly open without you even realizing it. the moment he lifts the glass to his lips, you bite your own, almost harshly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

his smile is soft, but there’s something unsettling in its honesty, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

he mutters into the glass, his words resounding even stronger, “well, he’d be a fool not to fall for you.”

the implications of his comment make you swallow audibly, while he downs his first sip of the wine with fine ease, his adam’s apple bobbing with it. the whole time, his eyes never leave yours.

a thick silence stretches between you, and you wish you could break it but you don’t know how. your mind spins with the unspoken tension, but he seems entirely comfortable with it. the only sound filling the space is the quiet hum of the house.

he places the glass back on the counter, the soft clink of it slicing through the quiet. smoothly, he nudges it in your direction, his movements slow, as if testing the waters.

his voice is inviting, even more than usual, “you want some?”

”is that wine?” you instantly cringe at the way you sound strained.

he hums, a low sound of affirmation, watching you carefully.

you briefly glance at the glass, “i’ve never had it.”

”try it, then.”

with a slow twist of his fingers around the base, he slides the glass toward you. as it moves across the marble surface, you notice how he rotates it imperceptibly, but purposefully, so that the side where his lips touched the rim is now facing you.

the gesture is subtle, but the intent behind it is clear. at least to your deranged fantasies.

there’s a faint lip mark where his mouth had been, and the sight of it pulls you in, making your pulse pound in your ears. you look back up at him, finding his gaze still on you, his expression unreadable but heavy with implication.

without a word, you lift the glass, your fingers wrapping clumsily around the stem. you bring it to your lips, your mouth closing over the spot his lips had just pressed on.

the wine hits your tongue— bitter, sharp, and unfamiliar. you gulp hard, the liquid burning slightly as it slides down your throat. your face scrunches involuntarily, a clear sign of distaste. the richness of the flavor is too much for you, and you can’t help but grimace as the aftertaste lingers.

he watches, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. when you set the glass down, he effortlessly picks it back up and brushes his fingers across the rim.

his tone laced with amusement, he asks, “like it?”

you shake your head quickly, trying to hide your discomfort.

his chuckle is low, a soft rumble that makes your stomach flip. swirling the wine gently, he muses, “i heard there’s going to be alcohol tonight.”

you groan lightly, slumping your shoulders, “ugh, i know.”

the endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret meant just for you, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate, “make sure you don’t drink too much, pretty face. i’ll be around.”

just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spinning. pretty face?

what just happened? you’re not sure, but you’ve definitely stepped into something dangerous, something you can’t quite shake.

it’s hard to do so, even as the birthday party kicks off. the energy in the backyard shifts as more guests arrive. lively voices and unfamiliar faces begin to fill the space. areum’s laughter cuts through the hum, infectious and bright, drawing everyone in.

it all contrasts sharply with the weight still hanging in your chest from your earlier encounter with mr. jeon. your eyes keep darting toward the house, toward where you know he is, even though the logical part of you tells you to stop.

you stand at the entrance to the garden for a moment, taking in the scene. the subtle smell of flowers mixes with the faint scent of food, and your best friend bounces around the space, radiant in her dress. you’re genuinely happy for her, honored to share this moment.

and with your best efforts, you start engaging with others, smiling as you talk to some classmates and mutual friends, but it’s all surface-level. your mind is elsewhere.

it’s only later, as the evening progresses and the party settles into a rhythm, that you begin to relax. mainstream music plays in the background, and it inevitably involves everybody, as some classic party games become the main entertainment.

long after the cake and the gift-opening, the group gathers into a loose circle, throwing each other never have i ever questions.

you can’t help the way you all still feel like teenagers deep down, and how you get foolishly excited whenever the topic gets hot, and hints at anything that is sex related.

childish and immature, you know, but your ears still perk when the first probing question is tossed out.

“never have i ever been fingered.”

areum instantly shushes it, her eyes panickedly looking back to the house in hopes her dad isn’t around. laughter bubbles just as quickly, both because of the question and the girl’s reaction.

as expected, many reach for their drink, and you do too. the few present boys holler in a teasing manner, gaining some eye rolls.

sheepishly, the plastic cup touches your lips and you take the smallest sip from your punch. you can’t appear unbothered like your other peers, your cheeks subtly flaming as the embarrassing memories rush to your mind.

it’s silent, the small plea you telepathically send to anyone that might be listening. you pray for the topic to shift to something else, something that won’t inevitably put you at the center of the attention. something you can relate to.

but of course, god is not on your side. the questions only dig deeper, wandering in uncharted territory (at least for you), and you never reach for your glass again.

you can only sink further in your chair as everybody else around you seems even more lively with the way the game has turned, sharing their experiences, giggling as they listen, refilling their cups.

beside you, areum buzzes with energy as every question is just something for her to drink to, nothing that shocks her or that she isn’t familiar with.

never have i ever given head.

never have i ever been ate out.

never have i ever rode someone.

it’s undeniable, the way your skin heats up. with how you’ve been spending your whole day, fantasizing about the man who’s probably already asleep in his bedroom by now, your friends sharing their adventures only fuels your imagination.

you feel dirty when you put yourself in those scenarios, and for every daring moment they relive, the figure that appears beside you is always mr. jeon.

if only you turned your head, just for a moment, and glanced toward the kitchen window that faces the backyard.

you would have seen the same man dominating your thoughts, staring intently at the scene unfolding outside.

jeongguk is hidden in the shadows, the darkness of the house swallowing him whole, with every light turned off. maybe that’s why neither you nor areum notice him.

you don’t see him. you don’t feel him. you’re too caught up in the moment, too consumed by your own desires, unaware that the man that put you in that same condition is standing so close, watching.

jeongguk traces your every move with his intense gaze. he studies how your face dips down at every new question, how your smile seems just a little too tight, too forced when listening to the stories, the ones that make you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

if you don’t notice it, he does almost immediately— the way the attention in the circle shifts toward you.

the glances thrown your way become layered with a subtle curiosity, laced with something that looks like concern. but then, in the eyes of a few, jeongguk catches a faint trace of judgment.

it’s there, in the tilt of their heads, in the way they exchange fleeting looks with one another, as if they sense your unease and interpret it as something lesser. something they can pick apart.

his jaw tightens as he observes, that familiar protective instinct stirring within him. it makes his hands twitch by his side. he stays rooted in place.

eventually, the moment you clearly seem to dread the most (it doesn’t take a genius to know. it’s written on your face. or maybe, he got so used to studying you. it comes easy to him. knowing you,) follows.

it makes you want to vanish into the thin air caressing your legs, the way the question is put out with intent, an only pretending-to-be-careful tone wrapping it, all pairs of eyes instantly directed in your direction.

“never have i ever… had sex.”

you feel trapped, a momentary panic bubbling in your chest as you reach for your cup, hesitant. the rim hovers near your lips as you avoid every expectant glance, taking the smallest sip you can manage.

a murmur ripples through the circle. you can’t decipher it, too busy feeling the heat spread across your face. it’s only later that you realize no one else drank. the question had been crafted specifically for you, a silent test.

lara exhales, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “woah, i was getting worried for a second there, ___.”

you barely have time to react before areum steps in, her voice sharp in your defense, “what’s wrong with never having had sex, either way?”

“nothing, but—”

you’re not sure why you speak, and why you choose your speech that way specifically. you cut in before you even realize what you’re doing, driven by a sudden urge to explain yourself, an unshakable need to clarify forcing itself up your throat, “i only took a small sip, though.”

the group’s collective curiosity spikes, attention zeroed in on you like never before. you feel it— everyone waiting for you to continue, to reveal something you’ve kept to yourself until now. so, you give in, words tumbling out against your better judgment.

you clear your throat, straighten your back against your chair, your tone evasive, “i technically am not a virgin, but…”

the expectation drips from every person around you, their wide orbs trained on you, and for some reason you continue, gulping audibly before providing them with an explanation they don’t deserve, “when we— did it, he um… he got his tip in, but— god, this is embarrassing.”

“c’mon, tell us!”

you sigh, pressing forward with the humiliating truth, “he came, like, two seconds after. so, i felt nothing.”

the laughter that erupts is immediate, your friends covering their mouths in shock and amusement. you can only chuckle nervously, shrinking in your seat with a deep, liberating exhale.

yunjin pats your shoulder beside you, “that’s so sad, babe. we need to find you a real man.”

a strange sense of relief courses through you, the adrenaline from finally being acknowledged and validated by your friends swelling within, and you quickly learn how the buzz spreading to your body after taking part in sharing one of your experiences awakens you significantly.

you don’t know why, but you keep talking, oversharing, feeding into the newfound attention, “oh, i’ve been waiting for one in particular.”

you quickly become the center of attention for different reasons than the previous ones, now. their curiosity flares again, eyes wide with excitement as they beg for more details. who is it? tell us!

their voices overlap, but you dismiss them all with a playful shake of your head, giggles bubbling up as you try to evade their questions.

but just as quickly as the moment came, it fades when you glance to the side, and your smile drops.

jeongguk’s eyes meet yours immediately.

the intensity of the gaze knocks the breath from your lungs, the air thick between you as time seems to slow.

he’s been watching the entire time, arms crossed, the muscle in his jaw tensing as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. there’s a quiet frustration etched into his expression, a subtle irritation with your friends’ behavior. but it’s more than that. there’s something stirred by your confession.

your inexperience. your innocence. the untarnished parts of you he’s only beginning to realize he wants to corrupt.

the truth is, he’s known for a long time. longer than he’d like to admit, really. but he’s never let himself feel it fully until now.

it wasn’t something that hit him all at once. no, it crept up on him slowly, over the months. he’s always known you were beautiful, in that distant, untouchable way. you’re his daughter’s best friend, after all.

but he couldn’t help his eyes from lingering on you a little too long when you’d come over to hang out with areum, how his heartbeat would quicken up when he’d let himself be coddled by the warmth of your helping actions, the way his muscles would tense when he’d catch sight of you lounging by the pool.

he’d been good at keeping it under bay. but you weren’t subtle, not even the slightest. your fleeting glances, your breath hitching whenever he was near, your clothes putting you on display for him. it all made it harder.

even more when you’ve been nothing but the proof that angels exist, and at some point he convinced himself you were sent on earth to fill the void he felt his whole life, with your unconditional care towards his daughter and your pupils widening whenever they’d land on his.

and earlier, in the kitchen. he’s used to being in control, but the way you responded to his presence, to the compliment he gave you, had moved something deep inside him.

maybe it was seeing you tonight, all grown up and standing there in that dress, hugging your figure deliciously. how you carried yourself, confident yet unsure, mature yet untouched.

hearing you talk about your inexperience, about that brief, awkward encounter with a boy who clearly didn’t know what he was doing. watching you squirm under your friends’ teasing questions, witnessing how you tried to explain yourself.

it’s like it all clicks into place for him. and for the first time, he’s letting himself acknowledge it.

jeongguk wants you.

he knows it’s wrong. so wrong. he’s never felt this way about someone so much younger than him, and yet, the need to be the first one to truly touch you, to show you what it means to be wanted by a real man, makes his blood run hot.

it’s dangerous, the way these thoughts take hold of him now. maybe it’s the way you’ve changed lately, stepping into womanhood but still holding onto that wide-eyed innocence. or maybe it’s him. maybe he’s the one who’s changed, his resistance crumbling little by little.

he feels disgusting. selfish, his stomach swirling with nerves. dirty, his fingers twitching and begging to free his insides from such feelings.

but there’s simply no ignoring it anymore, no pretending like you’re just areum’s friend. that boundary he set in his mind is starting to blur. he’s old enough to know better, but old enough to know exactly what he wants.

your eyes widen with terror, meeting jeongguk’s own hardened gaze. he wants to tell you, wants you to know, but the way your startled expression lingers in his narrowed eyes makes him hesitate. it fills him with uncertainty, an unfamiliar feeling, one he rarely contends with.

the moment is abruptly interrupted when one of areum’s friends, an older guy she’s met through her dad’s colleague, crashes into you from behind, draping his weight over your shoulders.

you struggle not to stumble forward, holding yourself on the arms of your chair while you look to the side, and immediately try to pull away when you realize the unwanted proximity.

but it’s hard, you’re weaker than the boy’s embrace, holding you still and wiggling his eyebrows, his tone playful as he ruffles your hair, “is it me?”

the people around you laugh, the sound light and carefree, but the way your body stiffens, the clear discomfort in your eyes— jeongguk notices.

and he also notices (reluctantly) the ugly feeling making space in his stomach the more that guy’s face moves closer to yours. his jaw twitches, the muscle at his temple ticking.

he can’t just stand there doing nothing anymore.

the sudden sound of the door to the garden opening catches everyone’s attention, and your gaze flies over in that direction.

jeongguk steps out, his presence commanding, and your expression drops. areum’s eyes grow wide, instantly sensing something wrong in the way her father is looking at the scene. his eyes are too dark, too sharp, and if no one else detects it, you and his daughter surely do.

still, the taller boy behind you moves up again, taking a step back from your seat, and jeongguk seems to reserve him a look you find hard to decipher. it’s firm, heavy with a warning.

“areum,” he calls, his voice calm but edged, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

she’s quick to move toward him, and you can’t help but try to listen in on what he’s saying to her.

but the voices of your friends rise again, loud and boisterous, filling the space with chatter, drowning out any chance you had of overhearing.

you sigh, and when you return to your slumped position on your chair, you can’t ignore how all the girls around you are sneaking glances at him, their giggles piercing through the air as they whisper among themselves.

jeongguk has always had a certain effect on people, and tonight is no different. you hear some of their comments, but they don’t fully register in your mind.

all you can focus on is the bitter feeling rising in your chest.

you bite the inside of your cheek, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. it sickens you, the way you have to share the image of him with everyone else.

you wish only your eyes had been granted the gift of looking at him, of admiring the way his shirt stretches across his chest or how his hair falls perfectly, even when tousled.

but instead, he’s a spectacle for everyone to enjoy, and you hate it.

when areum returns, she’s slightly slumped over, her energy deflated. behind her, mr. jeon stands with his arms crossed, a small, condescending smile tugging at his lips.

areum’s voice is low as she announces, “the party’s over, guys.”

the subtle groans of disappointment echo around you as your friends try to protest, giving up when met with no possible negotiation. they then gather their things, saying their goodbyes and slowly trickling out, only after trying to argue about it.

once the last guest has left, it’s just the three of you, left to clean up the remnants of the night in the dimly lit garden.

jeongguk barely looks at you. his focus is elsewhere. on the mess, on areum, on anything but you.

as you bend down to gather some empty cups, you steal a look at him again. he’s helping clean up too, though his motions are deliberate and slow.

it’s silent for a while as each one of you picks up their own task. teamwork seems to be efficient, every area of the backyard slowly regaining its original aspect.

until areum yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head as she makes her way over to you and her father. she mumbles, blinking heavily. "’m so sleepy."

jeongguk raises an eyebrow, glancing at the still-messy garden, some leftover cups and plates scattered across the tables, and the chairs strewn about from the night's festivities.

he teases lightly, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "oh, really? you’re just gonna leave all this mess behind?"

for a moment, the weight of his words hangs in the air. you and areum both freeze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, unsure if he’s serious. the pause is brief, but it’s enough for tension to rise in your chest.

but then, jeongguk’s lips curl into a soft, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“just kidding,” he chuckles, his tone warm now, the joke clear. “go sleep, c’mon. it’s past your bedtime.”

areum sighs with exaggerated relief, rolling her eyes before stepping forward to wrap her arms around her dad in a loose hug. she mumbles into his chest, “i’m not a kid anymore, dad. i don’t have a bedtime.”

he chuckles with a lightness that was foreign to you until that moment, and he leans down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head, his voice low and tender as he whispers, “whatever you say. happy birthday, reumie.”

it’s such a simple moment, nothing grand or elaborate, but the intimacy of it, the quiet affection between father and daughter, makes your heart clench.

you watch them with stars in your eyes, completely captivated by this rare portrayal of vulnerability from mr. jeon. he’s always been the composed, collected man in the background of areum’s life, but here, he’s just a father, brimming with love for his daughter.

you almost feel like an intruder witnessing such a private exchange, but you can’t pull your eyes away. every detail — his hand softly resting on her back, the delicate warmth in his eyes, the way his voice softened — it all paints a picture of a side of him you’ve rarely seen.

you want to be part of it, too. want to bask in his love, the one he keeps hidden but the same one that shapes him whole. that fills him from head to toe, never spilling, always quiet. makes him the brave man you only know through your best friend’s admiring eyes, never from his words.

he doesn’t like talking about himself, but you’d kill to know what truly goes through his mind, even for just a second. you’d gladly find a house in his brain, and you’d pay rent and everything.

when areum finally pulls away and turns to you, her expression sleepy but content, she asks, “you coming with me?”

you hesitate, glancing at the mess still surrounding you. you speak with a small, reassuring smile, only looking at your friend, “i’ll be there in a minute. i wanna help clean up first.”

she just shrugs, already too tired to argue, and heads inside. jeongguk’s eyes follow her briefly before flicking back to you.

his lips part as if he wants to say something. maybe to insist that you shouldn’t stay, or that you should go inside too. but the words never come. instead, he watches you silently for a second longer, before turning his attention back to the garden.

now, it’s just the two of you.

the quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. the subtle hum of the night seems louder now without the chatter of party guests, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze fills the air as you move around the small round tables, readjusting the chairs.

you’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting back to mr. jeon. to the protective edge in his tone earlier, to the way he’s been looking at you tonight.

but then, in your distraction, you clumsily trip over your own feet, your breath catching as you stumble forward.

before you can fall, though, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you instantly.

“oops. careful, little one,” it’s jeongguk’s deep voice murmuring close to your ear, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

your face flushes immediately, the heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck.

“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him through your lashes, feeling ridiculously small under his intense gaze.

“it’s okay,” he instantly replies, his tone so gentle it almost makes your heart falter.

silence falls again, but this time, it’s thicker, and maybe even uncomfortable. you both remain still for a moment, his hand loosely gripping your arm, and you feel yourself burn where his fingers rest. his thumb brushes your skin lightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it’s enough to make you gulp audibly.

finally, he releases you, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, "thanks for making my daughter happy today. i really appreciate that. i appreciate you."

the words catch you off guard, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his voice, deeper, almost too revealing.

your mind races, trying to find the right words to respond, but all you can manage is a stutter, “oh. i—”

his voice is firmer when he gently cuts you off, “go sleep now. i’ll finish here.”

you want to protest, but the way he’s looking at you — his dark eyes locking onto yours, holding you in place even with his hand now by his side — makes it impossible.

there’s something about the way he’s speaking, like he’s being careful with his words, almost spelling them out, making sure you’re paying attention to each one, “if you need anything, you know where to find me. yeah?”

you swallow hard, nodding slowly. his gaze is unwavering, and it feels like he’s saying something more than just the words themselves, something you can’t quite grasp yet. you stammer, “right. yes. i—i’ll… goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

it’s not exactly a good night for you. in a sense, maybe it is. you always welcome dreams like these when they decide to visit. but right now, it feels more than a little awkward.

worst timing ever. you’re lying next to areum, the daughter of the very man who’s making you wet with just a few flashes of imagery dancing behind your closed eyelids.

at first, it’s soft, almost serene. you see a beach, engulfed in warm, blurry tones that blend together like watercolors left to bleed in the sun. the sea is flat, unmoving, and glimmers like pearls under the flaming light.

a weight presses down on your exposed thigh. the sensation feels so vivid that it pulls you deeper into the dream, and as you glance down, you instantly recognize the large, familiar hand resting there.

jeongguk’s hand. his left one. on the fourth finger, a gold ring.

when you lift your head, his face greets you with a wide, unusual smile. his hair is wet, slicked back as if he’s just come out of the water, droplets clinging to the tips.

but the softness of the look he gives you is replaced by something more dangerous, more daring. he bites his lip, and you see it.

a double piercing sits on the side of his mouth, the silver studs gleaming as he plays with them using the tip of his tongue. your breath catches in your throat. you don’t just see it there.

on his eyebrow, a matching piercing catches the sunlight, giving him a rebellious edge.

you remember them from old pictures areum showed you once. jeongguk, in his younger days, rougher, wilder, and undeniably charming.

it must have left a deep impression on you because your subconscious has dug it up now, weaving it into this dream. deep in your slumber, you unconsciously whine.

his hand kneads the soft skin of your leg, and his grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling into familiar crescents, but with an edge you’ve never seen on him before.

"you wanna take another bath?" his voice is husky in your ear, filled with suggestion. he’s leaning in now, closer, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin.

your throat feels dry, your pulse quickens, and before you can say anything, his hand slides higher, fingers grazing the hem of your swimsuit. his breath fans over your face, and suddenly, the sea behind you isn’t the only thing that feels like it's burning.

"come on. just you and me."

before you can even think to answer, your surroundings shift. the beach, once hazy and peaceful, morphs into something more private.

you’re no longer in the open air, but sitting at the border of his pool, both your feet grazing the warm water.

jeongguk’s hand is still playing with the laces of your bikini, and he’s slow and teasing as he pulls one of them. when he fully undoes it, you’re bare in front of him.

but he doesn’t look down just yet. he keeps staring in your eyes, his smile gone now, replaced with something more serious, more focused.

jeongguk leans closer to your ear, his lips brushing your lobe, and it feels way too real when he whispers, “let me make you feel good.”

it’s with a jolt that you wake up, the low sound still echoing in the depths of your brain, and you struggle to take in your surroundings at first.

on your right, areum is sleeping soundly, even snoring softly. you'll tease her about it in the morning.

but if the thought initially puts a smile on your face, it morphs into a frown when you register the reason why you’re now awake, and you brim with guilt.

you have to get away from your best friend. need to get away from your brain, if possible. wash it all with a glass of cold water.

you make sure not to cause too much noise as you slowly sit up, the covers falling from your figure and the air welcoming you with goosebumps on your skin.

your naked feet tentatively touch the ground and you force yourself to stand on them, padding on the floor and exiting the room, gently closing the door behind your shoulders.

at first, you only hear it. faint, muffled noises; fussing; heavy panting; groans.

you blink rapidly, convinced your hazy brain is still cozily wrapped around the blankets, finding it hard to let go of the images that had flashed behind your eyelids and adapt to the new state of consciousness.

but as you make your way to the stairs, the sounds get closer, and more vivid. it’s not just your mind playing evil games, anymore.

it’s shushed moans, and eager whines. and they seem awfully close to how you’d always imagined mr. jeon would sound like. in that situation.

having lost control over your own brain a long time ago, it feels like you’re now being ordered around by it, no freedom of choice whatsoever.

your feet move on their own, following the source of that delicious music, and you swear your eyes get teary with joy when you find that the door was left ajar.

you feel delirious. the small gap is more than enough to give you a view into what you never thought you’d have the honor of witnessing: the man of all your desires has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing it, then dragging it up and down in slow movements that you just know are torturing him, from the way he harshly bites his lower lip, to the way his furrowed eyebrows almost meet at the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on his doings.

nonetheless, he loves it. his mouth opens every time he brushes the tip of his thick dick with his palm, releasing small whines, followed by quiet moans when he uses his other hand to play with his balls.

he cusses repeatedly, then grips his base and halts his movements. only to go over the punishing pattern again, bringing himself closer to the edge then retraining when he feels like stepping over it.

the sight of mr. jeon edging himself makes your knees weak. it takes over you physically, you genuinely have to find support in the wall beside you.

you need to be there with him. you need it to be your hand; need him to guide it just the way he likes it; need him to teach you how to please him. his groans make your head spin, and you need to get closer.

you’re not thinking when you instinctively take a step towards the slightly open door, but when you do, the floor cracks under you.

you’re paralysed. in the silence of the house, wrapped in night time, the otherwise small sound is amplified, and he stops his hand.

with the little power you still possess over your actions, you move your back to the wall beside the door. your breaths are ragged, too overwhelmed with the mixture of fear and lust, and you think of running away to hide but a huge weight is chaining you down, and you find yourself unable to move.

you can only register fussing from the other side, the soft thump of his feet on the floor and the door opening alarmingly. when he looks to the side, he’s met with his expression mirrored on your small face, your eyes wide but willing themselves to keep looking in his.

if you were to look down, you’re not sure you could keep yourself composed, knowing his cock is hard and unattended in his pajama pants.

