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barnacles34 · 6 days ago

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Professional Hazard (And Blue Tongues)

Karina x Male Reader

9k words

18+ smut

'I expected you to have...'

'Grey hair? Glasses thick as tank armor?' You lean back. 'Let me guess—ancient and decrepit?'

'Something like that.' She toys with her iced americano, ice cubes clinking.

'Get that more than you'd think.'

'Can't imagine why.'

'Sure you can't.'

She straightens in her chair. 'Well? Are you going to ask your questions or what?'

'Did you have something specific in mind?'

'I thought you'd at least come prepared.' The sharp edge in her voice softens, adapting. 'After that email you sent.'

'I am prepared.'

'Do you know who I am?'

'I know you're Karina. I know you agreed to fund my little Italian vacation.' You keep your voice flat, unimpressed.

She laughs, short and sharp. 'They really sent someone who knows nothing.'

'Biographers aren't exactly growing on trees these days. Most of them are busy dying off.' [1]

'That's comforting.'

'About as comforting as your enthusiastic response to my email.'

'Ah.' She smirks. 'My monument to hubris?'

'Your words, not mine.'

'Christ, you're not exactly sunshine and roses, are you?'

'If only you knew.'

'Oh, I think I do.' She leans forward. 'People like me—we're your bread and butter. Desperate enough to take the abuse just to get that book written.'

'Quick study.'

'Experience, darling.' She draws out the last word like stretched taffy.

'If immortality's what you're after, we're off to a rocky start.'

'Not even grateful for the Italian holiday?'

You meet her eyes. 'Bribery's nothing new. Don't expect it to polish your image.'

'Tough nut to crack, aren't you?'

'I have what I need.'

'Meaning?'

'Let me put this delicately: my last subject bought me a year at New York's finest.' [2]

'Fantastic.' She rattles her ice cubes harder.

'You know what I think?' She sets down her drink with deliberate care.

'Enlighten me.'

'I think you enjoy this. The whole "unimpressed biographer" act.'

You pull out your notebook, unhurried. 'That'd make a great chapter one. "Local girl psychoanalyzes writer, lives to regret it."'

'There it is again.' Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. 'Tell me, do your subjects usually last long enough for chapter two?'

'The interesting ones do.'

'And the boring ones?'

You flip open to a blank page. 'They get a lovely rejection letter.'

'Which I didn't.'

'Yet.'

She leans back, studying you. The late afternoon sun catches the edge of her glass, throwing prismatic shapes across the table. 'You really don't care that I could walk away right now.'

'The door's right there.' You click your pen. 'But we both know you won't.'

'Because?'

'Because you didn't spend three months negotiating with my publisher just to storm off over hurt feelings.'

'Maybe I just like wasting time.'

'Maybe.' You meet her gaze. 'But people who like wasting time don't usually have a dozen designer brand sponsorships.'

Something shifts in her expression—surprise, maybe, or respect. 'So you did do your homework.'

'I always do.' You position your pen over the blank page. 'Now, shall we begin with the real questions?'

'Shoot.' She shifts in her chair, the late afternoon sun warming the cafe corner we've claimed.

'Tell me about your sister.'

Her eyebrows lift slightly. 'Not starting with the obvious questions?'

'Would you prefer those?'

'No.' She smiles, genuine this time. 'She's a nurse. Like our mom.'

'Close?'

'Very. She's the only person who still calls me Jimin.' She stirs her americano. 'Probably the only person who can get away with it, too.'

'Why's that?'

'Because she knew me when I was just the quiet kid who'd rather read in corners than talk to anyone. Before all of...' She waves her hand vaguely. 'This.'

'Still prefer corners?'

'Sometimes.' She considers the question. 'There's this tiny bookstore in Seongnam. When I go home, I still visit. They have this perfect spot by the window.'

'What do you read?'

'Whatever catches my eye. Last week it was about sharks.'

You raise an eyebrow. 'Sharks?'

'Don't look so surprised.' She laughs. 'They're fascinating. Everyone thinks they know them, but they don't, not really.'

'Speaking from experience?'

She takes a long sip of her drink instead of answering.

'You don't have to do that, you know.' You set your pen down.

'Do what?'

'Deflect. Turn everything into a metaphor.'

She meets your eyes for a long moment. 'Force of habit.'

'Bad one.'

'Says the person who's been matching my deflections word for word.' A half-smile plays at her lips. 'We're quite the pair, aren't we?'