“___? what are you doing up?” his voice quickly takes on the calm that characterizes him so well, instilling some of it in your startled figure.

still, you stutter all throughout your answer, making it clear what you just spied into with the way your face changes color, “i— water. i wanted— there’s no, huh, water in the fridge.”

mr. jeon does a weak job at hiding the confused amusement on his features. nonetheless, he nods, a small grin on his lips while he says nothing, just walks to the stairs and makes his way down them. you follow hastily, careful not to trip.

there’s plenty of water in the fridge, but he doesn’t question it. he takes out a bottle and pours a glass for you, sliding it over the counter.

you take the smallest sip, afraid you might choke with the way he stands facing you, staring so intensely into your orbs.

when you put the still full glass down, he smirks. you see his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him, “nightmare?”

the depth of his voice translates into heat pooling right in your lower stomach and staining your shorts. you’re a mess just from the blurred sight of him. you shake your head, “more like… a weird dream.”

he smiles fondly, having to break the prolonged eye contact and look elsewhere, his grip getting tighter and his patience wearing thin.

he won’t be able to control himself much longer if he doesn’t get out of this kitchen, especially with the effects of your effortless charm flooding down his pleading dick.

you’re in front of him, eyes full with a feeling that scares him, only the counter dividing your bodies, and you’re wearing the tiniest satin shorts paired with a white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, the cut dangerously low and your nipples evident through the material.

he’s a gone man.

his eyes no longer anchoring you, your gaze automatically travels to where you shouldn’t be looking, for your own sanity. but the outline of his cock is so delicious, it makes your mouth water with want.

you’re not sure if it’s your own eyes deceiving you, but you swear you can see it throb, and at that moment you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. just thin, loose pants covering his length.

you gulp, clenching around nothing. you feel him sigh, and the sound makes your head spin with greater force.

he looks back at you, but you’re too enthralled by your current view, the effects of it almost completely shutting out your hearing and your rational thinking, as you round the counter and leave his words hung in the air, “i’m sorry for… what you probably saw. should’ve closed the door.”

apology silently dismissed, or simply ignored (why would he even apologize for blessing you with such an unforgettable sight?) you now stand next to him. as he turns to you, you’re faced with his chest, and you have to bend your head upwards to meet his curious eyes.

your body has long forgotten to trust the thin amount of rationality that could still be found in your brain, and that’s how you find yourself leading your hand to cup his cock through his pajamas.

his face is stoic, staring at you intensely. he doesn’t startle, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t move away. but you feel him. if the contact does something to him, he doesn’t show it. he keeps looking down at you, in your eyes.

then, he speaks, his voice steady, “what are you doing.”

you’re suddenly aware of your actions, and you fall victim to them, feeling small because of his stern, composed gaze while you melt under it.

your voice is frail, barely a whisper, too weak to sound as convinced as you truly are, and your words come out slurred, “wanna help you.”

he doesn’t break, doesn’t seem affected by your desperation, but his pupils are blown out, knuckles white from grasping the counter, “you already did enough.”

your hand is still on his dick, unmoving. no one dares break the moment, though. if anything, being this close to him, feeling him while you both search for something in each other’s eyes, is only spurring you further.

you get on your tip toes, your perky nipples brushing against his chest, your voice low while you tilt your head to the side, “what were you thinking of? i’ll be that for you.”

immediately, his hand flies over yours. he doesn’t move it, just holds it still. the look in his eyes is a lot darker, his eyelids droopy, his jaw clenched, “stop this.”

the electrifying spark that buzzes you the moment you feel his skin travels from your hand to your whole body, and it significantly weakens you.

you don’t know if you fall to your knees because they genuinely give up on you, but it’s how you find yourself facing his hardness, your eyes never leaving his glossy ones, highlighted by the dim light shining through the curtains of his kitchen.

“___. get up.” there’s a tremor in his voice, and the hand that was blocking yours now falls by his side, twitching.

you see it in his eyes. sense it in the tension of his muscles. he’s holding back. but you don’t want him to resist you.

“please,” your beg is muffled and quiet, your nose brushing against his length and following a torturous path that makes him hiss.

he groans deliriously, willing himself to tear his orbs off your big, pleading ones staring up at him, but he doesn’t do anything to move you away.

“fuck,” the chuckle that follows is feverish, his body on fire with the forbidden, but so wanted touch, “don’t make me have to reject you, doll.”

“you don’t have to,” you’re unexpectedly quick in your answers, your conscience coming back to you but letting it be taken over by a dark feeling, the one that makes you kiss his tip through the thin material, and lick along his length, finding his eyes, “i want you.”

jeongguk inhales, his lower lip bleeding with the harsh biting, and he swears his knees are shaking with the effort of keeping even the slightest, thinnest thread of sanity intact.

he wishes he could stop you. knows he should. but he can’t. he can only watch as your slim fingers hook under the hem of his light pants and lead them to pool down his ankles.

the way his cock springs free and brushes your smooth, pure face makes him huff out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he takes in your eyes widening at the sight of his length.

mr. jeon is long. and thick. he’s veiny, and perfectly shaved. it looks almost unrealistic, but he’s in front of you in all his glory and he throbs. leaks pretty precum to coat his angry tip.

he doesn’t know how he manages to speak, especially when you look up at him through your droopy eyelids, pupils blown and tongue ready to take him.

his voice is rough, as if it wants to stay stuck in his throat, but he forces one last warning out, “___. don’t do it.”

any and all kinds of inhibitions are nonexistent the moment you attempt a kitten lip at his wet tip, and the simple action makes his head fall backwards, a way too loud growl escaping him.

his breaths are heavy, broad chest moving with them as he looks down at you again, too tempted to look elsewhere.

he curses as soon as he does, his lust-filled orbs swimming in your equally craving ones, and he believes this view is crafted by the hands of a god, not slightly comparable to anything his mind came up with back in his room, not too long ago.

the reason why he’s gotten rock hard under his covers, it’s you. the yearning he couldn’t suppress anymore, the hunger making him salivate, the need to be consumed by your love, the desire to be touched by you, to be cured by your innocence, only to taint it.

he’s thirsty, wants to drink all of you in. wants to finally have you, taste you, feel you. he’s tired of fighting it.

jeongguk doesn’t know how to decipher his heart doing literal flips in his chest when you fully take his cock in your mouth, and he lets out a sound he’s never heard his own self ever produce.

it’s high-pitched, whiny, delirious, and it leads himself to subtly push himself forward, to bury his length in your throat.

you inevitably choke at the new sensation, your eyes fluttering shut to keep the tears welling up under your eyelids from spilling out, but you go relentlessly, just as hungry.

you tentatively bob your head up and down his length, messily taking him as best as you could, probably accidentally scraping him with your teeth a few times, and you try to make up for it with your swirling tongue, slurping thirstily.

he almost coos at your eagerness, and as badly as he wants to bask in the sensation, having to keep himself from pounding into your mouth, he holds your silky hair in a ponytail and gently pushes you away.

when you find him again, your eyes are glossy and your eyebrows drawn up with worry.

you don’t want this moment to end. you don’t want your insecurities to be proven right, don’t want him to ward you off, to still think of you as nothing more than a childish girl with an evident crush. you’re on your knees for him to finally see you.

jeongguk instantly reads your thoughts.

his voice is quick to sooth you, a sweet smile painting his face with an expression you rarely see on him. it’s soft, just like his voice, “come up here, angel.”

you want to listen to him, want to follow his every order. but you’re not sure how to when he’s regarding you with a care you’d never thought would be directed at you, one that empties you of any strength. when the pet name rolling off his tongue that easily seems so natural, you want to think it’s all he’s ever seen you as.

with a delicate tug at your hair, he leads you on your feet again. but you’re weak, your chin falling on his chest as you look at him through your lashes like he’s hung every single star in the sky.

his hand leaves your locks only to cup your face, promptly helping you stand straight to study your features.

if he didn’t know better, he’d say you’re high off the strongest substance you could find. your pupils cover your orbs in a dark, wide circle, a lazy smile on your pink lips as you let yourself be handled by him, no control over your body, almost falling over his bigger one again before he steadies you by your hips.

he lets out an amused chuckle at the state you’re in because of him, and he hopes you know just how much you’re affecting him, too. he wants to swallow you, pill after pill, overdose on you.

when he’s sure you don’t need his help keeping you still anymore, leading your palms to rest on his wide shoulders, he takes your face in his big hands and forces you to swim in the intensity of his gaze.

his words are spoken slowly, a low whisper fanning over your lips, “if i kiss you now, i won’t be able to control myself anymore.”

your eyes jump relentlessly between his own orbs and his mouth, the latter winning the battle when you fixate on it, and speak just as weakly, “please, kiss me.”

you barely manage to get the words out before jeongguk is all over you. he devours you, pushing your lips open and finding your tongue, playing with it in a mess of slick and heavy breaths.

his fingers travel through every angle of your body they can find, pulling your face impossibly closer by your nape, leaving goosebumps along your bare arms wrapping around his neck, falling down your torso and squeezing harshly as they rest by your sides.

your moan is inevitable when his palms reach down the curve of your ass and shove you against him. you feel his hardness meet the softness of your lower belly, his wet tip poking at it and making him hiss on your lips.

he does his best to swallow all your sounds, your muffled whines and whimpers his favorite meal as of now. it’s a wince of slight pain that you let out as he positions you in between his body and the counter, the border pressing on your lower back.

when he moves from your kiss, even with your lungs being unable to breathe anymore and begging for a break, your head follows his movements to try and bring him back on you again.

the chuckle he lets out is almost belittling, the right side of your face being completely engulfed by his palm to put distance between your mouths, his other hand keeping you still by your waist, and his own hips push against you.

you quickly glance down to where your bodies meet, and you whimper when you take in the way his cock is just above your core, his balls brushing against your clit. you only need to lift yourself a little forward to fully feel him.

but it’s like he instantly knows what’s making your head spin, his grip tighter but still mindful not to hurt you. the sudden squeeze has your eyes finding his, feeling ridiculously smaller under the weight of his heavy gaze.

he makes sure you keep your whole focus on him, and as much as registering the way your orbs are glossy with anticipation and desire is making him almost regret his next words, he lets them out, steady but soft, in your face.

“you had your fun, baby. now, you’re going to listen to me. hm?”

this time, your reaction comes promptly following his request. you’re hanging from his lips, tracing their every move and sound, immediately nodding at the order.

but it’s not enough, and jeongguk ensures to sound a bit firmer, ”use your words.”

”yes, mr. jeon.”

the way your response rolls off your tongue with seemingly no hesitation, your pupils still on his, the words you choose to say, make him let out an amused chuckle.

your eyes widen, and he drinks in your state, cheeks flushed and lower lip trembling. you need to bite it in order for it to stop shaking when he narrows his eyes, his left palm rising from your hip and finding its way under your top, his remark making you startle, ”you’re such a bad girl. aren’t you?”

jeongguk makes up for the way more tears seem to well along your bottom lashes by cupping your small breast in his larger hand, swirling his thumb around your nipple, and you need to fight against the loud moan traveling its way up your throat, the chocked sound getting stuck as your mouth hangs open, your eyebrows furrowed.

but it only takes some more of his degrading tone for you to let out an unashamedly loud noise, his fingertips pinching your nipple, ”calling me that only because it gets you off. doesn’t it? you’re not so innocent after all, princess.”

he quickly swallows your sounds with his lips on yours, and both of you can’t help but hum lowly at the contact. jeongguk thinks he could keep kissing you for hours on end. but he badly wants to feel every other inch of your body, too.

unexpectedly, the kiss gets broken when he turns your body around with ease, your back now pressing against his front, and you steady your shaking figure by planting your hands on the counter.

the access to your ear comes effortlessly, he just needs to bend his head down to cover your height difference and make sure his whispered words meet you as close as possible, “i’ll give you what you want. but you need to be quiet and good for me, understood?”

you’re not sure if you should use your voice or stay silent, but your body doesn’t give you the chance to ponder over it before letting out a whiny yes. you’re not exactly being quiet, but can he blame you?

the man you’d get to talk to for more than five minutes only in your dreams is now promising you he’s going to give you what you want. and his cock is perfectly nestled in between your ass cheeks. you’re positive you’ll have to throw your shorts right in the bin after he’s done with you.

though, the scoff resounding in your ear makes you regret not even trying to lower your volume. you really want to be good for him. don’t want to disappoint him.

that’s why when he taps two fingers under your chin, without him having to express it for you, you part your lips open, tongue out. from the corner of your eye, you see the side of his face scrunched with a long dimple before he shoves the digits inside your wet mouth.

you instantly wrap yourself around his thick fingers, coating them in your warm slick, and you can tell it’s affecting him with the way the hold on your hip tightens, and he shifts between your thighs.

with your tongue swirling around the two digits, your eyes search for his face. looking up at him through your lashes, you clench around nothing when you take in the effortless way he towers over you, his body engulfing your whole smaller figure.

the sinful eye contact leads him to spur you on further, his voice rough with desire, “that’s right. suck on them like you would my cock.”

you hum deeply at the encouragement, fluttering your eyelids shut as you energetically bob up and down along his fingers. you think you can still feel the taste of his precum lingering on your tongue, and you whine, wishing you could have him again.

the noise gets cut from your throat when he forces his digits out, the slicky sound lustful, and it makes him groan lowly.

with his other hand, he delicately pushes your head forward to bend you over the marble counter, the same one where hours ago he passed you his glass of wine to take a sip from.

the surface is cold against your cheek and he’s out of your vision as he stands straight. not being able to see what he’s doing, the expression on his face as you lay folded for him, makes the anticipation flood even stronger in your veins.

you feel him pull your shorts down enough to reveal yourself to him, hear him hiss as he’s enthralled by the way your pussy glistens, all for his eyes to admire.

the curse that follows is instant, “fuck. no panties?”

you’re embarrassed for your straightforward bareness, whimpering at his surprise with your fist tightening and your nails imprinting crescents in your palms, but you’re also so impatient to feel his touch.

tentatively, you wiggle for him, hoping to brush against his length, but it’s to no effort as he instantly stills your movements with a hand on your lower back.

he scoffs incredulously, feeling your bare ass against his palm, “it’s like you knew this would happen. you dirty, naughty girl. always giving me those eyes.”

it’s light, the spank that meets the side of your butt, but you gasp nonetheless. you need to bite your lower lip harshly in order to suppress the loud moan from escaping your throat, and you’re sure it bleeds when he softly strokes the spot he hit.

the hand soothing you now travels to your front, torturously putting pressure on your sensitive stomach and following a slow pattern, only to reach your wet core.

he finally touches you where you’ve been needing him the most, and you both groan when he uses his already soaked pointer and ring finger to spread your lips, his middle one tracing your slit.

you inhale deeply as he repeats the motion, and when you exhale you can’t help small whines from leaving you, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

you feel like passing out when his body weight presses on you again, his mouth directly on your lobe, the intention in his voice dripping on your skin, “you think i wouldn’t notice? you know how hard my cock gets everytime i see you in these tiny clothes of yours, huh? you’re quite literally the death of me, doll.”

then, it’s like all your senses come back to you the moment he pushes his digit in, and he immediately reaches around you to put his other hand over your mouth the second he sees it opening, your eyes rolling up.

you scream in his palm, the sound muffled with his fingers tightening under your jaw, his body still leaning on yours.

he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and stills his middle finger inside you, getting you used to his presence, “shh, princess. good baby, you’re doing perfect.”

the contrast to his earlier shaming tone only makes you whine more, your eyes squeezing closed to try and keep the noises in. you’re sure you bite his palm when he starts moving inside you, the finger curling tentatively and soon being joined by another one.

you shake your head weakly, feeling yourself reach delirium, and you manage to stammer out, “can’t— can’t do this.”

“you can baby, c’mon. you wanna be a good girl f’me, don’t you?” his tone is still low, warm breath fanning over your nape, and you melt under the sudden change in attitude.

you nod, not because you believe you can actually get through this without your heart failing and the whole neighborhood hearing you in the process, but because you do want to be his good girl.

“say it.”

“wanna be good— your good girl.”

he hums, “that’s right. i need to stretch you out if you want to take my cock.”

you choke in his wrap, now looser around your face, surprised at his words, and you clench hard at the mention of his cock inside you.

you throw your head backwards in search for more of his proximity, and you mumble nonsense, your brain completely melted, “yes! want your dick.”

“i know you do, little one,” with your head nestled between the crook of his neck, his hand now falls to your throat, and he holds you gently by it while his fingers pick up a faster pace.

he’s ruthless as he moves them inside you, effortlessly finding your sweet spot with a curl of his long, tattooed digits, and you whimper at the foreign sensation, unable to moan like you really want to.

you feel like screaming the more he keeps going, the only possible reaction to what is happening to you. one moment ago you were dreaming of this, and now it’s your reality.

mr. jeon is fingering you and calling you his good girl. his large figure is behind your smaller one bent over the counter, his palm around your throat, his hard length pressing against your ass.

the moment he uses his thumb to flick at your clit, you arch your back into him and you hear him fight to suppress a surprised moan.

“shit. you’re so impatient, sugar. dripping around my fingers. wanna taste your sweet juice, can i?” it’s a rhetorical question, hushed slurredly in your ear, because after he lets it out his fingers leave your hole, and find a new home on his warm tongue.

he purposefully moves your chin to make you a witness of his sinful action, humming deeply around the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut, his digits popping out drenched.

your mouth hangs, your tongue unconsciously peeking out as if asking to be made a participant, but jeongguk only smirks and stands straight once again, his wet hand leaving another light spank on your ass cheek, “turn around, sweets.”

you do as asked, making sure your palms are still steadying your weight on the counter now behind you, afraid your legs alone won’t be able to.

but you soon find out you won’t have to put much effort into that when jeongguk lifts you with ease and sits you on the surface, your slickness meeting the cold marble.

you don’t have to lift your head to look at him anymore, your heights now the same. but finding yourself directly in front of his hardened gaze makes you feel even more intimidated.

especially when he traces your inner thigh, his eyes never leaving yours, “every time you stand up to leave after dinner, you always leave a puddle on my chairs. and i’m left to clean it up.”

you swallow audibly at the accusation, and you can feel your eyes water once again, biting your lips to conceal the shame.

he only grins amusedly at your state, the tip of his tongue coming out to play with his lower lip. the hand on your leg now forces it to move to the side, his face only getting closer to yours, his tone deeper, “i’ve thought about licking it up, you know? but then i always stopped myself, because i knew i’d get to taste your pretty, wet pussy.”

you gasp, a shaky moan leaving you uncontrollably, and your fingers hover over his figure, wanting to find support in him but unsure whether to touch him.

he finds your mouth with a short kiss, almost reassuring, but he’s back to spitting sins the moment he lowers his face between your spread legs, and the way he looks up at you is almost scandalous.

he looks devilish, his orbs visible through his lashes, his tongue wetting his lips. he takes your uncertain hand and places it between his tousled hair, directing himself to you, instructing you how to use him.

he presses a peck above your clit, still drinking in your reactions, his smile wicked, “i knew you’d crumble soon. you little minx. going after your best friend’s dad. so naughty.”

your head is thrown backwards at his words, ones that only add to the pleasure that takes over you when he latches at your pussy, the wet sounds ungodly.

the shame and guilt mixing in the back of your mind generate a profane sense of bliss you’d never think you could reach, and even though deep down you feel dirty being confronted with the truth he sputtered out so easily, you can’t help getting off to it right now.

jeongguk is ravenous as he finds your drenched lips, lapping furiously at them and drinking the juice that continuously drips out.

he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen clit, and your hand that he himself put on top of his head now tugs at his curls, forcing him closer to you.

he’s trapped, your legs squeezing around his head, his nose nuzzled in your slit, and he can’t stop the hand that reaches to stroke his pleading dick.

you think you hear him mumble something along the lines of taste so good as he teases your hole with his wet muscle, and you’re a gone woman the moment you look down, your eyes fluttering open.

his own are closed, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose relentlessly grinding against your sensitive nub, and the way he seems so affected by the act of pleasuring you breaks something inside you.

you feel it begin to crumble when his tattooed hand reaches up to lift up your top just enough to expose your breasts, nipples hardening with the cold air and the stimulation, and they hurt deliciously when he starts kneading at your boobs, fondling them with care.

the deep hum generated from his throat vibrates against you, and the flick of his thumb around the center of your tit matched with the way your clit is being continuously abused unexpectedly leads you to your orgasm.

it’s fast, unannounced, and you find support in his hair, your body taking over your brain and relentlessly grinding against jeongguk’s face, suffocated between you, unable to stop reaching for the heavenly, and so awaited high.

your whines are frantically high pitched, but the moment he feels you cum all over his mouth everything around him disappears except you, and all he cares about is slurping you, drinking you as you let it all out because of him.

he pants, breathless, opening his eyes to witness your climax, to admire you breaking under his doings, chest swelling with pride and a primal sense of protectiveness.

when he hears you whimper the more he keeps sucking on your clit, your slim fingers pulling at his locks, he finally lifts himself up.

on the path he follows to come back up to meet your face, he finds your nipple with a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing your nub, and he smiles against it, teeth gently pinching it, when seeking with his eyes for your reaction he sees your own rolling back.

next, his mouth is on yours, smearing your wetness all over your lips and mixing it with his spit on your tongue, connecting in a frantic, hungry dance.

his forehead is on yours when he breaks the kiss, his breaths heavy, the lazy grin on his face the only thing you can focus on, hanging on his gentle words, “did so good, pretty. came so hard all over me.”

your eyes inevitably fall down to his cock, painfully hard against his stomach, the tip angry and slicked with precum.

you feel your core buzz, kissing him to conceal the unshameful desire building up so fast again, but still you can’t help from mumbling against him, “wan’ you to fuck me.”

the hum of pleasure coming from his throat reverberates on your lips, and he smiles at your confession. even chuckles, one hand resting at your hip and sliding you closer.