'Difference is, I'm paid to be difficult.'

'And I was raised to be.' The words slip out before she can catch them. Her fingers tighten around her glass.

You wait.

'You're good at this,' she says quietly.

'At what?'

'Making silence comfortable.' She looks out the window. 'Most people try to fill it.'

'Most people aren't trying to understand.'

She turns back to you, something shifting in her expression. 'Is that what you're trying to do? Understand?'

'Would that be so terrible?'

'No,' she says.

'Progress.' You pick up your pen again. 'Though I've just realized something deeply troubling.'

'What's that?'

'Your americano's been empty for ten minutes, and you're still pretending to drink it.'

She glances at her glass, caught. 'Method acting.'

'Ah yes, the classic "I'm too invested in this conversation to pause for a refill" performance.' You wave to catch the barista's eye. 'Oscar-worthy.'

'Says the person who hasn't touched their...' She leans forward to peek at your cup. 'What even is that?'

'Green tea.'

'Pretentious.'

'Says the person who ordered an iced americano in winter.'

'It's barely spring.'

'Case in point.'

The barista arrives with fresh drinks. Karina raises an eyebrow at your cup. 'Still green tea?'

'I'm consistent.'

'Boring.'

'Strategic.' You take a deliberate sip. 'Can't blame caffeine jitters for whatever honesty slips out.'

'Sneaky.'

'Professional.'

'Same thing.' She stirs her new drink, ice cubes clinking. 'So what's next in your strategic interrogation?'

'Thought we agreed to drop the deflection thing.'

'Old habits. Ten seconds at a time.'

'That's oddly specific.'

'It's how I learned to swim.' At your questioning look, she continues, 'Ten seconds of courage. Then you can panic all you want.'

'Does that work?'

'Got me here, didn't it?' She gestures between you two. 'Letting a stranger with a notebook and suspiciously consistent beverage choices pick apart my life.'

'You could always run.'

'To where? Croatia?' She laughs at your surprised expression. 'What? I have dreams.'

'Of Croatia specifically?'

'Of anywhere that doesn't know my name.'

'That's rather poetic for someone who just called me pretentious.'

'I contain multitudes.' She mock-bows in her seat.

'Walt Whitman now?'

'See? You're not the only one who can be insufferably well-read.'

You make a show of writing something down.

You flip to a fresh page. 'Tell me about Croatia.'

'Nothing to tell. Just a place.'

'There are plenty of places that don't know your name. Why that one?'

She traces the rim of her glass again, a habit you've started to recognize as her thinking gesture. 'Have you ever seen those old coastal towns? The ones with narrow streets and buildings that look like they're having conversations with each other?'

'Been to a few.'

'I want to get lost in one.' She looks up. 'Properly lost. No GPS, no itinerary. Just... walking until my feet decide to stop.'

'Most people want to be found.'

'Most people haven't spent years being findable.' The sharpness in her voice surprises both of you. She softens it with a smile. 'Sorry. That sounded more dramatic than intended.'

'Don't apologize. It's the first time you've stopped performing since we sat down.'

'I haven't been—' She stops. Laughs. 'Okay. Point taken.'

'Progress. Again.'

'You're keeping score?'

'Always.' You tap your notebook. 'It's kind of the whole point.'

'And how am I doing?'

'In being honest or deflecting?'

'Both.'

'You're averaging about fifty-fifty.'

'Generous scoring.'

'Strategic encouragement.'

'You're good at that.' She stretches slightly. 'Making people think they're in control of the conversation.'

'Are you not?'

'Please. We both know you've been steering this ship since you sat down.' She pauses. 'Though I will say, you're the first interviewer who hasn't asked about my routine yet.'

'Your routine?'

'You know. "What time do you wake up? What's your skincare regimen? How many hours do you practice?" That whole song and dance.'

'Would you like me to ask?'

'God no.' She grins. 'But I'm curious why you haven't.'

'Because routines are what people do. I'm more interested in who they are.'

'And who am I?'

'Still figuring that out. But I know you crack your knuckles when you're nervous.'

She stops mid-crack, caught. 'Observant.'

'Professional hazard.' You lean forward. 'Tell me something real. Not about routines or schedules or practices.'

'Like what?'

'Like what you think about at three AM when you can't sleep.'

She's quiet for a long moment. 'Sometimes I forget what my natural speaking voice sounds like.'

'What do you mean?'