“that what you want, baby?” your legs wrapping around him, he kisses along your neck and travels down to your collarbones, leaving small bites to keep himself from marking you like he truly wants to.

he slips his palms under your thighs and lifts you off the counter effortlessly, and you squeeze your hold tighter around him in order to keep yourself balanced.

the new position has his cock perfectly meeting your core, your slit brushing against his tip as he walks you two over the living room couch, his mouth promptly swallowing your whimpers.

when he lays you on the sofa, he straightens himself to fully admire you. you’re sprawled for him, your hair framing your head like a halo, the sweat pearling your forehead adding to your angelic state.

your hands are on either side of your face, fingers dainty and slender, and your tank top is lifted up enough to show him your small breasts, slightly spilling from the sides.

your shorts still rest under your ass, and with a swift motion he fully takes them off you, giving him access to your center.

but the attention is taken away from your wet cunt when he lets his eyes come back up to your face, your cheek resting on your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment at his ravenous observing.

he smiles, becoming impatient with the feeling that only grows inside him, and he walks out of his pants still pooled down his ankles, taking off his loose t-shirt and letting it fall on the ground.

your eyes widen at his sculpted physique, now finally in front of you, his buff dimensions intimidating you, especially when your orbs follow his v line and put you face to face with his huge cock, so close to your watering hole.

he teases it with his length, sliding it up and down your slit, then slapping it against your clit. you arch your back, groaning.

“am i the real man you’ve been waiting for? you wanna be fucked by this big man, don’t you?” his sinful words only make you nod dumbly, becoming potty under his control.

at your eagerness, he wastes no time. aligning himself with your hole, he enters you. the stretch is deliciously painful, his tip boldly splitting you open for him.

he knows your wail is coming, so he lowers himself on you to block your sounds with his mouth. but he’s the one that needs to be silenced.

the moment he feels your tightness around his bare dick, he growls. his sounds grow more desperate as he sinks himself deeper, the grip on your waist enough to wreck you, and you’re expecting it to leave a mark.

you hum roughly against his lips, your nails scratching along his shoulder blades in search for any kind of grounding you can find.

it’s too much, his dimensions way oversized for what your hole can take, and the fact that you can’t help but grip him even tighter isn’t helping.

he reads you, your broken whines and the tear falling from your left eye, and the moment he bottoms out he stills himself, his face in the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling the warm skin in a reassuring manner, “shh, baby. i got you. let me make you feel good.”

the whispered words are the same ones that jolted you from your sleep, the dream almost too real, and paired with his middle and ring finger circling your sensitive nub they cause you to emit a pleasured squeal, your chest arching into his.

at this point, you’re afraid you’re still trapped deep in your slumber. that none of this is actually real, it can’t be.

you’re so convinced that it’s just too good to be true that you test it, scraping your nails harshly in his back, and when he bites the skin under your jaw in protest you gasp shakily.

it’s definitely real. jeongguk is fucking you. almost. not yet.

with the way your clit is being stimulated by his long fingers, the initial sharpness turns into more slick, and you impatiently groan, “fuck me, please.”

one final kiss is left on your lips before he lifts his torso up, his hands roaming along your sides and grasping a hold of your tits.

he teases you with a playful smirk on his face, your disappointed pout only resulting in a devilish chuckle from him as he massages your soft boobs.

but you can feel him throb inside you the more you swallow him in, and you know he’s just as impatient. you buck your hips up in search of friction, and the sudden motion makes the both of you moan.

he’s suddenly resolute as his palms fall to your waist and effortlessly hold you up as he begins fucking into you. with each stroke he picks up his pace, and he’s soon pounding your tight hole wrapping around him.

the two of you soon find out it’s impossible to be quiet. your sounds are stuttered and pornographic, and it makes jeongguk afraid he’s never going to be able to get them off his brain.

his own noises are heavenly, deep growls and surprised whines falling out his pillowed lips, slightly agape in bliss, brows drawn up.

your eyes roll back and never come back, your vision patched, and you think you weren’t build to survive this kind of pleasure. it’s almost deathly when he finds that one particular spot that makes you see stars.

your skin slapping is louder than his hushed speech, but he makes sure the words reach you and translate into wetness coating his length even more, drenching it, making it soaked in your juices, “that’s how you need to be fucked. that’s how my girl needs to be fucked, hm?”

“mhm, fuck, yes!” it’s breathless, but you want him to hear you. you feel yourself get closer just watching him smirk proudly at your state, his pupils blown out.

his palms are back to playing with your breast, kneading it harshly, and you enjoy the way he seems to be hypnotized by the vision, “fuck. love your tits. fit just right in my hand. you were made for me, princess.”

your head is thrown back between the cushions, your legs wrapping around his ass and pushing him even deeper, the anticipated sensation building simultaneously in both of your trembling bodies.

“i’m not gonna last long, baby. this pussy’s too tight. trappin’ me inside it,” jeongguk’s voice is rough, the words leaving him slurredly and all his effort put into snapping his hips against yours, his eyes focused on the relentless in and out motion.

you wail, mumbling nonsense, but at the same time the most sincere words you’ve ever sputtered to him, “it’s yours, jeongguk. f—fucking yours. forever. ah— fuck.”

he hums, feeling you contract around him the more he speaks to you, “that’s it. my pussy to fuck, angel. mine to play with, mine to fill up.”

your eyes widen at his territorial remarks, and when they meet his hazy ones they water with overwhelming ecstasy.

the possibility of his cum filling you up is what does it for you, your nerves undoing once again and making you spasm around his throbbing dick.

he talks you through your abrupt orgasm, praising you for cumming so good all over him, drinking in your blissful sounds and your hips rutting against his.

he’s just as close, and the realization that you came the moment he mentioned painting you in his seed makes him a crazed man, his motions stuttering sloppily, “fuck. aren’t you a naughty one, doll. you really want me to cum inside you? you want it, huh? i bet you do.”

your repeated nodding and the way your body is so pliant in his hold, letting it be completely handled by him with no functioning muscle, pervades his senses with a primal force that he puts all into fucking your sensitive cunt.

he smirks wickedly, “you’d look so pretty. all stuffed. want me to fill up this tight pussy? want my mature cock in so deep you can’t breathe?”

you think you scream at his continuous suggestions, but you can’t be sure when all your senses are clouded, the oversensitivity turning you into a literal doll for him, no power over your actions.

he looks just as fucked out, his lips parting as he basks in the feeling of being in control of you, his eyes fighting to stay open and keep you in his vision.

when he feels you contracting around him in overstimulation, his breath stutters and he feels himself reach the peak, quickly pulling out of you to spill his cum over your naked skin.

you gasp at the sudden emptiness and the warm liquid that keeps falling over your stomach, his cock being pumped in his fist and milked from all he can give you.

you both pant in exhaustion, your legs loosening their grip around him as he dips his weak knees on either side of you on the couch.

he hums when he fully takes in your figure, marked by his cum, and he smiles when he sees your eyelids struggling not to fall.

but you spasm once again when you feel his finger slide over your stomach, the wet liquid being collected, “now, you gonna clean this up for me. open your pretty mouth, baby.”

you don’t even ponder on the request, you just follow the order. your brain is reduced to thoughts that are only related to him, and it automatically complies to anything that he asks from you.

you engulf his digits promptly, swallowing his semen, looking up at him through your lashes and unashamedly clenching at his lazy smirk.

he makes sure every drop of his is collected and sucked by your hungry mouth, smiling when you don’t ever complain, “mh, good girl. get them neat.”

when he’s satisfied, he hovers over your face and finds your tongue in a sensual, slow kiss, both of you moaning at the exchange.

with a sloppy sound, he parts from you only to disappear between your thighs, his eyes mischievous, “gonna clean you up, too.”

you gasp at the feeling of his mouth wrapping around your core once again, slurping your juice and lapping at your inner thighs, and you’re not sure how this is going to help in getting you clean. you only feel yourself becoming even wetter, if possible.

leaving a kiss above your nub, he straightens up with a boyish smile softening his features, and with the fond way he’s looking at you, nobody could tell he just made you cum twice.

he moves your bangs from your forehead, closing the distance between you once again to leave small pecks over your still reddened face, “you did amazing, doll. made me cum so hard.”

you hum contentedly, snuggling closer to him, your body unconsciously gravitating toward his warmth. your hand lifts to thread through his hair, but before you can touch him, he shifts, pulling away.

the warmth he provided vanishes, replaced by the cold emptiness of the couch. panic surges in your chest, washing away any remnants of fatigue. you prop yourself up on your forearms, eyes tracking his movements.

you don’t want him to leave you here alone, bare and vulnerable, maybe a bit confused and uncertain, and deep down deathly scared of whatever will come after this.

your brows furrow, heart picking up a painful speed when you see he’s getting dressed—tossing on his shirt, pulling on his pants. and for a second, your heart clenches with dread. is he leaving?

but then you notice him picking up your shorts from the floor, his expression softening as he walks back to you with that same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter earlier.

relief washes over you.

he handles you delicately, as though you’re something fragile. his fingers brush your skin as he slips your shorts back on, pulling down your top before encircling your waist with his strong arms.

you squeal lightly when he pulls you onto his lap, settling back on the couch with you cradled against his chest. his hands never leave you, securing you to him.

you settle into him easily, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of his body returns, your legs draped across his lap, arms circling his neck.

for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels like it’s in its right place, like this is where you’ve always belonged. it feels so natural, so easy, being wrapped up in him.

his deep, slow breaths lull you into a state of calm. his chin rests on the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing strokes along your spine.

you press even closer, breathing him in, feeling like you could get used to this, like you already have. like you’ve always known this is where you should be.

your fingers trace absentminded patterns along his tattooed arm, the one holding you secure under your legs. you feel the need to look at him, to admire the man that marked you as his.

but when you glance up, you’re a bit startled when you notice the shift in his expression. his face is hardened, jaw clenched tight. he’s not relaxed like he was just moments ago. his gaze is distant, staring intently at a spot across the room as if lost in thought.

yet his hands continue to cradle you, almost unconsciously, like holding you has become second nature to him.

but his mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and they only scatter all over the place as he feels you move closer, impossibly so.

you seek warmth, care. nuzzle your fragile body against his for protection, something more that he fears he can’t give you. love.

he once thought he’d drained himself of it, had nothing left to offer. but now, with you in his arms, the smallest spark flickers to life, burning its way up his throat until it feels like it’s going to consume him.

he wants to give in. he wants to hold you tighter, trap you against him, keep you with him. give you love.

but he can’t do that to you. can’t make you go through the same path that took everything from him. not without ruining you in the process.

he knows what comes next. love turns into suffering. it’s inevitable.

and could he survive seeing the look on areum’s face if she ever finds out? how would she react if she knew the truth about what he’s done, about how he feels? about how he truly wants to act upon his feelings?

the thought makes him feel sick, even as his heart beats steadily against yours, comforted by your presence.

but why doesn’t he feel disgusted? why isn’t there shame gnawing at him, making him pull away? there’s only bliss. the sheer joy of having you this close, of holding you like this, makes him forget everything else.

he wishes he could be immature, for once. wishes he was your age, and that nothing truly mattered. that he still could allow himself to make stupid decisions.

maybe then, you’d feel right in his arms, and reality wouldn’t catch up to him.

“jeongguk? are you okay?”

your soft, honeyed voice pulls him from his spiral, and he startles slightly, caught off guard. his eyes meet yours, wide and filled with concern, searching his face for answers.

he tries to hide the storm brewing inside him, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “huh? yeah. i’m okay.”

of course, you don’t believe him. an ugly feeling makes space in your stomach, and the weight of everything begins to press down.

you don’t want it to take over you just yet, want to be coddled by the illusion a little more, want to try and believe there’s nothing to be afraid of.

you offer a tentative smile, hoping to ease whatever tension is growing between you. “you… you seem worried.”

“i’m not, baby. i’m just thinking.”

“about?”

“stuff.” his voice is clipped, and the small wall he’s building between you becomes clearer.

the distance stings, and your heart sinks as you try to hold onto the moment that felt so perfect just a second ago. desperate to reach him, you place your hands on his face, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze.

your eyes jump all over his, but you manage a genuine, if small, smile. “you can tell me, you know. you can talk to me.”

one simple, small smile spreading across his lips makes you doubt all of your worries. it makes you want to believe that maybe, there’s truly no reason to be scared. that maybe, this can go well.

“i know,” it’s whispered on your face, his hand coming to play with the hair that frames your cheeks sweetly. “let’s get you to bed now, hm?”

before you can protest, he’s lifting you off the couch with ease, cradling you in his arms bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all. you clutch onto him.

you feel your insides fuzzy with the gesture, and you wiggle yourself closer in his embrace, looking up at him expectantly, “your bed?”

it breaks his heart having to disappoint you, tone firm as he tries to make up for it with his thumb brushing your thigh, “no, baby. you gotta go back to areum’s room.”

“but— but… i wanna sleep next to you,” you plead, your voice small and almost childlike as you pout up at him, hoping to sway him.

he looks away, focusing on the stairs as if looking at you would break his resolve. “we can’t, dove. you know we can’t.”

his words feel like a punch to the gut, and your voice hesitates. “we can’t?”

the silence that follows is louder than any answer he could have given, and it weighs heavy between you, suffocating. there’s no actual explanation to it, and the realization leaves both of you uneasy.

at areum’s door, he sets you down gently, making sure you’re steady on your feet. he’s careful with you, like he always is, his voice low, “go wash up. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“no…”

“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make this harder.”

you frown in protest, keeping eye contact, but he doesn’t break. his gaze is steady, resolute.

you want to argue, want to push, but the exhaustion settles over you, and you slump, defeated, but you still sway sweetly for him, your hands tied behind your back, “okay… can you kiss me?”

your voice is small, muffled behind your pout as you seek for him with anticipation, a shy smile making its way on your lips.

when he doesn’t move closer, you get on your tippy toes and lean in his direction once again, your eyes almost fluttering shut before you hear him clear his throat, and take an awkward step back.

you’re back on your heels with a thump, the same one reverberating in your chest with your heart falling, your mouth hanging open with confusion written all over your expression.

you go to say something but he’s quicker, his voice solemn, “goodnight, ___.”

jeongguk smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones that took over his whole face just minutes ago on the couch, his eyes full of you. you’re not even sure if you can define it as a smile.

it’s polite, almost too polite, and it only results in feeling tremendously distant from him. he’s completely disconnected from you.

he retreats, long legs carrying him away, his back to you as he slips into his room. the door clicks shut behind him, the sound final, and it echoes in the hollow space.

you stand still, the weight of his absence pressing heavily on your chest. the spot where he left you feels like a grave, your feet sinking into the cold floor as if it’s pulling you under. the warmth he offered, the fleeting sense of safety, is gone, and you’re freezing.

you try to breathe, but the air feels sharp, your throat tight with the effort to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. it’s useless, though.

your bare feet shuffle against the floor, but you can’t move forward. you can’t go back. you can’t do anything except stand there and feel the weight of it all crash down on you.

you’d been so afraid this would happen. how could you have been so foolish? even in the midst of the sweetness, you knew it was too good to be true. a part of you always knew.

and yet, you let yourself believe for a fleeting moment that something real could come from it. that you could be enough.

you’d have done anything to prove it to him. to show him your loyalty, your willingness to make it work. you still would. you’d give him every part of yourself, if he’d only take it. if he’d only look at you the way you want him to.

the full weight of your reality sinks in. in the end, none of it was truly real.

a sob breaks free from your chest, raw and painful. the sound echoes in the quiet hallway, bouncing off the walls that now feel oppressive, like they’re closing in on you. this house, every corner, it’s all stained now, tainted by the lie you let yourself fall into.

and you? you feel tainted, too.

[earthchica]

Make It Right

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: Terry makes it right and apologizes to you for his words and his behavior; soon, you and Terry talk through your issues, getting a better understanding of each other and rebuilding your communication.

warnings: angst, slight communication issues, serious conversation, explicit smut (18+), light daddy kink, oral (f), rough pent-up sex, making out, flirting, fluff, domestic life, romantic dinner, family vacation, nicknames [ baby, sweetheart, mama, baby girl & more ] words: 5k

note: please enjoy, but there may be some errors.

sequel to { funny how time flies } mini-series masterlist previous chapter { everything I ever wanted }

You heard the soft creak of the bedroom door as it opened and then shut, the sound echoing in the quiet bedroom. Suddenly, a familiar warmth enveloped you as Terry wrapped his arms around you, trying to pull you into an embrace.

You could feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, but frustration bubbled up inside you. “Get off of me, Terry!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp and annoyant as you firmly shoved him away.

You shifted towards the head of the bed, separating you from the man you hurt your feelings. Terry stood there, a blend of guilt and despair washing over his features.

“I’m sorry, baby. I-I,” Terry stammered, his words tumbling out in a rush as his eyes roamed your face, searching for a glimmer of understanding.

The remorse in his gaze was sincerity, which struck a deep chord within you. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” He sat on the bed and moved closer, extending a hand as if trying to bridge the emotional depth that had formed between you.

“I’m so grateful to have you; you’re such an incredible wife and an amazing mother to our son.” His voice cracked slightly, laden with the weight of his apology, as he pleaded for you to see the truth in his words.

"No, why would you say you're tired of me? How could you say something like that to me of all people?" you yelled, your voice rising as a flood of emotions engulfed you.

A mix of anger and hurt made your heart race. "Baby, I didn't mean—" Terry started to respond, his voice still remorseful, but you couldn't let him finish.

You cut him off, allowing your pent-up emotions to spill like water gushing from a broken dam.

"Do you even grasp how I've been feeling these past few months?" your voice trembled, each word charged with frustration and hurt. "It feels like I'm carrying the whole load on my shoulders, all alone."

"If you’ve been feeling this, why didn't you communicate that to me? You know I'm not a damn mind reader!” Terry shot back, his tone rising and more urgent.

"So it's my fault again?” you retorted, your frustration boiling. “Why don't you take some accountability for once, Terry? You used to know how to support me or recognize when I was struggling without me having to spell it out for you."

Your words hung in the air, charged with the weight of unspoken expectations and the longing for understanding that felt increasingly out of reach.

Terry took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he faced you directly, the moment's weight heavy between you. “Look, I know I messed up badly,” he began, his voice low and sincere.

“I hurt you, and that’s not right. I should have never said I was tired of you. That was just disrespectful. You deserve so much better than that.”

Terry paused, searching for the right words, his eyes filled with regret. “I see how hard you work every day taking care of our son. You do everything for our family; I have taken that for granted. I haven’t been there like I should have been, allowing my frustrations to cloud my judgment.”

Terry stepped closer, his hands outstretched, palms up. “I got no excuses. What I said was wrong, and I’m ashamed of it. You’ve been carryin’ so much, I’m sorry, for real. I wanna make it right, whatever it takes. I'll support you better, listen more, and be the husband I know I can be.”

As he spoke, you could see the love and remorse etched on his face—deep lines of worry creased his brow. But it was hard for you to process his words fully at that moment.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the anger decrease slightly. "I hear you, Terry,” you said softly, almost dismissively. “But right now, I just need some space…I think you should sleep on the couch.”

You get off the bed to grab your shower cap, go to the bathroom, and close the door. You hear Terry leave the bedroom, the silence filling the space again.

After your shower, you take your time with your night routine, meticulously applying your skincare products as if the physical act could somehow cleanse the emotional turmoil still swirling inside you.

Each motion rhythm felt almost meditative, yet the weight of the conversation earlier loomed heavily in your mind. You are dressed in a comfortable tank top and pajama shorts, feeling the fabric against your skin, a small comfort amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

Finally, you climbed into bed, the sheets cool against your skin, but the emptiness beside you felt overwhelming. The thought of Terry not being close to you despite the hurt made the room quiet.

You wrapped the thick blanket tightly around you, trying to find solace in the familiar fabric, yet you couldn't shake off the need for his presence.

Deep down, you craved the warmth of his body next to yours, the security you felt when he embraced him, even if your heart still stung from his words.

With a shaky sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and decided to seek him out. You padded down the hallway, glancing at the clock—it was already late, and you wondered how long you’d been lost in thought.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, the sight of him slumped over on the small loveseat in the living room tugged at your heart. His long frame seemed crammed into the little seat, the edges of the cushions barely accommodating his size.

“Terry…” you called softly, barely rising above a whisper. He lifted his head at the sound of your voice, eyes widening with surprise and a hint of hope.

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his voice thick with fatigue. “Um...” you started, crossing your arms over your chest, unsure how to proceed.

The remnants of the hurt and irritation still lingered, yet the sight of his uncomfortable state and weary expression stirred something inside you.

“Come to bed,” you said softly with no expression, and his expression shifted to relief. “Are you sure?” Terry asked, a mixture of cautious optimism laced in his tone.

“Yeah, just…come on,” you replied, trying to sound more convinced than you felt. Terry was always so imposing as he stood up but looked helpless and small.

Without another word, he followed you back upstairs, and the silence between you felt thick. As you entered the bedroom, you climbed back into the bed, the sheets still warm where you had been.

Terry lingered by the door momentarily, hesitation clear on his face. “Are you still upset?” he asked, his voice soft yet heavy with concern. “I am,” you replied, not wanting to lie or sugarcoat the situation.

“But I don’t want to sleep alone. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow when we’re both in a better headspace.” You said softly. Terry nodded, understanding and regret evident in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, he climbed into bed beside you, leaving a respectful and cautious distance between you. The silence hung between you until it was almost suffocating, but neither knew how to break it.

Instead, you both lay there, staring at the ceiling and pretending to be asleep. Eventually, sleep found its way to you both. The night felt long, but eventually, morning came with the promise of a new day.

As the sun peaked through the curtains, you stirred awake first, feeling the warmth of Terry's body against you, and you glanced over at him; your heart softened just a bit as you watched him breathe softly.

After last night's argument, some of you wanted to stay angry and distant from Terry, but another part just wanted things back to normal. You knew in your heart that you two would work this out somehow.

You turn over, gently reach over, and place your hand on his cheek before returning to sleep. Terry stirred slightly and cracked open an eye if you felt your touch even in his sleep.

Terry softly smiled at your sleepy state, knowing he had to make things right. He reached for his phone, the soft glow illuminating the dim room.

Sitting up, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for a tough day ahead—not at work, but at home. He scrolled through his contacts, dialing in to call your uncle.

“Hey, Uncle Eddie,” he said after a few rings. “I won’t be coming in today…yeah, personal reasons. I need to be home…Okay, thank you.” As he hung up, he glanced over at you, still half-asleep.

Terry slid out of bed quietly, careful not to wake you. Padding softly to the baby’s room, he gently lifted Elijah from the crib. Cradling him in his arms, he marveled momentarily at how small and innocent his son looked.

“Good morning, little man,” Terry whispered, bouncing Elijah slightly as he went downstairs to the kitchen. He set the little one in the high chair, securing him safely with the straps.

The baby’s sleepy gaze slowly transformed into a wide-eyed curiosity as he watched his daddy move about the kitchen. With Elijah happily sitting in his chair, Terry began preparing breakfast.