'You spend so many years modulating everything—your voice, your laugh, your reactions—until one day...' She shrugs. 'One day you catch yourself using your "public" voice to order coffee at 3 AM in an empty convenience store, and you realize you can't remember what you used to sound like.'

'And that bothers you.'

'Wouldn't it bother you? Losing something that fundamental without even noticing it was gone?'

'Is that why we're here? Trying to find it again?'

'Maybe.' She smiles, but it's different now. Unpolished. 'Or maybe I'm just tired of having "public" and "private" versions of everything.'

'Including your voice.'

'Including my entire existence.'

'Right.' You snap your notebook shut. 'We're getting gelato.'

—

[1] The suspicious rate at which biographers are "dying off" has become something of an industry joke. Three prominent biographers mysteriously retired after attempting to write about a certain K-pop company's CEO. Totally not suspicious.

[2] The Plaza Hotel, to be specific. Said subject was a tech billionaire whose autobiography mysteriously never made it to print. The hotel suite, however, maintains legendary status among New York's housekeeping staff for its impressive collection of empty green tea bottles and rejection letters.

—

She blinks. 'What?'

'We're walking.' You stand, gathering your things. 'Unless you have somewhere to be?'

'Are you actually asking, or is this another strategic move?'

'Both. Neither. Whatever. Does it matter if there's gelato involved?'

A genuine laugh escapes her. 'Fair point.'

The early evening air hits your faces as you step outside. She pulls on a cap—more habit than disguise.

'Left or right?' you ask.

'You're the one who lives here.'

'Technically, I've been here three days.'

'And you already know where to get gelato?'

'First thing I do in any city. Professional secret.'

'Ah yes, the biographer's handbook. Chapter One: locate ice cream immediately.'

'Chapter Two: never reveal your sources.' You turn left. 'Unless they're wearing a questionably large cap and hiding from their own voice.'

'Low blow.' But she's grinning. 'Also, my cap is perfectly sized.'

'For what? Smuggling library books?'

'That's... oddly specific.'

'Says the person who just quoted Walt Whitman in a cafe.'

You find the gelato place tucked between a bookstore and a vintage shop. The owner, an elderly Italian woman, lights up at your approach.

'Due?' she asks.

'Sì,' you reply, then turn to Karina. 'What's your poison?'

She studies the flavors intently. 'What's the most unusual one?'

'Professional or personal answer?'

'There's a difference?'

'Professional would be something elegant. Personal...' You point to a vivid blue flavor. 'That one tastes like your childhood imaginary friend made a pact with a Smurf.'

She doesn't hesitate. 'Two scoops of that, please.'

'Really?'

'What?' She raises an eyebrow. 'Scared of a little blue tongue?'

'More scared of what my editor will say when the interview notes are stained cerulean.'

Ten minutes later, you're both leaning against a stone wall, gelato dripping in the warm evening air. Her tongue is, indeed, impressively blue.

'Yah! Why are you taking a picture?”

'Your tongue. I need photographic evidence for my editor.'

She complains, ‘self-respecting people would’ve walked a long time ago.’

‘And let me guess-’

‘Correct. Take a picture if you want.’

'Pulitzer worthy.' You take another bite of your considerably more dignified pistachio. 'So tell me about the sharks.'

'You're still on that?'

'You brought up marine biology in a cafe and then mysteriously changed the subject. I'm invested now.'

'There's nothing mysterious about it.' She licks a drop of blue from her knuckle. 'I just think they're neat.'

'That's the worst deflection yet.'

'Fine.' She pushes off the wall, starting to walk. 'When I was younger, I used to think they were lonely.'

You fall into step beside her. 'Sharks?'

'Mm. Always swimming, never stopping. Everyone afraid of them.' She shrugs. 'Stupid kid logic.'

'And now?'

'Now I think they're just... misunderstood.' She grins. 'That was terrible, wasn't it? Like a bad movie line.'

'Terrible. But honest.'

'You and your honesty fetish.'

'Says the person who just admitted to emotionally relating to sharks.'

She snorts, nearly dropping her cone. 'When you put it that way—'

'Oh, I'm definitely putting it that way. It's going in the book.'

'Absolutely not.'

'Chapter title: "The Shark Whisperer”. I can see it already'

She tries to hip-check you, but you dodge, protecting your gelato. 'I'm revoking your creative license.'

'Too late. The mental image of baby Jimin crying over shark documentaries is seared into my brain.'