Terry rummaged through the fridge, pulling out eggs, milk, and fresh fruit. As he cracked the eggs into the skillet, their sizzling brought a sense of calm.

Cooking had always been a form of therapy for him. “Let’s get you some breakfast, too, huh?” he chimed to Elijah as he quickly poured him a bottle.

Terry could hear Elijah's soft noises of delight, making focusing easier. Deep down, he hoped that doing this would show you his sincerity.

After feeding Elijah, Terry made a generous portion of the breakfast for you and himself and set the table. As you wake up to an empty bed, you glance at the time and feel slightly panicked.

However, you hear Terry's voice through the baby monitor, talking to Elijah in the kitchen about you, hoping this would be the start of you forgiving him for your argument last night.

As you got out of bed, rubbed the sleep from your eyes, went to brush your teeth, and washed your face before strolling downstairs towards the kitchen.

The aroma of breakfast wafting through the air, making your stomach rumble. Terry turned as he caught sight of you, a sheepish smile lighting up his face.

“Morning,” he said warmly, his voice brightening the atmosphere. “I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorite,” he added; you tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “My favorite?”

“Yeah,” he replied, setting a plate on the table before you. “Eggs, pancakes, bacon, and fresh fruit. I know you usually love a little bit of everything.”

As you sat, Elijah babbled enthusiastically in his high chair, excited to see both of you. You couldn’t help but smile at your son and kiss his forehead. "Good morning, baby boy"

You started to eat, the first few bites eliciting a sense of normalcy you desperately craved. “Thanks for making breakfast, Terry,” you said softly, focusing on Elijah. “It smells amazing.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” Terry admitted, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I know.....last night. I hate that we left things unresolved.”

You looked up from your plate, gauging Terry’s expression. His eyes were sincere, mixed with an undercurrent of regret. “Yeah, I appreciate that you’re trying this morning.”

Terry nodded slightly, the weight of his guilt apparent in each motion. “I just want you to know again I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it. I was just frustrated, and I didn’t handle it well.”

You paused before responding. “I get that, Terry, but when you said that to me...my heart broke, and I thought we were locked on this, I thought-.”

“I know,” he replied, his tone dropping to a more serious level. “It’s just so hard sometimes, balancing everything— Elijah, work, our marriage. I let the stress get the best of me and took it out on you.”

"Well, I think we really need to work on our communication because ever since Elijah was born, I feel like we've lost sight of that strength we've built," you said, your voice filled with realization.

Terry acknowledged the tension in his shoulders, easing just a bit. “You're right. I've noticed it, too. I miss how we used to talk, how we could share anything without worry.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of those words resonating deeply. “Yeah, me too. Remember those late-night talks we used to have? We'd stay up for hours just dreaming about our future, making plans together. Now it feels like we're just trying to survive the day.”

“Yeah,” he said, his expression softening. “I want to go back to that. “We have to find a way to carve out time for us, even if it's just small moments here and there.”

“What do you think that looks like?” you asked, genuinely curious. “How can we make it happen?” you added. Terry took a moment, clearly contemplating.

“Maybe we could set aside a few minutes each night after Elijah goes to bed. We could just talk about our day or even watch something together. Something light and fun.”

“That sounds nice,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face. “I would love that. But I also think we need to be able to have those conversations when things get tough. It can't all be about being positive; we must address the heavy stuff, too.”

Terry thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You're right. I think it's so easy to avoid conflict, thinking it will just resolve itself. But it won't, will it? We have to face it head-on before resentment builds up.”

“I can be guilty of that too,” you admitted, feeling the weight of the past few months crash over you. “I've been just bottling things up instead of expressing my feelings. It’s easier to keep the peace, even if it eats away at me.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his gaze steady on you. “But I promise to do better. I want to hear what you say, baby, no matter how difficult. I care about your feelings and will be a better husband; I want to be a better husband.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “Thank you, Terry. That means a lot, and you are a good husband and a father. We're in a tough patch, and I'm sure we'll get through. I want you to feel the same way. We need to make this a mutual effort. If I ever say something that bothers you, please don't hesitate to let me know.”

Terry reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. “You have my word. And I hope you know I'm committed to strengthening our marriage. There's nothing more important to me than you and Elijah; “I love you, baby.”

"I love you too, Terry." With those words lingering in the air, you both shared a transformative moment of understanding. It wasn't an immediate solution to all your problems, but it was a solid step.

-

The past few weeks have been a turning point for both of you. Communicating openly like you used to, sharing your thoughts and feelings without the weight of tension lingering in the air, had lightened the load on your heart.

As you and Terry cuddled on the couch, the warmth of his body against yours felt comforting. The lamp's soft glow lit the room just enough to create an intimate atmosphere.

You watched Elijah through the baby monitor, sleeping peacefully in his crib. “Wow, you came through, huh?” you said playfully, playing with his ears.

“I feel like I barely had to lift a finger with the housework and Elijah. You got my back like that?” You said with a smile. Terry chuckled, leaning closer to you.

“Well, if I keep you happy, it’s a win-win situation, right?” He pretended to flex his muscles, and you both laughed at the moment's silliness.

“You’re so crazy,” you teased, smirking at him. “But real talk, I appreciate it. I feel like I can finally breathe again. It’s been a minute since we had this together.”

“Right? I missed this, alot, I mean a lot a lot ” Terry expressed, his face turning soft. He brushed his thumb along your cheek, making your heart flutter.

“You know I love you, sweetheart, I wanna see you shine and be happy,” Terry said, and you smiled, feeling a little bashful under his gaze.

“Aww, Terry, I love you too so much. I know I can get caught up in my head often, but having you step up like this? It just makes me feel so much better.”

Terry leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips. “You keep saying how I stepped up, but it’s us together making it work. You’re the heart of this whole household, baby.”

Terry paused momentarily, still gazing into your eyes, and you could feel the heat rising between you. “We’ve been keeping things going in the house lately, being a team.”

“True, that's how it's supposed to be. And it feels good to be back in sync,” you responded, feeling at ease. “It’s nice to know you’re all in, and I’m all in too.”

With that, Terry leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a slow kiss. It was sweet at first, but gradually, it deepened, both of you melting into the moment as your bodies relaxed against each other.

A playful glint sparkled in his eye when he gently pulled away, hinting at a fun idea. “You know,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement.

"We should plan a little family getaway. Somewhere we can kick back and truly relax.” He said deeply low. “A vacation?” you replied, raising an eyebrow in intrigue.

“Really?” you asked, and Terry leaned closer, the enthusiasm contagious as he continued. “Yeah! How about we spend a weekend at that villa we used to visit in Cancun?"

"And we could invite your parents to join us. It would be an excellent opportunity to unplug from all the chaos and have fun.” His eyes lit up with the thought, a sparkle mirroring his excitement.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, imagining the warm sands and gentle ocean breezes. “That sounds amazing! I adore that place. It holds so many wonderful memories for us."

"—it’s where it all began. Plus, this would be Elijah's very first vacation! What a special way to introduce him to such a beautiful location.” You gasped.

Terry chuckled softly, “So, you wanna do it?” You nodded enthusiastically, a grin spreading across your face. “Let’s do it! I can already envision the memories we can make.”

Cancun, Mexico

The sun hung high in the cerulean sky, casting a warm golden glow over the peaceful Cancun shoreline as the day unfolded—a perfect Sunday morning.

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the soft, powdery sand created a soothing rhythm while a refreshing breeze played against your dark-brown skin, carrying the faint scent of salt and beach flowers.

Elijah giggled uncontrollably as he splashed playfully in the sandy oasis around him. Tiny grains of sand stuck to his little fingers and toes, glistening like miniature jewels in the sunlight.

You and your mom were fully immersed in the moment, working together to construct an elaborate sandcastle. Its towers rose proudly, decorated with seashells and bits of seaweed, as you all hoped it could withstand the approaching tide.

“Look at you, Eli! You love the sand, huh?!” you exclaimed, your heart swelling with affection. The moment's joy was captured forever as you snapped a picture of his bright smile, his hazel eyes sparkling with delight.

Elijah's laughter echoed around you, filling the air with pure joy as you and your mom continued to shape the sandcastle. Your dad strolled, still wet from his time on the jet skis, with a broad grin.

“Y’all got some serious skills over here!” he called out, surveying the castle. "That’s lookin’ like a real palace for my grandbaby!" Your mom chuckled, smoothing out a rough edge of the sandcastle.

“A palace fit for a prince! Ain’t he just the cutest?” She looked down at Elijah, who was now trying to pick up a handful of sand and giggling when it slipped through his tiny fingers.

“Right?” you replied, grinning. Your dad squatted beside Elijah, chuckling as the baby reached out toward him, his little hands covered in sand.

“Hey, Eli? Are you makin’ masterpieces over here? You tryna start a sand empire?” He asked. Elijah let out a squeal of delight, and your dad couldn’t help but laugh.

“Aww, look at that smile! He’s sayin’ ‘I got this, grandpa!’” Just then, Terry wandered back from the jet skis, a towel draped around his neck.

“What's going on? Y’all makin’ a sandcastle? I wanna see!” Terry said, leaning down, peering curiously at Elijah. “And there’s my number one fan!”

“Look at him, Terry!” you exclaimed, scooping Elijah into your arms as his face lit up at the sight of his daddy. “He’s ready to take on the beach. He’s got sand in places I didn’t even think was possible!”

Terry laughed, reaching out to tickle Elijah’s belly, causing him to burst out in another fit of giggles. “Man, how did we get so lucky? He’s a whole treasure out here!”

“Right, such a blessing!” your mom chimed in. You looked at the happy scene around you—your parents, your husband, and your precious son—and felt your warm heart swell.

“This is what it’s all about, y’all. Family!” You said softly, and Terry smiled at you sweetly. “That's right!” your dad agreed, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“We gotta make the most of these days, y’know? Family, fun, and all this love. Ain’t nothin’ better!” With everyone laughing and loving on Elijah, the sun shone brightly overhead, casting a golden glow over your little beach paradise.

Later.

The afternoon unfolded beautifully as your family gathered around the spacious dining table at the villa, sharing a delightful lunch filled with laughter and stories.

The warm sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a golden glow on the cozy living room where everyone eventually settled in. Plush cushions beckoned from the oversized sofas, and the aroma of delicious food lingered in the air.

Your parents, visibly relaxed and content, cherished their time with Elijah, engaging in lighthearted conversations that filled the room with joy and warmth.

Terry leaned over to you, a playful grin on his face. “How about a little adventure?” he whispered, eyeing your parents, who were busily playing their grandson.

“What do you have in mind, handsome man?” you asked, intrigued. Terry glanced toward your mom and dad. "Well, I would you love to take you out for dinner? Just the two of us?”

Your heart raced with excitement. “Really? What about Elijah?”

“Don’t worry,” he replied, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’ll ask your parents to watch him, so we can have some time for ourselves.” You couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of a romantic evening.

With every detail, he sparked a thrill in your heart that had been dormant for too long. “Okay, you’ve got a deal!” You said with a smile, you rushed upstairs to freshen up.

You pulled out a multicolored sundress adorned with shapes and designs. You applied some light makeup, focusing on a touch of lip gloss that shimmered in the fading sunlight.

Staring at your reflection, you felt nostalgia and excitement, feeling beautiful and ready for the evening ahead. When you returned to where your parents and Elijah were gathered, your dad raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

“Wow, look at you, miss thang! Someone’s got a hot date!” He teased, and you laughed. “Just a little dinner with Terry. He has a surprise planned for us.”

"Sounds wonderful! And you two deserve it, sweet pea." Your dad said with a light smile on his face, and your mom clapped her hands together.

“Yeah. We’ll take good care of Elijah. You both go enjoy your night!” Your mom said with a smile, and you nodded, giving Elijah a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

You met Terry at the beach's edge, his eyes lighting up as he took in your dress. “You look stunning, baby,” Terry said, taking your hand as you walked together towards the car.

The drive was filled with easy conversation and laughter. As you neared your destination, you noticed a seaside restaurant nestled under twinkling lights, music wafting from within.

“Is this our spot?” you asked, excitement bubbling. “Yup! I figured we could have a nice dinner followed by some dancing,” he said with a wink, holding the door open for you as you stepped out.

Inside, the ambiance was warm and inviting, with flickering candles on the tables and soft music playing in the background. After being seated, you both ordered and sipped on lemonade while discussing anything.

Terry leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “So, you got any plans for when we take over the dance floor, huh?” he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You chuckled softly, tilting your head. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Mr. Smooth! I’m ready to turn this place out.” You twirled strands of hair around your finger, feeling the chemistry between you.

Terry raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Oh really now? Do you think you can keep up with me? I might spin you so fast you'll forget where you are!”

You laughed, biting your lip playfully as you met his gaze. “Honey, I was born ready! Just wait till I hit you with these hips. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“Is that a challenge, baby girl?” Terry asked, feigning shock as he leaned closer. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you like a warm hug.

“Because if it is… well, I’m here for it.” His voice dipped low, drawing you in. The waiter arrived with your appetizers, but neither of you paid much attention.

Your eyes were locked in a playful duel. “You know I never back down from a challenge,” you replied boldly, lifting your glass in a mock salute before sipping the lemonade.

He watched every move you made with a smile that made your heart flutter. “And that’s exactly why I love ya,” he said softly, his tone turning more sincere.

It felt like old times, just the two of you in each other's company, the laughter ringing like music. After dinner, the music softened, and the atmosphere turned more romantic.

Terry stood, extending his hand to you. “Shall we?” With a smile, you took his hand as he led you to the dance floor, where the soft light danced around you like fireflies on a warm summer night.

As you swayed together, you felt the rhythm of the music seep into your bones. Terry pulled you closer, his hands resting gently on your lower back, confidently guiding you.

The world around you faded, and it was just him and you, lost in this moment. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings that made your heart swell.

“Look at you, movin’ like you own this floor,” Terry murmured, admiration dripping from his voice. “Ain’t nobody can do it like you can, sweetheart.”

You felt a rush of heat at his words, a giddy thrill igniting your chest. “Terry,” you replied, biting back a smile as you twirled under his arm, relishing how he effortlessly caught you again.

“You know how to make a girl feel special.” You said, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart sync with yours.

Terry chuckled lowly, tilting your chin up to meet your eyes. “Nah, baby girl, it’s all about you. Every move, every glance— I can’t help but be mesmerized,” he said earnestly.

“You’re my whole world.” His gaze held yours captive; it was intimate and raw, each word wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace.

“You know what you are doing!” You laughed lightly as your cheeks warmed under his adoration. “Maybe...but I'm just speaking the truth,” he whispers, kissing your lips.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush that sent shivers down your spine. Time seemed to slow as you melted into him, the world around you fading.

You could taste the sweetness of the lemonade mingled with the warmth of his breath, an intoxicating blend that left you craving more.

As the music swelled, so did your passion. Terry deepened the kiss, his hands roaming from your waist to your ass, pulling you closer as if he wanted to erase any space between you.

“Baby,” Terry breathed against your lips, a teasing lilt in his voice. “You gotta know what kinda hold you got on me.”

You laughed softly, feeling emboldened by his affection. “Oh really? Is that right?” You leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his cheek, an invitation that promised more.

“Yeah...hey, I have something else special,” he replied with a playful smirk. His eyes sparkled as he twirled you again, then pulled you back into him, letting the music guide your movements.

“After this amazing dinner, what could you have else planned, Terry?" You asked as your bodies moved harmoniously, hips swaying together like they were made for this dance.

This moment where nothing else mattered. "You'll have to see, come on," he whispered, took your hand, leading you back to the table to settle the bill.

“You ready for this?” he asked, glancing at you with that glint in his eye that always made your heart skip. “Ready as I’ll ever be! Let’s go!” you answered, excitement bubbling over.

You stepped out into the cool night air, hand in hand. You two were in the car again and eventually made where you two were going. “Terry, where we goin’?” you asked, curiosity bubbling up like champagne, your heart racing as he pulled you along.

“Just trust me, baby,” he said over his shoulder, his smile mischievous and inviting. “I promise it’s somethin’ real special.”

You squeezed his hand, excitement surging through you as he navigated through the small villa. Every step was a tease; every turn held the potential for surprise.

Finally, he stopped in front of an ornate wooden door. He turned to you, letting go of your hand just long enough to pull out a small key from his pocket.

“Now, don't be peekin',” Terry said with a grin as he unlocked it. Your anticipation heightened as the door creaked open, revealing a cozy space bathed in warm golden light.

“Oh wow…” you breathed as you stepped inside, your heart leaping at the sight before you—a smaller villa impeccably decorated with rich crimson roses scattered across the bed and soft candlelight illuminating every corner.

“Surprise!” Terry announced proudly, closing the door behind you both. “I figured we needed a little time on this vacation just for us.” You spun around to face him, unable to contain your joy.

“Terry! This is, this is so beautiful and sweet! You really thought of everything!” You said softly, looking at him happily.

“Aww, you know I had to treat you right, baby. “Ain't nothin' but the best for my queen,” he said, his voice smooth like honey as he stepped closer, closing the space between you two.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, sending shivers down your spine. “Terry, I love you,” you replied with a grin, your heart fluttering like a butterfly in spring.

Terry's eyes danced with mischief as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear. “Oh, baby, I love you too," Terry said, reaching for your waist.

Terry pulled you against him as his lips met yours with an urgent hunger. The kiss ignited a fire within you, deepening as he playfully nibbled on your bottom lip.

“Taste so sweet,” Terry murmured against your mouth before pulling away just enough to gaze intently into your eyes. His hands slid down to cup your ass, lifting you up slightly to the bed.

“I've been wanting you all night” Terry growled, his breath hot against your skin as he sat you on the bed. The soft sheets beckoned you both as he laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Look at you” Terry teased, a devilish grin playing on his lips as he traced a finger along your jawline. “Got all dressed up and ready for me; now it's time to rip that shit off.”

With that, he started peeling off your dress, bra, and panties like they were the layers of an onion, revealing every inch of your skin to him." fuck baby,” he said appreciatively, feasting his eyes on your body.

“You're so damn stunning.” His voice dropped low, sending shivers through you. “I could get lost in you.” He added. “Oh, Terry…” you breathed out, feeling the heat between you two intensify.

Terry leaned closer, his hands exploring every curve and dip of your body before trailing down to your thighs. “You smell good, too,” he murmured as he kissed down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

“I bet you taste even better.” You could feel the electricity crackling as he moved lower, his lips brushing against your stomach. “Gonna make you scream my name tonight,” he promised with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Baby, don’t tease me like that,” you replied breathlessly, biting your lip in anticipation. His presence was intoxicating, and every moment felt like it was building to something spectacular.

“I ain’t teasin’; I’m just gettin' started,” Terry responded, his voice dripping with a sultry confidence that sent heat racing through your veins.

Terry grinned, eyes glinting as he knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your skin. “Now open up for me, mama,” he commanded softly, the authority in his tone making your heart race even faster.

“I wanna taste that sweet, wet pussy of yours the way you know I can.” He said sensual and you shivered at the intensity of his gaze, feeling wholly exposed yet utterly safe in his presence.

“Terry,” you gasped, your body arching instinctively toward him. Terry smirked as he spread your thighs wider, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

With no warning, he dove in hungrily, lips wrapping around your most sensitive spot and sucking gently while his tongue flicked teasingly over you.

The sensation hit you like a tidal wave, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending. "Oh, shit! Terry," you moaned, gripping the sheets as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

“You taste so damn incredible,” Terry growled against you, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through your core. “Like candy…I could spend all night down here.”

His tongue danced expertly, swirling and teasing as he took his time savoring every inch of you. “Don’t stop… Please don’t stop,” you begged, your voice breathy and filled with desperation.

You could feel it building inside you, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to burst. “I’m close, baby! Just like that!” You cried out, the words tumbling from your lips as his mouth worked its magic.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Terry growled, deepening his rhythm as he added a finger, sliding it inside you just right. “C’mon, let me feel you.” He watched with satisfaction as your body responded to him, arching and writhing beneath his touch.

“Tell me how good it feels, sweetheart,” Terry demanded, his voice thick with desire. You could barely form words; each syllable was swallowed by the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“It feels… so fucking good, Terry!” you gasped out, your hand finding the back of his head, pulling him closer as if that could draw him deeper into you. “Don’t stop… I need to cum.”

“Then do it for me,” Terry urged, his tongue flicking faster against your sensitive bud while pumping his fingers in and out of you with expert precision. “Let me taste all that sweetness.”

And just like that, the coil inside you snapped. You cried out his name like a prayer, waves of ecstasy washing over you as your body quaked in pleasure.

“Oh ahhh fuck, Terry!” Your voice echoed in the room as you caved to the bliss. He lapped at every sweetness that flowed from you, savoring your release as if it were the finest delicacy.

“Damn, baby! You’re so beautiful when you cum,” Terry said, kissing along your inner thighs. You were panted, barely able to catch your breath.

“That was…” You couldn't get the words out; they were still coming down from your high. “I know, baby girl,” he said, winking at you as he got off the bed to take his clothes off.

Terry climbed back on top of the bed, his muscular arms flexing as he positioned himself between your legs. His eyes locked with yours as he pressed the tip of his big, throbbing dick against your wet pussy.

“Tell me what you want, sexy,” he purred in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want Daddy to make love to his good girl or fuck her senseless?”

You looked into his eyes, the fire igniting a corresponding flame within you. “Fuck me, Daddy,” you growled, the words leaving a wake of desire in their path. “Fuck me 'til I can't walk straight.”

"You got it, baby," he said with a mischievous grin. Terry slammed his dick inside you, filling you to the hilt and setting every nerve ending ablaze.

"Damn, mmmm...you feel so amazing!" His breathing was labored and erratic as he pulled back out slowly before slamming back in even harder.

"Goddamn, yes, Terry! yes, Fuck me like you mean it!" Your words mixed with moans as he relentlessly pounded into you. "Harder, Terry! I want it harder!"

"No problem, babe," he grunted, picking up the pace. Sweat beading on both your brows as your bodies slapped together in carnal rhythm. “I’m gonna give it to you so good,” he said with a moan.

"I know you will, Terry," you moaned. "I know you gonna fuck me senseless."

"You better believe it," he growled, reaching around to roughly squeeze one of your plump breasts, tweaking the hard nipple between his fingers.

"You like that, huh? You like it when Daddy squeezes your tits while he fucks you?"

"Yes! Yes, Daddy, I love it!" you cried out, arching your back to meet him stroke for filthy stroke. "Squeeze them harder, make me cum again!"

Terry obliged, pinching and twisting your nipples as he continued to pound into you mercilessly. Your moans filled the room, bouncing off the walls in a symphony of lust and desire.

"Oh shit, baby, I'm close," Terry grunted, his breath coming in short pants. "I'm gonna…I'm gonna…"

"Cum inside me! Cum deep inside of me and show me how much you love me!" you screamed, your own orgasm building up once more.

"Damn, my nasty girl," Terry groaned before picking up the pace even more. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart. Feels like heaven. fuck I love you.”

As if that were the final push needed, both of you came undone together. Terry roared out his release as he pumped hot thick ropes of cum deep inside you.

"Terry, Terry, Terry" you screamed, chanting his name at the top of your lungs as your body quaked with another mind-shattering orgasm.

Your bodies trembled together as the last waves of pleasure washed over you. Terry collapsed on top of you, his weight a comforting presence as you both struggled to catch your breath.

After a moment, he rolled to the side, pulling you into his arms. "That was…incredible," you panted, nuzzling into his chest. "You're incredible," Terry murmured, kissing your forehead tenderly.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as your heartbeats slowly returned to normal. You lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow.

[accio-victuuri]

Xiao Zhan Portrait Magazine Interview 📝

🎤: xiao zhan, we actually filmed a cover back then in 2019, and then in interview video, we also filmed a five year video. the last sentence in that video is what do you expect xiao zhan to look like in the next five years. five years have passed now, i want to know what kind of person xiao zhan has become.

XZ: just now, during the filming process they showed me an interview from five years ago and then when i saw the ending — i think it's amazing. at that time five years felt like a long time, at that time i thought i didn't know where i would be in five years, and then what i will become. now five years have passed in the blink of an eye, i feel like something has changed but it also feel like nothing has changed. it seems like everything has undergone an subtle changes but in reality it seems that nothing has changed. it's a wonderful feeling. i can't use words nor statements such as "change" and "unchanged" and then describe it.

🎤: in those five years there will be a lot of growth. i actually want to know what do you think is your biggest growth.

XZ: i feel calm and composed. i feel like i have became a little more self-reflective.

🎤: compared to oneself — what does this self refer to?

XZ: because i have always believed in the words "self" and "freedom" i think those are very neutral word. my former self words is that we will consider all aspects to visual. as i mentioned in my previous interview — i am very concerned about how other perceive me, i care a lot about others' opinions about me. but perhaps over the past five years we have walked slowly along the way so now i think it's more about asking oneself, and then based on one's own opinions

🎤: you will have a persistence, so to be honest whether it's five years or something else do you think you have something firm that it won't change from you?

XZ: of course there will be.

🎤: what is it?

XZ: i remember i said this before — i remember a friend of mine told me "you may not know what you want, but you must know what you don't want" i think this has never changed.

🎤: what do you not want?

XZ: there are many things i don't want.

🎤: can you share with me an example?

XZ: for example — something that is luxurious but uncomfortable, or something that i feel not suitable for me.

🎤: i see, because i actually meet you now there are also quite a few changes. one of them is starting to exercise now right

XZ: yes!

🎤: and over the five years i actually want to know if have there been any changes in the control of your own body or some changes perception of body?

XZ: actually i have been working out all along. for the past exercise i may have been more pursuit to be a little thinner so there are used to be a lot of aerobic work done before, but now it's actually more about stability, to be more calm, so more importantly i did some strength training.

🎤: i feel that sometimes the passage of time also means that we grow up or even get older, so sometimes you may suddenly realize that your control over your body or your own experiences are little different from before.

XZ: just like when i just watched the interview video from five years ago then in the middle of conversation i just saw myself in the mirror i feel like it's an improved version from the past then now. is it a widened version or narrowed version. i can't say for sure. i don't know where are the subtle changes have occurred — maybe it's about appearance, then it could be the body shape or it may be a state. in every aspect i feel the person in the mirror is a plus version of myself that i just saw in the video. then if we talk about mentality, i think there have been many changes.

🎤:what you say — maybe five years about the body you just mentioned. i want to know if you have had a moment of spiritual freedom in the past five years.

XZ: the most spiritual freedom moment?

🎤: yes, the most spiritual freedom moment.

XZ: actually i feel that i have been relatively free and relaxed for a period of time. it was during joining the filming crew. on the contrary when i was on the set. i don't think it's like a job but more like creating a work — creating a character, the process of creating a character so i am actually very invested.

🎤: so you may feel that speaking of a relative freedom it's when you completely immersed yourself in this character. is it to some extent of isolation from real life. let's said like that?

XZ: it can be said like that.

🎤: i actually remember the reason why you referred to five years as it back then it's because from an ordinary person no matter what or rather entering the entertainment industry as a non actor and then during 2015 and now 5 years have passed. you have actually been in the entertainment industry for 10 years. will there be any changes in the perception of the entertainment industry.

XZ: woah it's been 10 years?

🎤: we can have a 5 years term of 15 days which is 10 years.

XZ: what changes have occurred? — i don't think there has been any change. there hasn't been any change. i think it's relatively achievable, their scope is relatively simple…yes relative simple.

🎤: do you remember the last time i asked you a question? if you are not an actor what would you do. do you remember your answer?

XZ: it's to open a bakery.

🎤: yes. be a baker. i also want to ask this question now. if one day you don't work as an actor anymore what could be your next career? or what do you want to do?

XZ: perhaps…there will still be to opening a bakery. although there may be many practical problems encountered but i still really want to (open a bakery) because i think it's a very happy thing.

🎤: and if we talk about now. does 33 years old xiao zhan have something special? for example the so-called moment of collapse? or it could be a regretful breakdown of the realm.

XZ: i think it might be when acting there are really…i don't think it can be considered a breakdown but i think it's the hurdle. you may not be able to step over but you and i will try every possible way.

🎤: you want to do it better.

XZ: yes, when encountering some obstacles during acting it may make me feel a bit overwhelmed at the moment like — "why can't i do it…" when that hurdle remained insurmountable, it's something that makes me feel a little overwhelmed.

🎤: is there a so-called moment of compromise.

XZ: i don't think it can be considered a compromise right? but i'll do as much as possible. probably the final result may not have been achieved by you today. perhaps it will be resolved by looking back at the present after a few days.

🎤: actually i think something speaking of adults is actually a process of constantly recognizing boundaries as you just said, actually sometimes the so-called compromise is also a process of recognizing the boundaries. do you have that feeling of like you suddenly realized that in all aspects you actually has boundaries there?

XZ: of course i think this can be considered a rule. you can understand it this way.

🎤: if we actually said that five years have passed what will the next xiao zhan look like? have you ever thought about what kind of xiao zhan you hope to be in five years? at that time you will be 38 years old.

XZ: what do i hope xiao zhan looks like? i hope he can have a great time.

🎤: that’s all? is there or what kind of actor will he become?

XZ: no no no…i don't hope much…i just want him to be happy, to have a very happy life.

🎤: do you still dream frequently now? what was your most recent dream?

XZ: i haven’t had a dream for a long time.

🎤: do you often suffer from insomnia?

XZ:: there might be just a little time to sleep, there is bit of difficulty.

🎤: because we often say everyone actually has their own memory building i want to know in your memory — is there a moment that leave you with a recurring memory or could it been repeatedly reminded to you.

XZ:: the last time i dreamed was probably about the place where i used to live when i was a child. it's an old residential building and then our house is on the fifth floor. i remember what the aisle looked like.

🎤: seems to have gone back again

XZ: yes, and then it's really amazing, the structure of the room, and then the people. my parents and grandparents both. everyone is still stuck in that time because it was when i was still a child.

🎤: have you ever wondered why you keep dreaming about that repeatedly?

XZ: this might feel strange but maybe to me it's bit like a safe house. yes, a safe house. this kind of existence may occur when i feel tired or unhappy. maybe, i just want to go back.

🎤: your case reminds me of my previous interview with zhu deyong. he is a taiwanese cartoonist — he said that every time he felt unsafe he will go back to his childhood house in his mind, and he will go patrol room by room then use his memory to build the entire house. he can even see the most delicate table, the chair, and all the vivid memories.

XZ: i was like this in my dream. the kitchen at home, then the restroom, the living room, the two bedrooms, the structural cabinets of the balcony, at the time even the exhaust fan that never replaced. it's either a range hood or a wonderful one — all the details are clear and precise.

🎤: will that make you feel at ease?

XZ: i don't know either but instead of getting up…after waking up there will be a little feeling of loss and melancholy.

🎤: your childhood was particularly happy.

XZ:: my childhood…it's very happy.

🎤: so to some extent that’s also a way for you to nourish yourself.

XZ: yes

🎤: because i know you were actually a designer before and then you can also draw. so do you sometimes draw things about it? for example are you still drawing now? can you draw your childhood house?

XZ: no..but you reminded me. i can give it a try

🎤: it's because i feel like you will rebuilding your memories, some kind of similarity. it is also a very good feedback for yourself.

XZ: it's very good.

🎤: actually it's been five years to some extent…family members also aging. do you have this feeling? like i feel like my parents are getting older?

XZ: i do. but every time i try to stir up emotions then do it with them and message them they will immediately jump out and say "i'm playing ball now" so i don't have time to tell them otherwise my mom and i are out on a road trip again. she will says just be good to yourself, you will feel better okay? they are…very happy.

🎤: they are doing well, so they actually don't have the anxiety of aging at all.

XZ: they are full of power. so i think they are the object of my learning.

🎤: have you asked them why do you think they have no such anxiety at all? like they should think of it.

XZ: i have no idea. so i envy them very much. i really envy them. i learn from them this mentality.

🎤: we just asked our photographer. he has had a lot of contact with you in the five past years he says he will feel your current sense of security or rather your sense of relaxation is gradually increasing especially this year. so i don't know yet if it's a cue do you think there will be something this year that will make you suddenly feel this kind of openness or relaxation?

XZ: i think it’s very subtle because i believe life is not a novel not a movie, not a script. i didn't have a suddenly awakening point right? i think it't a long process, it’s a gradual accumulation then slowly and slowly some changes occurred. so you are asked me when it all started at which moment which i don't really know. but i can only feel like i'm here right now, i don't care that much, maybe it will be better.

🎤: i remember asking you back then 'are you smiling when you're happy' you said "i can't say i'm happy but i'm lucky”

XZ: i also feel very happy now, i am very lucky now

🎤: if you say so then i was also very happy it was a perfect five years. i think if you say so are lucky and happy in five years this show you have actually gone very far in the past five years. how to say this..you may not always gone so smoothly but you really is. so it's better to it to go smoothly. i hope the next five years will be smoother.

XZ: yes, just like what i do every year. people will ask me what kind of blessings do you have for yourself in the new year or give it to someone who likes you? i will says "safe and smooth" people may think that being smooth and healthy is so simple but let's think of it carefully it's not that simple at all. it's again a wish, a blessings.

🎤: so if you want to say something to everyone in 2025…

XZ: it still the same sentence "safe and smooth" i think it's safe and smooth for now then other will come follow naturally.

🎤: alright that's all for now. i have no other questions left. i am looking forward to the next five years with you.

XZ: thank you

[hwalovs]

The Apprentice 1/?

Chapter One; Deer, Fox, or Rabbit?

Pairing; Viktor x Vampire!Reader Warnings; none too extreme? Blood drinking (animal), mainly just yappers yapping about things. it’s a little twilight coded, so what?? sue me! Word Count; 7.9k

Summary; Finding an Apprentice should be easy. You have a simple task, one that cannot be handled lightly. Yet, the mind is a unique thing, and each one you've come across don't seem to meet your specific qualifications. Until your dear friend and confidant, Heimerdinger, brings forth a man with a bright ambition and a determination that could rival anyone.

A/n; oh god,, another series?? this one ahs been cooking for the last few days, and after finishing arcane and igniting my LOVE for Viktor, i decided it was time to try my hand at writing him :>> my darling friend @disturbyn beta read this so I’m no longer liable for financial instability!

THIS IS NOT EDITED!

DO NOT COPY, REPOST ON OTHER SITES, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION!

“My dear friend,” a voice chimes, and you smile. Dropping to a knee, you open your arms to greet him with a brief hug. He was warm, fur soft as it touched your cheek. He pulls away, and with bright eyes he says your name. He was dressed in his usual councilman attire, blue fabric complimented with gold. 

“Councilor Heimerdinger, what a pleasant sight to see.”

He waves you off, stepping away to give you a glare “drop the formalities, would you?”

Shrugging, you rise to your full height, tipping your head to your driver who opened your door. The streets of Piltover were bustling with life, people walking in and out of the building. The sun was shining brightly, no cloud in the sky, the buildings of Piltover glimmering and dazzling. On the rare occasions that you visit, the city never fails to amaze you with its beauty. More innovations included, more steps into the future. 

Even with your jacket on, it was cold outside. The air was biting at your cheeks as you walked the stairs, body shivering as the wind wrapped your body. Heimerdinger couldn’t tell the difference, his thick fur protecting his small body from the elements. 

Unless it was raining, then you would see him running for any kind of shelter. 

“I find it customary, dear friend,” you jest, beginning to climb the steps of the building. It was large, almost doubling the size of the one from the last Inventors Competition you attended. It was hosted in Piltover this year, situated right between the heart of the city, and the bridge that leads to Zaun. The building was a museum, repurposed for the day. Three sets of double doors were propped open, allowing people to freely go in and out. Marble steps lead the way up, the chains on your boots clinking with each step you take. 

“Yet, you’ve arrived late,” Heimerdinger says, “not very customary of you, my dear.”

“Eh,” you shrug, “I doubt my presence was missed.”

He shakes his head, “most have already asked for an audience with you. You’re going to come across many disappointed faces, I fear.”

“Aw, poor babies,” you kiss your teeth, stopping in the doorway to look around the room. Multitudes of tables were set up to hold different inventions. Most of the crowd had already moved on, the aisles free to roam comfortably. 

Although you’d have rather stayed home, there was a nagging that stayed consistent in your mind. It whispered to you during the night, while you tried to work, while you roamed the empty halls of your estate. 

Oh, sweet death. It would sing, a symphony without the strings. 

Heimerdinger's letters on the subject once brought you annoyance, but this year, you decided to indulge him. Months of writing, planning your short visit, tell you what to expect from some of his students. You tried to keep an open mind, but as you survey the room from your standing point, you find mirrors of what you’ve seen before. 

He chuckles, and you nod to the enforcers that stand beside the doors. They barely glance your way, all zoned in your own worlds as they try to stay awake. 

Even with your jacket on, it was cold outside. The air was biting at your cheeks as you walked the stairs, body shivering as the wind wrapped your body. Heimerdinger couldn’t tell the difference, his thick fur protecting his small body from the elements. 

Unless it was raining, then you would see him running for any kind of shelter. 

“Tell me,” you muse, “anything promising?”

“That all depends on what you’re looking for,” he smiles, “the entries this year are very promising, I should add.”

Finally making your way into the building, you start down one of the rows, briefly reading off the small cards that line the table. It was intriguing, seeing what the human mind can create. Each one was different, promising innovation and change for the ones who needed it the most. Some were simple, a new irrigation method, a new tool to help with surgery. Others were more intricate, a way to heal broken bones faster, a way to grow taller or thinner in a matter of days. 

Heimerdinger continued to talk at your side, keeping with your slow pace. His voice was bright and joyous, a singing tone that contrasted to yours. He spoke enough for the both of you, and as time passed you’d grown accustomed to his hyperactive personality. Always easy to pick out of the crowd, various voices meshing together in one large mass that you tried to ignore. 

“The last time I was here,” you break the silence, glancing down at bright blue eyes, “you told me I’d be impressed with the entries.”

He pauses, looking at you with narrowed eyes and a twitching lip, “I was correct then, just as I am correct now-”

“Eh,” you wince, scrunching your face up and rocking a hand side to side, “I’d say-”

He cuts you off, speaking over you, it makes you laugh. Holding your hands in surrender at his stern tone, “New minds bring new innovations, different outlooks that we haven’t thought of. It’s brilliant, what the mind can do without restrictions.”

Stopping at the end of the table, you reach out to grab a small device, painted an array of blues and pinks that resemble a chomping shark. On the side was a pin, your thumb brushing over it, nodding your head once and setting it back down. Next to it was a small card, the dimensions, components, and its purpose all messily written.

“Brilliant. Yet, the council never seizes what can excel the cities.”

Heimerdinger huffs, “Many trials can take years to complete, and other items do not get chosen.”

Humming, you choose not to argue. It was something that would always come up between you both. With him on the council, you liked to poke fun. Liked to make jabbing remarks that would cause his fur to bristle, his foot to stomp. He didn’t pick up on it until years later, and stopped indulging your antics. Tonight, you suppose he forgot. The excitement of young minds filled the air, cheerful laughter and jittering tones that spoke too fast. 

The back of the crowd was already making their way into the main ballroom, where all inventors and potential patrons would speak of partnerships and opportunities. Sometimes you wouldn’t even make it to that room, instead heading home after surveying the array of inventions. 

“Has the ranking already been released?” You ask, turning down another aisle. Boots tapping against the tiled floor, you brush down the front of your jacket before continuing. Most things mirrored each other, mostly the same except for a slight difference. It makes you smile, seeing the small things added. A simple touch of a difference that brought out the mind of the inventor. A different paint, a different metal, a different bolt or screw. It was all intentional to them, all things different that make them human. 

“Ah! Indeed! Announced just before your arrival-” He jumps, reaching into his jacket to bring out a piece of paper. It was pristine, decorated with gold and black ink. He handed it to you with a smile, and you looked over it with a raised eyebrow. From left to right, was the ranking, name, age, and small description of each entry. In tiny numbers besides that, was where each person could be found. You briefly look over each description, coming up empty handed on what you were interested in. 

Fourth Place, Ekko ---, 13, ---

Third Place, Powder ---- , 12, ---

Second Place, Jayce ---, 23, ---

First Place, Viktor ---, 24, ---

Your step falters, hand quickly grabbing the edge of the table beside you to right yourself, and you glare at the bolt that slides across the floor. It was a gear, its notches broken and chipped. Heimerdinger hums a light tune under his breath, continuing on his way. He didn’t see you almost fall, didn’t see your eyes narrow and glare at the page in hand before cursing under your breath.

 Shivering, you tilt your head to the side and turn the paper over. The back was filled with an array of the named Patrons, Investors, Mages, anyone who could take a beneficiary. 

In italicised gold ink, was your name.  

Frowning, you glare at Heimerdinger, who continued to make his way to the main room. Perhaps he thought only two rows was enough to look at, he knew what you were here for, after all. 

“I’m done here,” you grumble, turning to leave before Heimerdinger shouts your name, walking quickly down the aisle to meet you once more. Gaze stern, he regards you with a frown, “you just got here, I refuse to let you leave.”

“That’s called kidnapping,” you scoff, trying to walk past, but the Yordle stands in your way. 

“You’re hardly a child, yet with the way you’re acting right now- I can hardly tell the difference.”

You fake a gasp, placing your free hand onto your chest. 

“Heimerdinger, you insult me.”

He ignores you, “you must meet some of the candidates before you leave, who knows- you might find who you’re looking for!”

Sighing deeply, you refuse to look at him, instead turning back around and to stare at the open doors that await you on the other side of the room. You could faintly hear the music that floods through, glasses clinking together as connections are made.

Dropping onto your haunches, you feel your jacket fold behind your knees, puddling around you. His eyes briefly widen, before his hands rest on his hips, beginning to tap against the tiles. 

Holding out the paper, you tap the front, finger brushing along the parchment right next to each name. 

“See these? The names, small descriptions of what they’ve brought?” His eyes flicker, and you can see the gears turning, before he sighs.

“I do, my dear.”

“What is here that will thrive under my apprenticeship?” Heimerdinger's eyebrows relax, the fur atop his lip drooping slightly. He seems to fully deflate for a moment, and then a spark ignites, and he's set alight with a new vigor. 

“If you give a plant no water, will it grow? If you simply look at an unfinished project, how will it come to fruition? You must work for it,” your name is softly spoken, a hand gently placed onto yours. 

“Ha,” you laugh, sarcastic, shaking your head and dropping your arms to rest on bent knees. 

“If I wanted to water a plant, I wouldn’t be here.”

Sighing, he steps closer to grab your free hand once more, his other coming to gently pat the top. 

He was so kind, so gentle with the people around him. All bright colors and curious nature, a mirror to you. Dark colors, disinterested eyes and almost permanent frown.

“Each human is different from the next, you simply have to talk to them. Gage what they want to pursue, and go from there. You’ll find what you’re looking for faster that way, you know.”

Grumbling, you throw him a glare. Standing, you brush off the front of your pants, and turn towards the room once more. Some of the attendees regarded you with curious looks, whispering to their partner while making room for you and Heimerdinger. Others stared with wide eyes, clutching their drink to their chest. 

The room itself was beautiful, an open space once used to present statues and large art pieces. They were moved away, replaced with small tables full of small, bite sized, foods and flutes of champagne. Large windows covered the wall to your right, letting in the sun. Thick, red velvet curtains framed them, golden tassels holding the fabric open. Some were cracked, letting in the clean city air. 

There was a brief moment you hoped you wouldn’t be recognized, but your attire and companion gave you away entirely. 

Piltover was the city of progress, its people dressing as such. With bright colors of gold and white, displaying their house sigils proudly on their own attire, all sparkling and proudly presenting themselves. You didn’t have a house here, didn’t have a name, you didn’t wear Piltover's colors. Keeping your gaze forwards, you try to ignore their intrusive gazes. 

The room itself was chilly, and you reached to pull your jacket tighter around you. It was a deep blue, silver threading and embellishments decorating the front and back. It reached down to your boots, the material slightly billowing behind you as you walked. 

You make your way to the edge of the room, and politely smile at a few young faces who continue to stare. Wearing the academy uniform, you wonder if Heimerdinger would recognize them, but the student body was much too vast now to remember each new face. They each blush, quickly turning back to whoever they were talking to while walking away. Soon, it was only you and Heimerdinger, who continued to smile like nothing was wrong. 

“Why are they looking at me like that?” You ask softly, hands clasping behind your back, paper still in hand. 

Heimerdinger chuckles, “you’re rarely seen in the city, and you wonder why everyone is so curious?”

“I hate being a spectacle,” grumbling, you turn to look at anything else. Trying to ignore the lingering gazes, the whispers that include your name. 

“Maybe,” he gasps, “you should visit more! Oh, now wouldn’t that just be lovely?”

Scowling, you glare, shifting your stance to hiss under your breath, “oh, you’d like that wouldn't you? You little demon.”

He laughs to himself, waving you off, “you just might come to adore the city the longer you frequent. The City of Progress is ever changing, my dear.”

Ignoring him, you try and make out the faces from one another. Some councilors were present, all with a champagne flute in hand as they talked to academy students, other investors, even potential partners that could benefit for their own gain.

One boy, though, all smiling and bright eyed, continued to talk with a small group of students. The one who caught your eye, though, wore the silver medal of second place around his neck. He had a small device in hand, twisting and maneuvering it around to explain to the others how it functioned. Dark hair pushed back haphazardly, tan skin that seemed to glow under the light, he was a handsome young man. 

“What of Jayce-“ you squint, “Jayce Talis?”

Heimerdinger makes a questioning sound, following your line of sight before whistling, the end trailing off, “The beneficiary of House Kiramman, I’m afraid.”

“Hm, not swayable, then?”

He only waves you off, “he seems to be prospering under their care- what of Ekko and Powder?” he’s pointing to a young duo opposite Jayces' group. Sitting at one of the small tables, drinks untouched. They were consumed in a hushed conversation, both staring inquisitively down at an open notebook. Short blue hair stopping just under her shoulders, the young girl bites at her nails. The dress she wore was violet, flowing just past her knees. It matched the pink stripe in her hair perfectly. 

The boy, though, was in an academy uniform, white hair pulled away from his face. Dark skin, kind eyes, his leg tapping anxiously. 

“Ekko and Powder?” You parrot, and Heimerdinger makes a noise in the back of his throat. 

“Best not to separate them,” he stops short, quickly recovering “They work well in tandem, bouncing off each other as if they were small balls of energy. You’d find most progress with both.”

That wouldn’t do; you sigh. Looking back to Jayce’s group, you briefly meet his eyes. A bright hazel that shimmered with energy. He falters in what he was saying, eyes darting between you and Heimerdinger before he frantically looks back to one of his friends. Sighing, you kiss along your teeth. There was no shaking the eyes you would spot in the crowd, clinging to you. They would quickly disappear, blushing and whispering. This part, you hated the most. All the people, staring and whispering. It made you feel small, scrutinized under them. Were some of them judging you for arriving late? Were they wondering when you’d accept a new apprentice? Closing your eyes, you try to level yourself. It wouldn’t do you any good to drag yourself through turmoil. 

“You mentioned a number of them requested an audience?”

“Ah!” he jumps, clapping his hands once, before scurrying away and into the crowd.

You tried to keep yourself steady as student after student was brought to you. Some were smiling, blushing as they offered you their hand politely. The conversations were dragging, them speaking of their ambitions and dreams before being silenced by your raised hand. Some would grow teary, words dying off like the light in their eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you’d smile, a sympathetic tone wrapping your rejection, “Your ambitions, although bright, do not align with what I’m looking for.”

Some took it better than others, shaking your hand once before departing with disappointed faces and sagging shoulders. Heimerdinger would throw you a glare, ask what was wrong with them, if you were doing it just for spite. Each time, you’d shrug, “they cannot give me what I need, Heimerdinger.”

One girl was promising, Sky Young. She dazzled you with her beauty, crossing her arms and smiling brightly. She had freckles that covered her full cheeks when she spoke, glasses that reflected a dreary image of you. Life danced across her face with each word she spoke, a desire to discover, to create. She offered to show you her ideas, what she had brought as her entry. Her smile didn’t falter when you declined, and for once, you could feel hope dance its way between your ribs. 

Until she mentioned her schooling, and how she’d want to continue innovating and creating. 

With a heavy heart, you reluctantly rejected her. She took it respectfully, dipping her head. 

“I have one more idea, although he did not request an audience,” he sighed, before he departed once more. For, hopefully, the final time tonight. 

Towards the two hour mark, you find yourself standing with your eyes closed, listening to your own breathing and the chatter of conversation around you. The windows had been closed, the sun shining directly through and casting shadows of people along the floor. The music was a repeat of around ten songs, you discovered, and on the seventh song you heard Heimerdinger approaching, the distinctive tapping of a cane following. 

My dear!” Heimerdinger sings, stopping to stand between you both. Smiling forcefully, you ignore the onsetting headache as you look over the man in front of you. Loose pants on long slender legs, a vest that clung to a lithe waist. Fingers that gripped a golden medal, and the pommel of a cane. The ladder made your skin prickle. 

Eyes scanning higher, gliding over the grey tie that fits his throat, brown hair that almost curls around his ears, and dazzling honey gold eyes that stare back at you with unwavering certainty. Shoulders relaxed, the man seemed to be studying you as well. 

“This is Viktor-“ drowning out his voice, you bite down on your tongue. Heat builds across your back, sharp claws digging into your skin to drag its way over your shoulders. Fatigue deep within your bones, you clasp your hands behind your back. 

“A pleasure, truly. Madam?” He smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes. 

Speaking your name plainly, you tilt your head, eyes narrowed, “congratulations on first place. I don’t remember seeing you in attendance last time I was here, are you a new student?”

“Viktor has been my assistant for some time, working under my watchful eye while he completes his studies. Though, he’s one of my top students!”

A hum, and you decide to look at anything but the man in front of you. Stomach turning, you wished for a drink. No doubt, if you could drink the bubbling champagne, you would’ve had five glasses by now. Your head moves towards the windows and when your eyes catch the light, Viktor catches a flash of red tint. He almost shivers, smile wavering and as quickly as you look away, you’re back to watching him intently. 

“Your patron must be proud, working under Heimerdinger personally.”

He waves you off, and Heimerdinger gives you a curious look, gloved hands clasping in front of him, “Viktor has no patron, dear friend.”

Eyebrows rising, you look back at the younger, who was glancing at the painting behind you. Pushing the wings of your coat open, you slide your cold hands into your pockets, paper still in hand. It was folded, now hidden away. You skim your finger over one of four points, pressing it into the pad of your index before retreating.

 “You’ve no patron? Can I ask why?”

It was a first, seeing someone so young without the guidance of a Patron. Every one you had met, were almost all students. They each were vying for one, asking for guidance to help with their research. Viktor, though, had seemingly made it far enough by himself. 

Hands boxing his vest, he only shrugs, “Eh,” he hums, “I find it more fulfilling to work by myself. I simply assist the professor with miniscule tasks when needed.”

You wince, “I apologize on his behalf, then.”

“You insult me! Viktor works diligently and without complaint, thank you,” Heimerdinger gasps, crossing his arms. 

The pair of you chuckle, and before you stop yourself, you find a smile curling around your features, “I commend you, I can barely stay around him for too long before i get a headache.”

“Have you known the Professor long? You speak as if you’re close?”

Your smile falls, and Viktor wonders if he’s spoken out of line. A melancholy look floods your features, and you look to Heimerdinger, “I’ve known him almost my whole life. He’s been a close confidant to me in my times of need, surely as his assistant, you can agree?”

“I can, his guidance has helped me with my personal work.”

“Any success?” You can feel the answer already swelling between you both, and with a disappointed shake of his head, Viktor tenses his shoulders, “Only on paper, the council deems experimentation ‘too soon’”

A small bout of anger pools in your chest, such a brilliant mind, condemned to a rigorous routine of theory after theory, faux solution; one after the other to show a group of councillors, not even proficient in the field of study, what they deem to be ‘safe’. How has such a promising city made so much progress, if minds such as his were forced to sit patiently?

“Isn’t the city of progress supposed to encourage, I don’t know- progress?” Rolling your shoulders back, you give Heimerdinger a pointed look.

“Safety must always come first, dear friend! Not everyone can go into their back yard and ignite an explosion.” He shoots an equally devious expression your way. Viktor clears his throat, shooting Heimerdinger a warning glance. You smirk, and with a tilt of your head you ask teasingly, “have you blown something up, Viktor?”

“My work can sometimes cause an unwanted chain reaction, It’s not as if I want to cause an explosion.”

“‘Sometimes’? Do you regularly almost blow up buildings? What does your work entail for you, hm?”

Cheeks burning, Viktor avoids your eyes, silently cursing the professor for bringing up the select few times an experiment went awry. 

“I want to help the people who need it most, and end the suffering of the common person. My work includes basic machines and tools that could make everyday life more simple, like mine-workers. Why let outdated, faulty machines cause more suffering, when something more reliable and simple can help?”

You're smiling, looking down quickly to slide the toe of your boot across the tiles. It's brief, but it allows you to gather your thoughts, “that’s certainly an ambition.”

“Reminds me of someone, no?” Heimerdinger nudges your leg, and you wave him away. Viktor’s eyes roam your features, “You’re also a scientist?”

“I… used to be, when I was young. Now, I simply provide the necessary equipment for the work to continue. Of course, I oversee it, but I refrain from interfering.” Sliding your hands from your pockets, you flip the now crumpled piece of paper through your fingers. 

“Her apprentices thrive, my boy. You should see the work others have accomplished with the tools she offers!.”

“An apprenticeship?” Viktor looked slightly confused, nose scrunching as he shifted his footing to settle more comfortably. Silent, you nod. Knowingly, you refrained from saying anything else. Your neck was starting to hurt, back aching from standing in one place for so long. 

You could have walked around, mingled with others. Yet, what good would it do? Talking with polite faces that would only speak willfully of you behind your back, fake laughter and fake bonding that would, truly, get you nowhere in this society.

You’d much rather suffer the consequences of stagnation when Viktor looked at you with unhidden emotion. He didn’t try to cover them up with indifference. He bares his emotions without vulnerability, how his eyes narrow and eyebrows furrow, how his nose scrunches in annoyance, how his lips tilt in barely-hidden amusement. You can see it all flicker across his face, moments in time captured by another person’s eyes. It's familiar, you realize, how simple humans truly could be. 

“Mm,” you scrunch your face, not liking the term so carelessly thrown around, “I call it a beneficial agreement.”

“Have you found any success?” Viktor retorts, smiling softly at the way you soften in disappointment. Much like his own, you yearn for a solution.

“I have not, my previous apprentice made great advances in his research. He had a great mind, I wish to find one similar.”

Your friend, though, deemed it a perfect time to raise his own voice, “Would something like that interest you, my boy? I theorize your research would thrive much more with her, rather than me.”

Ice water, poured directly over your head.

“Heimerdinger-“

“Professor-“

Honey gold meets yours, and you promptly raise a hand. It’s familiar how you both regard each other. Too comfortable, you were the one who had to cut it here. 

“While I appreciate the gesture,” a warning issued within the group, blaring red, “I cannot find it within myself to consider someone who isn’t interested in the slightest.”

Viktor bites his cheek. Was he interested? He was secure with his position as Heimerdinger's assistant, yet the idea of being able to thrive in his field without watchful eyes sounded very appealing. Even Heimerdinger himself seemed thrilled at the idea of such a position for him. 

“Who said I wasn’t interested?”

Kissing your teeth, taking a small step backwards, hand settling itself back at your side. 

“Even if you were, I’d have to politely decline.”

Viktor, for once, finds himself at a loss for words. It’s like you’ve completely changed within the second Heimerdinger mentioned the possibility of him working under you.

“Decline? Miss,“ Heimerdinger steps closer, but you send a glare his way. It doesn’t hinder his stubbornness, “Viktor is more than qualified to take on the responsibility!”

“He isn’t-“ you stop short, head tilting as you look him over; Mulling over words that could express how against this you truly were. You look at his shoes, his cane, his chest, and finally his eyes. Curious and inviting, so alive with ambition and determination. 

“He isn’t the right fit.”

Heimerdinger almost laughs, “Right fit? Viktor is my assistant, he has enough determination and willpower to climb the ranks of Piltover! Where others would falter, Viktor thrives. Even with his first time attending, the boy has won first place!”

A sense of pride, Viktor smiles, but your huff of annoyance at the statement makes the emotion fade.

“You’re correct, He’s the assistant to the dean of the academy, doing just fine for himself, as you say.”

“He could be much more, and you know this just as well as I do.”

The beginning of an argument is swelling, both Heimerdinger and you sharing glares and scowls. You’ve taken to crossing your arms, all but ignoring Viktor to turn your attention to the Yordle. Top lip twitching, Heimerdinger almost stomps his foot, “must you make things so difficult?”

You laugh, hands rubbing harshly at your eyes, sarcastically smiling, “first place doesn’t really mean anything, his ambition is too straight forward-”

“My ambition has gotten me this far, miss. If I was willing, I could get farther.”

“So you agree?” gaze narrow, you turn to him with sternness, “you choose to stay stagnant in your current position?”

It's his turn to flare with annoyance, and his eyebrows furrow, “No, I choose to benefit from my current position.”

“The boy is learning, absorbing the information that he gets his hands on. Working under you, he would be exposed to a plethora of material- he would rise higher than he ever could working under me.”

You raise a hand, and suddenly Heimerdinger breathes a heavy sigh, “Viktor, you have a brilliant mind, and a unique outlook. Yet, you do not fit the qualification I’ve set for the position.”

“My dear-” you pointedly glared, and he fell silent, “I wish you the best of luck in your research, now if you’ll excuse me gentleman, I have overstayed my welcome.”

Ignoring the calls of your name, you make your way back to the front of the building. Someone tries to step in your path, but with a tilt of your shoulder you easily slide past them, shortly turning them down with a not-so-pleasant glare. 

You had lost yourself in how easy-going it was to converse with Viktor, almost forgetting why you were there in the first place. In reality, he was the most promising individual you’ve come across. Yet, you couldn’t find it within yourself to take him from the place he thrives most. He wanted to change the city for the better, pursuing actual innovation. How could Heimerdinger cast upon you the decision to ask him to leave his home? To cast aside his well earned position?

Your carriage was still waiting patiently among the others. The sun was starting to set, casting golden rays through the trees that lined the street. There was a man on stilts slowly walking down the street, lighting the lamps that stood tall.  The footman smiles when seeing you, opening the door and offering you his hand. 

Settling yourself down in the uncomfortable seating, you look over the paper, crumpled and folded one to many times. The edges were worn with your fiddling, and slowly you unfold it to look over the seemingly never ending list of names. 

First place, Viktor —-

There's a small sliding door that sits between you and the coachman, a little bigger than the size of your hand. Silver hinges with small ornate detailing, and a matching silver latch that swung side to side during the bumpy rides. It slides open smoothly, green eyes and white bushy eyebrows gaze back with a softness akin to a grandfather.

“Where to, my lady?”

Clearing your throat, swallowing thickly, you toss the paper onto the seat beside you. Relaxing, you breathe deeply and take one final look at the museum, “take me home.”

“As you wish, my lady”

------

Your home was large enough to house a great family, yet only you remained. The halls were dark, two wings once occupied with life. Now, only a few rooms from each were used. The library was full of unread books, your laboratory untouched by your hands for years. Your office was where you mainly resided. In front of the windows that climbed up to your ceiling, filling the room with dimmed light that cascaded over the misty hills. The estate's walls were cold, its occupants bundling with layers to defend themselves from sickness. You’ve grown used to it, but your staff still wandered around with pink noses and thick shawls. 

One member of the staff, Miss Aleena, was one of the few who remained. Her grey eyes regarded you with warmth, wrinkles and tired smile showing her years. She was slower, yet still refused to rest. She continued with her work day after day, and sometimes kept you company during her downtime. She made her way around your office easily, stepping over thrown books and crumpled pieces of paper. All to set a wine glass on your desk, though what filled it was not wine. 

“Three animals today, my lady. Deer, fox, or rabbit?”

You hum, still gazing at the rolling hills. The glass was held together with silver framing, a thick set of curtains hanging from the ceiling and pooling on the carpeted floor. Holding out your hand, you wait until she picks the glass back up to set it into your hand. The surface was painted with flowers, all faded. You lift it to your nose, sniffing once before grimacing. 

“Rabbit.”

She chuckles, reaching out to tap your cheek. You almost wave her away, but these were moments you rarely receive. To have another person touch you, human warmth was like no other. 

Spinning in your chair, you set the glass back down and slouch, rubbing harshly at your eyes. Miss Aleena makes her way to the chair that sits in front of your desk, slowly descending with a huff. She doesn’t say anything, rarely does. Instead, she lets you fill the silence with whatever words you want. Her hair, salt and pepper, was pulled back from her slim face. Grey eyes comforting as they watch you, never judging. 

“I’m not thirsty.”

You were lying, of course. The churning of your stomach was the dead give away, and she raises an eyebrow at you in retort. Slowly, you reach out to grab the glass once more, raising it to take a small sip. 

Blood tastes different with each animal. Rabbit, for example, was sweeter than deer, yet more tart than fox. It starts as a treat, warm and inviting, until you swallow and are greeted with the kick at the end. Wincing, you groan. Shivering at the taste, you take another small drink. It was never good to drink too much at a time, you’ve learned the hard way. 

“I don’t know why the gods forsake me,” you grumble, “I ask for a simple thing. One thing, yet time and time again I’m rejected and turned away. Something is always blocking this path, and for whatever reason, I cannot get past it.”

“Maybe it’s something you shouldn't pursue,” her timid voice responds, and you shake your head. Center of your lips stained red, you cross your legs. 

“Do you know what it's like to live for 800 years?”

She smiles, “I know what it’s like for 73.”

“Its a living torture,” you smirk, and she hums. “I cannot sleep, cannot eat or drink what you do. I cannot fall in love, I cannot feel happiness-”

“And why is that, my lady?”

You huff, chest squeezing, “it is a fleeting thing, happiness, love. A human can love their entire life, and feel fulfilled by the end. Humans have the pleasure of an ending, while I live in a purgatory specifically designed for me. No matter how hard I try, I simply cannot die.”

You take another drink, looking over the small pile of papers still left on your desk. Requests and letters signed with black ink mock you, the dates in the top corners taunting. 

“Tell me, then,” she requests, “when you’ve fallen in love.”

The question makes your shoulders tense, flashes of memories blinking past your eyes. Years upon years of memories, yet they all boil down to moments in your life. 

“I-” you clear your throat, “I can’t remember what love feels like. I suppose feelings fade with time,” you look down into your glass, your reflection staring back. 

Miss Aleena sighs, “my dear, I may not be as old as you, but I am still old. I know what love looks like,” she stands from her chair, brushing off the front of her dress. 

“Indulge me, what does it look like?”

“It looked like that gleam in your eyes, my lady.”

Head tilting, you watch a smile creep across her face. Chuckling, you rub your thumb along the top of your hand, cold as always. Miss Aleena reached out, gesturing to your almost empty cup, “would you like a refill?”

You shake your head, and watch as she turns to make your way back to the door. Spinning, you turn your gaze back to the misty hills, how the sun tries to break through, and tries to wrap a golden blanket around the trees that border your land. 

“Maybe I should just have you find me someone.”

Miss Aileena laughed, old and tired, she sounded like her mother, “I think that’s a terrible idea.”

“How so? You’re a great observer, and you follow my instructions without retort!” 

“I don’t know much about science, my lady. If I were to bring someone in, you would find something inadequate.”

She was right, and you knew it. 

The door opens, and a male voice clears his throat. You almost groan, instead you rest your elbow on the arm of your chair, supporting your head on a clenched fist. 

“My lady?” It was Benedict, who’s voice matched his appearance. Silky and smooth, all fine cursive lines that dance across his body. You can hear his smile as he looks at Miss Aleena.

“Ah, hello nana,” he says softly, before the door creaks and he coughs. 

“What is it, Benedict?” Nails tapping, your head rolls to rest against the chair. His body straightens, green eyes roaming over your desk. His cheeks were pink, and he sniffled before speaking.

“You have a visitor- I told him you didn’t take guests, but he was very adamant on seeing you.”

Your tongue lightly grazes your canines, feeling the sharp points. You can barely remember the last time you used them, opting for your kitchen to hunt and gather your drinks. 

They, your hunter, would leave in the morning when the dew still clung to the grass. They’d gather enough animals to last the following week, put them in the freezer, and then go back to their home in the village. Of course, you offered housing here, but it only took them one look at the vine covered rocks to politely decline. 

“How adamant?” You tease, hearing Benedict huff, his clothes rustling.

“He said he wouldn’t leave until he had an audience with you.”

“Hm,” you muse, using your foot to sway the chair back and forth slightly. 

“Let him in, then”

Benedict nods, shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes as he backs from the room, heavy steps receding down the hallway. Miss Aileen’s heels click across the wood as she crosses the room, picking books up from the floor and setting them gently back onto your desk. 

It takes a moment, but soon you can hear the incoming tap of a cane, and the hushed voices from beyond your closed door. 

Hair raising, you refuse to turn in your chair as the door opens once more. Tensing, you can feel your chest clench until his voice tears through the room- assertive and commanding. 

“You have to have a certain kind of nerve to accuse me of not being qualified enough to work under you.”

Your hand drops from your chin, hanging over the arm. Finger running across the tips of your nails, you refrain from sighing.

“What are you doing here, Viktor?”

“I simply find it unacceptable to push me aside and call me unqualified to work under you simply because of my status and ability to do what is required,” his tone is accusatory, anger surrounding him. Slowly, you find your eyebrows furrowing. Your head drops to the side, and you look at him from over your shoulder, chair slightly turned as to not hurt your neck. 

His cheeks are flushed, eyebrows pinched together in anger as he leans against his cane. Miss Aileen stands to the side, eyes wide as she looks at him. His golden eyes falter when they meet yours, flickering between your dazzling gaze. When you turn the chair more, the sun that barely peaks through the clouds catches them, red shining through briefly. 

It makes him shiver, how predatory your gaze was. 

“Miss Aileen, please give us the room,” you don’t break eye contact, instead turning the chair so you face him fully. It gives him the charm to look you over, from your relaxed attire to the red tint that stains your lips. 

Makeup? No, he thinks, your attire betrays the need for makeup. You were home, relaxed enough to not find the need for it. Eyes flicker to the desk, landing on the almost empty glass. 

Ah, the wine. 

“Say again?”

He huffs, feeling that anger flare in his stomach and he stands tall once more, why was he here? He didn’t quite know, following that gut instinct to follow you and prove that he was right for the role he still knew nothing about. 

 “I have worked too hard to get where I am today to simply be pushed aside due to prejudice from a person whom I’ve never even met-“

“You think prejudice is the reason for my rejection?” There’s a flicker of disappointment, a sadness that festers behind it. You sigh, rubbing at your eyes before sitting up in your chair, “Viktor, listen,” your voice is softer this time, sharp edge dulled. 

“You want to create things, bring goodness to the world. My task is the complete opposite-“

“How can you come to that conclusion when you haven’t even asked me for my opinion on the matter? For a scientist, you come to conclusions rather abruptly.”

Shoulders sagging, you reach out and grasp your wine glass, the thick liquid-

Thick liquid?

Viktor watches as you take a sip, the sides of the glass stained a deep ruby red as it settles back at the bottom. It’s crimson, shining in the light and the true answer to what sits in the glass whispers itself in his ear softly. 

“Is that blood?”

You smile, a sad tilt of lips, raising the glass in a congratulation before setting it back down. You push yourself from the chair, silk gown dancing around you like a breeze, it makes it seem like you are floating, gliding your way around the desk to lean against it. 

“If it is? What would you do, Viktor?”

His breath catches in his throat, and he mulls over what he could possibly say. 

“If I told you, my life goes against the natural order, would you believe me?”

Your hands brace behind you, feet crossing at the ankles as you regard him with a glint in your eyes. You're assessing him. Watching as his eyes flicker around you, watch as he tenses, jaw clenching. Watch as his hand grips the pommel of his cane just a little tighter, how he leans away from you. 

“Since you think yourself qualified, I’ll give you my symptoms and you come up with a theory as to what I am cursed with,” you spit the words. Viktor finds himself nodding, going against his own natural order as you push away from the desk. Making your way to the tall book shelf that lined the walls, your fingers skin across the fabric spines of book after book. Shoes muted by the carpet, you move silently. 

“I cannot sleep, I cannot get sick, from what you’ve just noticed; I drink blood.” Slowing, you curl your finger around the top of a book, pulling it gently from its place. It was almost fully black, silver edging flaking off. A red piece of ribbon, frayed at the end, was hanging from the top edge. A book mark ready for use, he guessed. 

“I live longer than normal humans, and I cannot die.”

Silence, and you refrain from moving from the wall of books. You seem to fit in perfectly, a timeless beauty. Yet, as he looks away to gaze back at the cup of blood, he sighs. 

“Common, Viktor,” you whisper, teasing, “you were so vocal earlier. What happened?”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he murmurs, taking a step back because now you’re right in front of him. Holding that book out for him to take, “no, you shouldn’t have. Now, you have to face the consequences of your own pride.”

Hesitant, he takes the book, looking over the cover and when he registers the words sewn into the fabric he almost laughs.

“A vampire?”

“Mm,” you hum, crossing your arms as you make your way back to your desk, leaning back. He tilts the book, letting it fall open to a random page. He briefly reads over it, pictures hand drawn, cursive words in a foreign language underneath. The paper was tinged yellow, wrinkled on the edges like it’d been thrown into a bath of water and then dried again. 

“An immortal scientist passing down knowledge through their apprentices, what an ambition,” he mocks your words, snapping the book shut and looking back up. You’re frowning, and after turning your upper body to grab the glass, you twist it to allow the little remaining liquid to coat the sides. Faded blue flowers in front of a wave of blood, you don't look at him anymore, shoulders slumped. 

“I don’t teach them, I simply have a task for them to complete. In return, they’re given access to my abundance of gathered knowledge.”

“And what is this task I’m so unqualified for, exactly?”

“Viktor,” you sigh, eyes closing. He can feel his chest squeeze, and he breathes deeply before continuing, “how do you know I’m unwilling to help you?”

“Help me? Viktor, if you had the opportunity to create death, would you?”

“Death?” His eyebrows furrow, and when you nod he can slowly see the pieces falling into place. The book feels heavy in hand, his thumb gently rubbing across the indented words that title the front. 

The Known Ways Of Vanquishing A Vampire

“I want to die, and I cannot touch the tools that will create it. I need someone to do it for me, so I’ll ask again; if you had the opportunity to create death, would you?”

His brain tells him to decline. His whole life, he’s sworn to help people survive. To bring them longer life, to cure them of the hindrance that plagues them. Yet, his gut urges him to look at you. To see what you truly looked like, he can see your fatigue. He can see how your shoulders slouch, how slow you really move. To others, you were a monster. A demon who comes at night to drink their bodies dry. To him, in the moment, he simply saw a woman cursed. Forever to wander, never to truly rest. 

“Are you suffering?” His voice is quiet. Lips lifting, you nod once, “yes, Viktor.”

Fingers tapping once against his cane, his gut overrides his brain, and he speaks his decision into the air with a stern voice. 

“Then I will help you.” 

Although there’s hesitation clinging to you, you speak with a soft voice, “let’s get started then, shall we?”

Want to be tagged? comment or send a message! ill gladly tag you <3

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Can you please do young hayden coming home to you after meeting some "fans" but lots of them just gave him hate (Since he got hate when he was acting in SW) and he just cries in your arms needing to be comforted and assured.

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN stepped into the apartment quietly, clearly not wanting you to notice him. His steps were slow, feet barely lifting from the floor, just gliding against the wooden panels. Yet, what he didn't know was that you were curled on the couch, already glancing up at him from your book. Your eyes noticed the slouched set of his shoulders and the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, as if not knowing what to do to them filly.

He looked like a kicked puppy.

"Hayden?" you called gently, setting your book aside.

He didn't answer right away, and you already wanted to stand up from the soft cushion, but he was faster, getting on the couch you were on, using your chest as his personal space to lay down. His cheek squished against your chest, one hand wrapping around your waist and the other falling by his side

"Hey," you mumbled softly, hands coming up to his tousled curls "What happened?"

His lip trembled, and he tried to shake his head, but the moment your hand touched his hair, he broke. A sharp, shuddering breath escaped him as he pulled you into a desperate hug, burying his face in your cleavage.

"I--" His voice cracked. "Just a bad day."

You wrapped your arms tightly around him, one hand gently stroking the back of his head, twirling the curl around your finger. "What was bad, baby? Tell me."

He stayed quiet for a moment, breathing shaky. "The event," he mumbled "Some of them... they just wouldn't stop. Kept saying shit about me, about my acting, about the movies, straight to my fucking face. It was... loud. And mean. Really mean."

Your heart squeezed painfully. "Oh, Hayden."

"I tried to ignore it," he went on, voice muffled against your skin. "But it was just... I don't know. It felt like they weren't there to meet me. They were there to tear me apart. It was so fucking exhausting."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. You squished his cheeks in your palms, his eyes glassy and too full of doubt. "You listen to me now," you said firmly, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. "None of that shit matters. Not a word of it. They don't know you, Hay. They don't know how hard you work, how much you care, how... amazing you are."

His brows pulled together, and he let out a shaky laugh. "You have to say that. You're biased."

"I'm not biased," tone serious. "I'm honest. You're talented as hell, and anyone who says otherwise is just... I don't know, bitter or jealous or a miserable asshole. Take your pick."

A weak smile tugged at his lips. "You think I'm talented, huh?"

"I know you're talented," you corrected, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. "And I know you're also way too good to let a bunch of jerks get to you. They don't deserve you."

He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch. "Why does it feel so heavy, though? Like... like they're right, and I'm just..." He trailed off, swallowing hard.

"Hey," you said softly, fingers sliding back into his hair. "They're not right. Not even close. You're incredible, Hayden. And if you ever doubt that, I'll remind you. Every damn day if I have to."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[the-kingshound]

I loved the update just because it exists. I loved the bit with the mounts (especially Arthur's trying to ground MC) but my tiny bit of concrit is the "I know you're a mage" convo feels...shoehorned? Like we get the panic attack and Arthur just says he doesn't think the same way as Uther and it's just...It feels (imo) that the Hound once more just accepts Arthur at face value again? I loved the rewrite making the Hound more wary of Arthur, and this kinda felt like a slip? Idk it just feels like there could be...more there. Or perhaps Arthur will try to revisit the topic? Cause like idk about you but if I was just told "I don't want to do anything to you buuuuuut people in my court might," I'd feel threatened and like...I wouldn't believe a single word prior to the "my court might" part. Cause like the Hound is a political prisoner, the nobles (Our sister in law is amazing) made that clear, so it's just another chain Arthur is adding, a little "Be careful love, you don't know what SOMEONE might do if they found out you're a mage :) :)", you know?

And as someone who played as a Hound who is absolutely dreading this marriage (they literally feel like a prisoner) that whole thing kinda felt as if that wasn't an option? Like for example, the walking into the church thingy you have: I feel better, I'm not alone, and the "I am strong and proud" options, but no real option for...just numb? I personally just headcanoned the Hound was disassociated to the point they won't remember the day at all. (I kinda hope we might just get to breakdown with our brothers, or idk alone in the dark)

Also I forget, but is this a game where we have to rack up romance points to lock in? Or one we choose the route? Because I honestly didn't feel that my Hound would want to talk to anyone during what is (to them) a celebration of their collaring/house's defeat.

BUUUUT I truly do hope you take this as constructive. You won't please all of us, and you shouldn't try to. I love that you gave us even this and you are incredibly strong and lovely for pushing through everything. If I am out of line, feel free to ignore or tell me off and I'll just smash my Hound into a better mold for the story lol. After all, it is your story, tell it how you want.

I would really like to give you a long response to your very helpful feedback, but I fear I am lacking the energy to do so. I just want you to know that I hear you, and in truth you make really good points.

1) yeah I do admit I was getting close to burnout with writing in this update, and that scene in particular might have suffered for it. I'll revise it, and hopefully try to not make the interaction feel so jarring. (Note: did you try to pick the more... aggressive option? It goes in a different way, maybe it is less weird?)

2) you are totally right on the options for the marriage - especially because you can play a very numb MC. I'll either edit or add that option. Ohh and the breakdown with the siblings is peak idea. I'm writing that down.

3) as for the romance points: this game is focused strongly on MC. You can choose the pace of the relationship your Hound develops, and for romance, you need to first have some platonic points with said RO. Platonic means in this case that MC wants to spend time with them, and doesn't have to go further than what will become a lifelong friendship.

You do have to pick at least an option to have platonic points with a RO, but you won't get locked out of anything in this game. Every choice shapes your personal Hound's story, this is not a game that punishes you, or that is focused solely on romance.

Thank you for sending this in! This kind of feedback, especially if worded clearly and kindly lik you did, can be so helpful and I love getting it even if it makes me pause and rethink some things.

[miwiheroes]

Hii

I am a mileven shipper comoletely open to byler, so I watched the lawyer vid

And all the things are pretty convincing but...I don't think Mike was jealous in the airport scene, because then he would have known the painting Will was doing was for him, but instead, even Finn confirmed Mike was clueless about it, so maybe Mike was just...idk....distant from Will and only was trying to rebuild their friendship, remember that he tried to call Will and Will never called him, so maybe he thought Will was mad at him and that's the reason he acts that way, plus Cara said thah you only see a friendship evolving so uhm- idk, ty for reading this and I hope you can adress this "doubt" I have

Hi!

El said in her letter 'I think there is someone he likes, because he has been acting 'weird'", which is for the benefit of the audience's view of Mike's emotions later on.

That's the first mention of the painting, and it's already established that it's an object with romantic intentions (but it's to the audience). So when the viewer sees Will holding the painting in the airport, they get the inkling that Will likes Mike, because it's for him, and he's been acting weird about it.

As for Mike's feelings about the painting.... you're not supposed to know.

Let's lay out the facts of the painting storyline here:

He doesn't want to hug Will at the airport.

He panics when he sees a painting that he has been told is is maybe for a girl.

He pretends to ignore Will all day and is overly affectionate with El (but then the viewer finds out he has actually taken notice of everything he's done).

He is annoyed when Will accuses him of not reaching out.

He feels like he lost Will.

When Will has more confidence in his relationship with Mike he takes the painting with him in his bag.

When Mike finds out the painting is for him he is amazed.

When he finds out that 'el commissioned it' he's confused.

From the Rink o Mania fight, we find out that Mike has been paying attention to Will all day and claims that it ruined the whole day. We also see him offended that Will's annoyed he didn't call, and he's offended that Will didn't call. He asks 'why am I the bad guy?' as if to accuse Will of doing the same thing that he's being accused of.

So, back to the original point about him being jealous. Yes, he is. He saw that Will had made a painting, and then he asks nervously what the painting is (the tone of his voice makes it sound like he already has some idea, but just wants confirmation). Will then brushes it off.

I don't think his non-hug and the painting are linked, I think the reason he didn't hug him is because he didn't want to feel something yknow. He romanticises any sort of interaction with Will, and he doesn't want to show his true feelings in front of everyone.

When Will brushes it off, he is instantly no longer interested. Miscommunication occurs, because while Will never said 'it's not for you', Mike assumes it's not for him because of the way that Will doesn't bring any attention to it, and makes it seem unimportant. The reason he's jealous is because yeah, he did just get confirmation that El could be right.

SOOOO when Will attacks Mike for not calling, Mike gets angry because he's like 'well you did the same thing by moving on with someone else' aka painting for someone else . (Will giving Mike his drawings has always been their thing as well, so it hurts even more that its not for him this time). That is why he later apologises by saying 'I feel like I lost you'. It is his explanation for why he got annoyed at him in Rink o Mania. The 'I feel like I lost you' basically means he was jealous and a self-pitying idiot (his words lmao), and has decided to own up to things and say that Will didn't deserve that. That was why he got angry in the first place. Because he felt like he had lost Will to someone else. So yes he was jealous.

To make this romantic.... is easy. El in the beginning could have easily said he's painting it for someone, maybe he's painting it for a friend, but Mike heard that it's specifically for someone Will likes, so the fact he feels like he lost Will to someone in a romantic sense, means that he also wants him romantically. He never gets this possessive when Dustin or Lucas get girlfriends.

Now, when the painting gets given to Mike again: He realises it is for him and gets super excited. Will doesn't need to tell him explicitly it's for him, because it's a painting of their DND characters.

But when Will said that El commissioned it, we can see the weirdness and the uneasiness on his face, because he's having an internal conflict that the audience cannot see. And again, WE ARENT SUPPOSED TO OKAY

Finn Wolfhard was also confused about this interaction, asking the Duffer Brothers why Mike's so clueless here. (he said this at a con or interview or something) He's also said in the past that Mike does not know about Will loving him. When asked, the Duffer Brothers responded with: "Don't worry, it'll pay off in the end". Meaning we will eventually know what Mike was thinking/ Mike will find out the truth. And the fact it's being dragged over 2 seasons and left for the final one, means it's important.

oof okay sorry that was such a RANTTT AHH but seriously, he was definitely sad about Will making the painting possibly for someone else, shown in his anger in the Rink o Mania fight, and the fact he said he thought he had lost him as a reason for his anger.

As for your comment about Cara? That is not what she said. You're saying that she said 'You only see a friendship evolving', which is not what she said.

She says "Mike goes on his own journey... and Will is not ready to grow up and leave that friendship." then she says, "So I think in season 5....' which Noah looks at her very suspiciously about, so she says something else.

She then says (keeping in mind the Season 5 comment), "Cause I know that as an actor, you're thinking about things as you're approaching it from an actor's perspective" THEN SHE SAYS "But i think from a story perspective, you just see like a friendship evolving" "People come apart and they come together"

Then Noah begins to say "And I will say that..." and then goes "No im not gonna say anything."

What does this mean? Well, she's saying that as actors, they know what is going to happen to Mike and Will in season 5. But from the audience's perspective, they may only see a friendship evolving. In season 5 that might change. She's not saying 'oh they only have a friendship' no no, she's describing the fact they're changing, and describing what the audience likely sees and what the audience may be confused about. Also this is a FRIENDS TO LOVERS ARC,,,,, of course they are sometimes going to be described as having a friendship.

and dont take the actors words as gospel! they were put on the spot anyways and dont have time to figure out everything they wanna say

[jweekgoji]

iLOVE your works 💗💗💗 a sequel to your most recent would be amazing…

maybe sentinel and starscream come at a close tie so they both get a special treat~…

Sentinel/Prime!Reader/Starscream [TFO]

tw: nsf//w (minors, don't read please), power imbalance, jealousy, competitive behavior, slight posessive behavior, master/subordinate relationships. word count: 1,4k additional tags: Prime!Reader, cybertronian!readr, gender-neutral!reader (but they have valve in this one), double valve penetration, valveplug, threesome, rivalry between Starscream and Sentinel, pre-TFO events, sub!reader, dom!Sentinel, dom!Starscream. a/n: I will forever not stop making sentinel the most pathetic one in this duo. thank you for your request~

Ever since that blessed day, you can't help, but thank Alchemist for the idea he once gave you.

There was no doubt that ever since you had confronted two of the most arrogant mechs you had ever seen in your entire life, you now finally had a chance to have some rest.

The only thing left to do was to lazily keep track of the score, watching as these two faithfully carried out your every slightest errand, eagerly awaiting their reward like faithful dogs.

'One point in Starscream's favor, two in Sentinel's favor...Six points for Starscream, five for Sentinel....'

All it took was to sit in your comfy office, minding your own business while your two assistants ran back and forth, handling your assignments.

Some of these were extremely important; some were just dusting at the bottom of the list, waiting in the dark for their time. Just for those types of occasions, sometimes it's nice to have someone like Starscream and Sentinel.

You could mark the one's success in your notes, and at the same minute, the other would burst in, immediately taking all of your attention away. Such a harmless competition, you didn't even specify what exactly you could offer them for their hard work, but the barely disguised implication in your tone left not that much room for guessing.

Until...

“Congratulations, you have an equal number of points,” you announced, an easy, almost perfect smile on your face, the one you always wear in public.

“There can't be-” Starscream begins, until he is interrupted by Sentinel.

“With all due respect, but there's definitely some kind of mistake here,” he gets in front of Starscream, an almost offended look on his face. Him? On equal score with Starscream? That sounds like a very personal insult.

The member of the high guard only huffs in frustration and shoves the blue-and-gold bot forcibly aside, almost pushing him down to the floor.

“You should do a recount. One has to be the winner,” the jet crosses his servos over his chassis, pede tapping lightly against the floor in a barely concealed display of anger.

“Someone like me, obviously,” Sentinel sneers, his servo settling down at the center of his chassis as if trying to emphasize the sincerity of his words. “I am your advisor, after all, no wonder I'm better at dealing with your errands.”

Your optics only flicker between Starscream and Sentinel, silently observing their conflict. You would probably laugh at this if you hadn't had to endure it for many, many cycles.

“There is no mistake here, my calculations are correct,” you say simply, placing your servos on the surface of your desk. “However, I am not satisfied with the quality of your work. You will still have a chance to...prove yourself, one last time.”

Who knew that your seemingly innocuous game, which was supposed to resolve what seemed to be...an inexhaustible conflict between your two subordinates, could lead to more than unexpected consequences?

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel an ounce of pleasure in this arrangement.

“Can't you stop twitching for just one minute? You are getting in the way,” Starscream hissed softly, throwing a sharp glare in his rival's direction.

“It's not my fault you're taking up...ngh- so much space,” Sentinel groans, blue optics flickering slightly at the momentary shock of pleasure that runs along his spine.

Your poor, poor advisor can't help but let out another shameless moan as he barely thrusts forward, the tip of his spike pressing against Starscream's own, rooted deep inside you.

“If you have any protests, you can always leave,” the jet hummed. His servos tightened their hold on your thighs, spreading them further apart to make a room for two.

Sentinel's golden wings bristled at these words, and soon after, he leaned closer to you, only to start bickering with the other mech right behind your shoulder. Oh, the sheer audacity!

“Like I would,” Sentinel purred, almost in spite of the leader of the high guard. “As if I can trust you how to properly care for our dear Prime over here.”

That arrogant, self-centered bastard, how ironic— if only you weren't there, Starscream would have wiped that smirk off his faceplate this instant.

“Are you going to do something already?” you, once again, have to be between the two mechs, both literally and figuratively now. “I'll fall into recharge faster, unless one of you actually starts moving.”

That commanding, demanding voice of yours, the one you use to remind them that despite how intimate and vulnerable the position you all are in, you're still a Prime. Their leader.

Until you feel both of their spikes twitching inside you, a light blue blush spreads all over the cheek plates. Primus, help you with these two. You can't even boss around your own subordinates without them getting head over heels for you, and here you thought that would have a negative effect on them.

But are you really that surprised?

Starscream is first to assist your orders, as he bowed his head, close enough to plant a lingering kiss on your neck, teasing the sensitive surface. It's best to focus on your needs now, rather than that too pleased with himself advisor that keeps giving him challenging glances.

“I bet I can satisfy our Prime better than you do, Starscream,” words thrown so carelessly, only pushed the never-ending conflict back to the surface.

To keep his own words, Sentinel pushes his hips forward, igniting a soft gasp from you. Having both of them together inside you was certainly a new experience. If your humble advisor lacked the length that the high guard had, Sentinel had the girth, stretching your inner walls with every single slow thrust.

Starscream on the contrary, compensates for everything that Sentinel couldn't give; with the combination of a consistent feeling of fullness, his spike easily presses against a spot deep inside that makes you see stars.

“Like you ever satisfied them for once,” Starscream snapped back, the red optics dangerously glowing in the poorly lit quarters.

It takes time, at first, for both of them to finally find the pace that actually lets them move without bothering the other. One thrusts in, then pulls out, then for the other to do the same.

 How embarrassing, utterly disgusting, even, the both mechs keep thinking. Even such a short moment of pleasure and intimacy leaves Starscream mentally gagging at the feeling, with Sentinel having pretty much the same thoughts.

 Only briefly, for a short moment, they cooperate to push together in one time, both spikes rubbing against each other in the tightness of your valve.

 The looks of embarrassment and awkwardness are totally worth it, you believe; maybe that will teach them not to cross each other's paths anytime soon, instead of fighting over your attention like sparklings.

Frag, you hiss through gritted teeth; no matter how much they may annoy you with their constant quarrels, they're pretty damn good at working together, sometimes. Maybe you need to organize this more often, just to relax and have a break in their company, which is... a rarity.

The constant stimulation is almost too much to bear, thoughts are too hard to concentrate on, and you barely pay attention to them, as you faintly hear them insulting each other. Primus knows how much they had done it for today.

Finally, you reach for both of them, grasping Sentinel's chin with one servo, bringing him closer, while the other servo gently tilts Starscream's head down to meet your lips, releasing all the buildup of tension in a single, lengthy, hungry kiss.

 Sentinel can be heard practically whining at the sight, begging for the same lovely affection you just had to give his enemy right in front of him, only for you to kiss the needy advisor in return.

As your own overload approaches quickly, your optics begin to dim, and you can barely hold back anymore. That delicious tightening of your valve around the both spikes makes Starscream and Sentinel hold back, just in order not to overload from that sensation alone.

Slowly, you tilt Sentinel's chin slightly back, leaving your advisor panting heavily, glossa out, desperately trying to catch his own breath, and cool down the overheating frame. The soft huffs and puffs of Starscream don't go unnoticed by you, no matter how hard he tries to look all calm and collected behind you.

“I think...I need another round to sum up the scores.”

[ghost-bison]

a christopher eccleston appreciation post

i will never say this enough because i don't know enough words, nor do i think such words exist, that could even begin to summarize how much i love christopher eccleston, but... i love christopher eccleston. and, more importantly, i have a deep-rooted respect for that man.

i started doctor who as, let's be honest, a sci-fi hater, forcing myself because i was obsessed with david tennant, and i was kind of dreading the first series because of this. but i was dead wrong.

he broadened my mind, gave me so many laughs, and so many cries, and i'm not the first to say that whenever eccleston is on the screen you just can't take your eyes off him, even when he's not supposed to be the main focus of the scene.

the way he can switch from silly goose to traumatized soldier in a matter of seconds will never cease to amaze me. or how he can play with both like he's on a swing by balancing it out with sarcasm?

i think whoever doesn't give him the title role in their shows/films is either an idiot, or they know the main character just isn't always the best.

i think it's downright idiotic and shameful that he gets rejected from ever playing some shakespeare just because of his northern accent (they're just posh elitist pos). now that he's older, and that times are evolving (i mean, i hope the world of theater is vibing with this evolution, but i'm not delusional), i hope we get to see him portray a character like leontes in winter's tale cause i know he'd be absolutely perfect for the role, and who better than shakespeare (this character especially, with his nuances and highs and lows and breakdowns and breakthroughs) to match acting like his?

saw an article where eccleston talked about how the moment he really knew he wanted to be an actor was when he had to wear mascara for a play, and had enjoyed it. i think he talks about it in his autobiography too (you should read it, btw, it's frankly affordable, and he happens to be a marvelous writer as well).

eccleston knows he is mistakenly type-cast, because of his background, as macho men and tough blokes in general. he's aware that it's kind of a big part of his culture. again, he talks about it i think in the very first chapter, how for instance he used to dress up as james bond, the pinnacle of "masculinity", which i think was a disguise in the metaphorical sense of the term, to mask his delicacy and femininity (or at least, that's my interpretation of it).

in his biography, eccleston talks about the differences between him and his dad, ronnie: he was surprised, as a child, whenever his father's affection manifested as a kiss or a hug, cause that usually wasn't his father's way of doing things. he compares it to how he, in contrast, has the habit of kissing his own son, albert, and telling him he loves him.

you can find it as well in how he talks about his anorexia, his body dysmorphia and, i think we can call it that, gender dysphoria. he's from a time when those concepts didn't even exist, they weren't a thing to the public eye. my father and my step-father, both feminine men in their own way, and both around eccleston's age, both told me about the struggle that it represented, not being the stereotype of the macho tough guy, and being surrounded by boys who didn't struggle with that issue. it made my dad a junkie, my stepdad a depressive artist, and, apparently, it made eccleston an anorexic actor.

i think it takes a lot of courage for people that age (the boomer generation as we call them), especially men, from whom we expect toxic masculinity, masculinity pushed to an extreme, to be able to openly call it out and dissect it into what it is: a ridiculous standard. but to be a PUBLIC FIGURE, in his 60s, and still find the strength to express it? damn. takes guts, i think.

most of us on this website, we're babies. most of us are at most in their thirties. the millenials and the gen z, and now the gen alpha, we take that for granted. or get offended and scandalized that being able to express oneself isn't yet a basic standard.

but then, i talk to my mum, and i realize that she had to stray from her catholic, sexist education, she had to make up her own mind about things in order for me to be born a free spirit. and that's just considering my mum's a cishet.

christopher eccleston expressed in other words that he doesn't fully consider himself to be cisgendered. i have mad respect for the way he talks about it, and for even talking about it at all.

then, there's his honesty. the more interviews i watch, the more it impresses me. he knows honesty goes hand in hand with dignity. i'm sorry but i'm tired of people who are nice all the time. you never know when they're being honest, and maybe some of them are, who knows. but i'm not stupid enough to think that so many people are just pure sunshine all the time (respect for tennant for lashing out publically about transphobia, i think he passed the test).

eccleston? he knows how to be both brutally honest and yet respectful at the same time. no ukulele apology from this man and holy fuck, it feels good!

i've seen him call russel t davies out for his lack of professionalism on the set of doctor who, and then list him amongst the great writers he's worked with. which makes me want to believe eccleston's side, because, if you're always either too polite, or too full of spite about eveything, who's to say you're not the problem? i've got way less trouble believing you if you can stay unbiased about a person you're having beef with than if suddenly everything said person does turns into shit just cause you don't like them. that's just maturity and wisdom.

one last thing i love about eccleston is that he is interested in other people's lives. there's a critic by marcus berkmann in his book that perfectly expresses my point: "you know what to expect from the autobiographies of most actors, i think: anecdotes, charm, more than mild self-satisfaction and faux-modesty by the bucketload. but christopher eccleston is not most actors".

and that's it. watch him in interviews and at convention panels, where he lets his younger co-stars speak before himself, and seizes the occasion when journalists ask him questions that are meant to make him talk about himself to praise his writers and other actors instead.

read his autobiography, which is both a love letter to his dad and a big let's-be-honest about the struggles of growing up poor and his personal struggles, because he thinks raising awareness is just as important as protecting himself.

look at his instagram posts where he unabashedly disses the monarchy and stays true and loyal to his background even after getting a taste of money. and his other posts where he shares his love for acorns and spending time with his kids.

i've seen him nearly break down in shame and regret on television for having stolen a kid's crisps in primary school. and not trying to find lame excuses for his behaviour. no ukulele apology, just facts, just christopher eccleston showing us what masculinity in its purest, most beautiful form should be about

[bapeach]

Not an early bird

A bit of a shorter story, hope you guys don't mind! Again, sorry for any mistakes. Let me know what you guys think :p

Pairing(s): Azzi Fudd x female!reader Word count: 1.3k+ Summary: You were not a morning person, unlike your girlfriend, but you suppose mornings aren't so bad when you get to wake up to the love of your life. ------------

If there's one thing people knew about you, it's that you were not a morning person. Your team could attest to that, especially Paige. The blonde still couldn't stop talking about the time you almost gave her a black eye when she tried waking you up to get to the bus on time (it's not your fault, really. Who the hell thinks it's a good idea to wake someone up by jumping on their bed and screaming in their face?). You also know KK wouldn’t dare to wake you up to play games anymore, not after you locked her out of her dorm as a punishment (you still don't know why you had the key to her dorm and she didn't, but you found it best to not question these types of things).

So no, you were not an early bird. Not unless you counted staying up till the crack of dawn playing video games or binge-watching shows. Your girlfriend, Azzi, had tried many times to make you an early riser, though always being unsuccessful. She’d also tried to get you to wake up early once to watch the sunrise with her. You ended up agreeing, seeing as you couldn’t really say no to her, but that resulted in you falling asleep against her not even 2 minutes after getting to the lookout spot. After that she stopped trying, choosing to tease you about your sleeping habits instead.

Currently you were having an amazing dream. You were out on the beach with Azzi, hearing the waves gently crash on the shore. She was wearing her black bikini with a pair of your sunglasses. The ocean was the most beautiful blue, with the shore being a gorgeous white sand. None of that mattered, though. You only had eyes for Azzi. The way her skin shone in the sun, looking softer than ever. The small smile she had on her lips as she leaned back, trying to soak in all the sunbeams. Listening to her mumble about how you two should go out for dinner later, you could barely pay attention. You could only think about how her velvety, calming voice could lull you right to sleep. 

The scene started fading from your mind as you felt yourself waking up. Even with your eyes still closed, you could tell it was early, no sun shining through the curtains yet. You don't get the chance to get upset at the time though, feeling a finger gently tracing the slopes of your face. The trail started on your forehead, going down the side of your face, swiping softly on the skin just below your lips. You feel Azzi's finger climb back up to your forehead, smoothing out your eyebrows before letting her finger slide down your nose. 

While you'd rather never play basketball again than wake up early (Okay, maybe you were being a tiny bit dramatic), you couldn't help but smile a little. I mean, how could you not? Your head resting on Azzi's chest, feeling it go up and down, hearing her soft breathing and her heartbeat like a beautiful song. You breathe in deeply before letting out a contented sigh. You think this might just be heaven. The warmth of Azzi's body heat keeping away the chill that lingers in your room from the cold night. You hear raindrops trickling against the window, the gentle rhythm making you feel even drowsier. As you inhale, you smell the lingering scent of the skin care products your girl used before bed, mixed with the scent so unique to Azzi. The scent that makes you feel more at peace than you've ever been. 

You squeeze her closer to you, wishing you could just sink into her until you become one. "G'morning baby," she whispers, knowing loud noises in the morning overwhelm you. You open your eyes and crane your neck to look at her. You feel your heart skip a beat. You can't believe that this is your life. Waking up to the love of your life as she smiles softly at you, letting you know that no matter what, everything will be okay. You groan a little in response, your voice cracking from not being used for a while. You send her a sleepy grin, crawling up a little so you can put your head in the crook of her neck.

“Did you sleep well?” she mutters, her hand sliding to your neck to play with your baby hairs. “Mhm,” you hum, pressing a kiss to her neck. You grin against her skin as you sense a slight shiver going through her body. “You?” you ask huskily, giving her another squeeze. “Yeah,” she breathes.

While you love your sleep dearly, you’re glad Azzi is an early bird. Being able to just lay in her arms as you wake up with no need to rush to get ready. (Which happens a lot when she doesn’t stay the night). It’s moments like these where you feel like you could conquer the world. You feel like you’ve never felt peace before meeting the brunette, at least not like this. 

As you’re laying there, you’re already trying to find the best ways to convince the smaller girl to stay in bed all day. Who cares if Paige wanted to go to the mall for new shoes or that KK needed to go get Crumbl cookies? You could already imagine it, cuddling with Azzi for a while before she grabs her latest book and starts whispering the words to herself (She swears she doesn’t). She’d be wearing the little reading glasses that you love but she hates because they “make her look like a librarian”. You’d lay next to her with your own book in your hands, or maybe you’d play the game you’d been wanting to play for ages on your switch.

Letting go of the brunette, you roll over to grab your phone from your nightstand. Seeing as it was still dark in your room, you figured it was probably around 9 AM, the rain making the sky gloomier than usual. Your eyes widen as you whip your head back around. “7 AM?!” you rasp, your voice cracking, “What is wrong with you, you insane woman?!”. She giggled at your sudden exclamation and the slight horror in your eyes. The same giggle that usually sounded like music to your ears sounded evil this time instead.

You flop back down on top of her with a huff, your head on her chest as you sling an arm across her stomach and a leg across hers. “Sleep,” you say with a playful frown, closing your eyes again. She chuckles, your head bobbing up and down in jolts as she laughs. “We need to get up soon anyways to go meet the girls,” she says, her grin evident in her voice. “Shhhhhh,” you grumble, “sleeeeep.”. You can feel her smile as you place your hand on her mouth to shut her up. Returning your hand to her waist, you hear her mumble lovingly, “You’re such a grumpy baby in the mornings.”. You don’t pay her any mind however, already being lulled back to sleep as she softly scratches your back. Azzi places a kiss on your forehead as you nuzzle against her chest, trying to get more comfortable. Finally happy with your position and the returned silence, you exhale contently, a small smile on your face as you start drifting off again.

Looking down at you, the younger girl smiles in adoration as she closes her eyes again as well. She supposed you two could sleep in for once. Knowing KK and Paige, they’d be late anyway, Paige taking ages to get ready while KK is probably too busy making TikToks to realize what time it is. So she falls back asleep to your soft snores, feeling safe, wrapped up in your arms. And even as the sun starts peeking through your curtains and the outside world starts waking up, you remain blissfully asleep in your cozy, little cocoon, without a worry in your mind.

[carrymelikeimcute]

No cis actor should ever play queer/trans characters, I do not understand how you can continue to champion ONeill for this.

If he was the amazing aware ally the canyon is making him out to be, then he would have reflected before taking this role and instead of profiting of the trans community done the actually supportive thing and let a trans actor have the role. (I’m not saying that he necessarily had bad intentions but to be a good ally wanting to do good is not enough, you have to actually put the work in and educate yourself!)

Go support trans actors of color and trans women instead of simping for some straight-passing cis guy!

0/10 rage bait.

Must try harder.

What is this word vomit? Why are we pretending that being 'queer' means NOT being cis???? The majority of queer (gay, lesbian, bi, pan, ace/aro etc) people ARE cis????

We don't even KNOW Con's identity because he's private and other than coming out as being part of the queer community, we have no idea what that looks like or means for him.

What character is even being discussed here? (Possibly in reference to Val, a character with no concrete gender identity, who often went by male pronouns and was never confirmed to be trans or anything other than VAL).

Trans actors of colour?? Wasn't aware Con had ever taken a role as a POC?? What are you even blathering about?

'Straight passing' - absolutely laughable. Say you think all queer men should be femme stereotypes without saying it.

Also, lolling at the 'canyon' mention - because it shows whoever wrote this 1. is in the ofmd fandom and 2. likely stans Ed and Stede - two GAY characters played by STRAIGHT, CIS, MEN. (Rhys has also done roles in drag and made debatably transphobic jokes in his stand-up ("I like transformers...chicks with dicks") but obviously, they can do no wrong. Because they're the straightwashed, comfortingly non-sexual gays.

Critical thinking skills of a lemon.

[zhongrin]

i'm buzzing from coffee so here we go. sorry if i missed anyone, my memory is akin to the invertebrates sometimes. also i'm tagging people who may not even know i exist in this, so if you don't want to be tagged, no hard feelings, lmk and i can remove it ᰔᩚ

ps. this is all /pos, /lh, and /genuine with some /silly sprinkled in

@queen-belial i have 0 idea who astarion or durge is, and i have never played baldur's gate in my life. but nevertheless, know that i am always so utterly enamored at the rare crumbs of art and fics you post.

@abyssmal-skies you're one of the few people who are still into traditional art and i think it's amazing!!!

@harmonysanreads with her crazy deep in-depth character analysis proficient brain writes banger after bangers of yandere works that will make you shiver in a good way.

@brynn-lear is yet another lv.999 yandere writer, with her plot twists, unique ideas, signature art, → !!!GAMES!!! <-, and cannibalism tendencies.

@mochinon-yah with her amazing amazing art and personality as sweet as her name.

@euniveve with her series and worldbuilding and amazing arts like girl how does your brain work i need to study it.

@pranabefall who cuts open my heart and stabs far too many needles in it before sewing it back up (wow thanks, doctor) with her beautifully painful fics.

@jessamine-rose the concept of playing with dollhouses as a blog 'theme' itself is already so unique, but the worldbuilding and character building jess is doing in every fic of hers is INSANE!!!

@naraven alon oh alon.... your music. you're the toby fox in our squad in my head and i really hope one day your music will be heard by all.

and if we're speaking about beautiful proses being written to mesmerize your senses, @chryseis-lxve aka cherry does it like no other!!!!

@teabutmakeitazure serves quality dark tea for your aventurine, childe, and chrollo fixations ☕️

@dottiro is THE canon dottore writer in my head but their pantalone fics especially are so 🫶🏻🔥🩸 (interpret those emojis as you will)

@stickyspeckledlight may use whimsy and silly words in their fics but you'll look up from their works at the end of the day and go 'what the fuck /pos'.

@crystalflygeo writes delicious smut (and will occasionally break your heart *sideeyes LoHK*) and will beckon you to visit her blog more for more delicious food (perhaps pet the local deer in the process too).

@floraldresvi may not be your 'typical writer' where she posts drabbles under the 'x reader' tag, but she drops a bouquet of happiness into her friends' inbox and i respect that so much ᰔᩚ

@silentmoth if the utterly adorable moth persona didn't bait you into looking into moth's blog then you're a monster let me just say i binged moth's masterlist. it was very worth it. 20/10 would do it again.

@pawpiefawn's calming, quaint vibe doesn't deceive - it's a cozy space for wriothesley and al haitham enjoyers, but let's be real here. i think the main charm here is miss ying's personality!!!

@silkjade has a way of writing that will leave you wondering what beautiful truly means because her aesthetics sense is top-tier and it flows into the way she writes her fics ✨

@pearlywritings has super comforting and fluffy fics that makes my day and some spicy stuff that makes me go 👀 → 🤔 → 🤤... i don't even kiss diluc but i want to root for familyau!diluc and reader, they're SO LOVABLE.

@the-travelling-witch has a plethora of magical potions you can select from, but just be careful because the poisons are as potent as the love potions ;)

@risustravelogue may be on hiatus but will still forever be one of my favorites because time means nothing to the kinship i have over fellow devs doing art and writing ;w;

the combination of @persicipen's pastel colors and the way she writes always leaves me feel like i've just watched a grand performance at a local classical concert at the end of every fic ✨

@lovegasmic if mila's theme(s) isn't pulling you in then i am silently questioning your aesthetic sense her yummy drool-worthy smut fics will. the o■■p■s fic.... the kn■■■■■g fic.... mmm.... yes.....

no big sis? no problem! @grimmweepers is THE big sister figure and THE al haitham writer for your al haitham fixations.

@unriding if evie's personality hasn't pulled you in then you're a monster her moze musings and fics will; i don't even kiss him but she makes him look so squishy (/pos).

@euthymiya with her quality writing pumps content after content of quality dishes (and side dishes of personal rambles which i find endearing) all over my dash, it's amazing.

@saetiate if their url didn't clue you in their wit then let me ー you'll find banger genshin and hsr smutfics that will blow your mind like it did mine.

i used to associate @catcze with pink but now i just associate her with being one of the aesthetic queens bc every theme is SO pretty ー delve into her wriothesley tag, you will not be disappointed.

@xeraeus with the amazing amazing art that i always somehow miss because timezone is a bitch (jun, i still think you're secretly a wizard or something bc how do you finish commissions that fast!!!).

@danijaci needs no introduction, we all know they're an absolute madlad in drawing (/pos) and those comics + blushing series + biker series will alwasy live in our head rent-free.

i personally think a good artist can relay a story or depict an object with a few lines because it shows that they fully understand the essence of things - which is what @erabu-san does splendidly.

idk if this is allowed but can we make this ask into a post where everyone tags their favorite content creators/artists/fic writers in the fandom so that they get the recognition and love they deserve!!

let's do it!! 💖💖💖

@jojaxcola @crispyanonart @eemamminy-art @itsmeglycine @nicoleknives thank you for all your wonderful sdv art <3

[peekofhistory]

Hello there! I recently discovered your blog and it's really wonderful resource. I have a question and maybe you would be able to answer. From what I know the mourning garments are white, and I've seen some in movies or dramas. But I also saw many hanfu or hanfu-like costumes in dramas that predominately use white as a color for characters. So I am a bit confused, if what is considered mourning garment is much different (in style or in cut)? or the white clothes in dramas are just something modern and for aesthetics? I hope I'm making sense here.. Anyways, cheers and thanks in advance!

Unf, such amazing questions, I love it ❤️❤️

I'm going to answer this one very carefully because I don't want to get screamed at for "gatekeeping" 😆 Right off the bat I'm going to put a disclaimer:

Whatever show you enjoy, whichever actor/actress you like, you do you and have a good time. What I'm going to write is ONLY some trends in Chinese TV/movies over the past few decades, I'm not saying any show isn't "good", please don't hate me.

You're absolutely correct that historically, Chinese mourning clothes are white, but not just white, the material is also important. The actual term for mourning is "披麻戴孝" so if we break the words down:

披 (pi) = to wear on the body (like a cape) 麻 (ma) = hemp (fabric) 戴 (dai) = to wear, to hold, to have 孝 (xiao) = filial piety, show honour and love towards one's parents

So it's wearing white hemp and some sort of white fabric on the head to express one's respect for an elder. Mourning wear is only for those who are older than you (ex. parents, grandparents, older siblings, etc.), of a higher rank, or in some cases your superior (ex. solders in a battalion wearing mourning clothes when their captain passes).

I'll use some screenshots from the 1994 version of Romance of the Three Kingdoms as an example:

Pic 1-3: The emperor has passed away in this situation so everyone is in full mourning attire. His court (pic 1), his concubine (pic 2), his kid (pic 3). If you enlarge the image, you'll see the material they're wearing is quite rough-looking (best seen in pic 3, the other images' resolution aren't great).

Pic 4-6: In this funeral, the Wu Kingdom's Commander of the naval forces has passed away, so almost everyone is in full mourning because that's a very high rank.

Pic 5: You'll see the man on the right isn't in mourning because he's head of the Wu Kingdom, so his rank is higher than the Commander, therefore he doesn't wear mourning clothes.

Pic 6: This man is a visitor and frenemy of the Commander. He's coming from the Shu (Han) Kingdom and because they're not from the same Kingdom, there's no consideration of whose rank is higher or lower. Therefore, he's only worn a strip of white cloth over his hair out of respect (he technically doesn't even need to wear that). Now, obviously, even though he's not required to wear white hemp mourning clothes, it's not a good idea to show up in flashing pink or electric orange (very disrespectful), so he's gone with a soft, pale blue

Pic 7: In this image, a distant relative of the leader of the Shu (Han) Kingdom has passed away (at this point in the show the Kingdom hadn't been established, so he's only the head of a province). This particular relative is younger than everyone present, so; a) he's not ranked above them b) he's not older than them

Therefore, none of them are in full mourning, but they've tied a white cloth to their belt to express respect.

The man in blue, on the right, with the black hat is a visitor from the Wu Kingdom, so much like in Pic 6 he's coming to pay respect to someone not from his Kingdom (doesn't matter the rank) and not his senior) so he's not in mourning clothes (he doesn't even have a white cloth at his belt when he turns around).

So yes, white is traditionally a mourning colour but not all white coloured clothing is for mourning. If you're wearing a white silk robe with embroideries and designs, that's not considered mourning clothes.

Now, having said that, traditionally people still tried to stay away from full on, completely white outfits from head to toe. It's just not a lucky colour to wear. A jacket that's white, or a skirt that's white with a coloured border or some colourful accessories, not a big deal, but if you're going full white in everything...just, no, lol.

As for the Chinese period dramas/movies of today...that's a really deep well to dive through. I'll try to summarize it here and do more detailed posts later on.

TV dramas/movies are never 100% historically accurate, I'm sure everyone knows this, and we don't expect them to be. But for the Chinese entertainment industry it's been becoming less and less accurate in the last 20-25 yrs or so. In terms of clothing/make up/hair/set design/aesthetics in general, there's debate on why these changes have occurred (some say video games, some say foreign aesthetic influence, etc.) but the final result is a LOT of the costumes you see in period dramas today are very, very not historically accurate or even fitting to what is considered "traditional" Chinese aesthetics.

There's a LOT of these "Xianxia" shows going around, stories about immortals and "Gods", "xian/ 仙". I guess the character designers today feel that white somehow makes the characters feel more "immortal", more other-worldly, an imported aesthetic mainly from the West where "white" has been associated with "purity". There's actually growing push-back from the Chinese audience inside China against the character designs in recent years because people are beginning to feel like we're losing OUR aesthetic, these designs aren't what OUR Gods and immortals traditionally looked like. Here's a comparison:

On the left we have some shows and movies from the 80s and 90s, on the right we have more recent shows.

I'll be honest...some of the clothes on the right I barely consider "Hanfu". That's not to say they're not pretty, but the Hanfu influence in them is so small at some point I start thinking, "You're essentially wearing a large-sleeved dress...". In addition to the clothes, there's the hair, the makeup, even the buildings...they're...kind of East Asian styled but not really? I can't even say they're Chinese-styled because it's so generically East Asian some of these set designs.

Traditional Chinese aesthetics favoured bold colours, and the more power and wealth you had the larger the hair styles for women, with rich, beautiful accessories. Gardens and buildings are not minimalistic at all (that leans more Japanese style), rooms are not large and empty, even in large buildings each individual room are sectioned to be fairly small. There's a running joke on Bilibili (Chinese youtube) that the Heavens have gone bankrupt these days because the costumes, the hair, and buildings look so...bare xDD

Some audiences will say these shows are fiction anyway, not set in any particular time or country but...I mean, clearly they're not writing about a Western immortal or an African God, these stories are set in the frame of Chinese characters.

In any case, basically what I'm saying is, take the Hanfu you see in dramas/movies with a grain of salt. Sometimes with a whole bag of salt. It's absolutely no problem to like them, enjoy them, cosplay them, buy them, but don't link them to anything with history unless you do some research.

And again, not saying any show is good or bad, enjoy whatever you want, this is only an opinion regarding trends in Chinese period dramas/movies. If you'd like to see what a traditional Chinese image of "Heaven" and immortals look like, here's a video from the 1986 version of Journey to the West. This is a show I would say over 80% of Chinese people have seen, most of us watched it as kids. Many, many people think it recreates the image most Chinese people have of what our "Heaven" looks like:

Src: 嗑学家与挑剔学家 【86版西游记演出了中国传统神仙该有的样子】 https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1DV4y1g73N/