'I did not cry over—' She stops. 'Okay, maybe once. But it was a very sad documentary.' [1]

The sun is setting now, painting the cobblestones gold. You pass a street musician playing something soft and acoustic.

'Your sister know about the sharks?'

'Of course. She bought me the books.' Her smile turns fond. 'Still does, actually. Sends them to me randomly.'

'Recent ones?'

'Last week.' She finishes her cone. 'She has... interesting timing.'

'Interesting timing?'

'Mm.' She wipes her hands on a napkin. 'Right after I told her about the interview. She sent me one about great whites. Said something about facing fears.'

'Subtle.'

'About as subtle as your interview techniques.' She eyes your notebook, still tucked away. 'Not writing anymore?'

'Memory's better when I'm walking.' You tap your temple. 'Also, harder to write about blue tongues while walking.'

'Still blue?'

'Devastatingly so.'

She sticks her tongue out at a passing window, checking her reflection. 'Oh god, it's worse than I thought.'

'Crisis?'

'Please. I once had to perform with my hair half-green because of a dye mishap. This?' She gestures to her mouth. 'This is nothing.'

'Half-green?'

'Not going in the book.'

'Already mentally drafting the chapter.'

She groans. 'I'm starting to regret this whole walking thing.'

'Because of the blackmail material or the exercise?'

'Both. Neither.' She pauses by a small fountain. 'It's just... nice.'

'Nice?'

'Yeah.' She sits on the fountain's edge. 'No schedule. No plan. Just... walking and talking and eating questionably colored gelato with a stranger who probably thinks I'm having a quarter-life crisis.'

'Are you?'

'Having a crisis or eating gelato?'

'Now who's deflecting?'

And she pauses again, caught.

She dips her fingers in the fountain water, watching the ripples. 'Maybe I just wanted one normal evening. One conversation that wasn't prepackaged and pre-approved.'

'Mission accomplished, I'd say. Your tongue is literally blue.'

That startles a laugh out of her. 'You're never letting that go, are you?'

'It's going to be a running metaphor throughout the book. Deep, meaningful parallels between blue gelato and the human condition.'

'You're terrible at your job.'

'I'm excellent at my job. I got you to walk around Rome with blue teeth.'

'Is that the measure of success?'

'For this chapter? Absolutely.'

The street lamps are starting to flicker on, and the air has that peculiar Roman evening warmth that begs for a drink.

'Know any good bars?' she asks, as if reading your mind.

'Thought you'd never ask[2]. Fair warning though—my Italian's terrible.'

'Better or worse than your interview skills?'

'Much worse. But I can order Aperol Spritz in seventeen different ways.'

'Useful life skill.'

'More useful than relating to sharks.'

She shoves your shoulder lightly. 'One more shark joke and I'm leaving.'

'No, you're not.'

'No, I'm not.' She grins. 'Lead the way, worst Italian speaker.'

You find a tiny place tucked away from the main streets. The kind tourists don't know about, with mismatched chairs and a bartender who looks old enough to have served Caesar himself.

'Due aperol spritz, per favore.' You ask.

The bartender raises an eyebrow. 'Americano? Il tuo italiano è buono!' (your Italian was… apparently… good.)

'Peggio,' you say. 'Giornalista'

(‘Worse. Journalist.’)

He laughs, already reaching for glasses. Karina slides onto a barstool, looking around with genuine curiosity.

‘He seems pretty impressed by your Italian.’

‘Oh trust me—he wasn’t. He just wanted to be nice. That’s all. The inflections are quite easy to catch.’

‘Alright, whatever you say. Giornalista—.'

You grin at her cute prod.

'How'd you find this place?' She asks; needless to say, she likes it here.

'Got lost my first night here––five years ago. It was either come in or keep pretending I knew where my hotel was.'

'And?'

'Woke up knowing exactly where my hotel was. And how to say "I'm sorry" in Italian.'

She laughs. 'That bad?'

'Let's just say there's a reason I stick to green tea now.'

The drinks arrive, vivid orange against the dark wood of the bar.

'To blue tongues,' you raise your glass.

'And bad Italian,' she clinks hers against it.

—

[1] The documentary in question was "Blue Planet II." Her sister still has the receipt for three boxes of tissues and a plush shark from the aquarium gift shop. The plush shark now sits in her studio, wearing a tiny version of her debut outfit. Her company has tried to mass-produce it twice. She's vetoed it both times.

[2] You were never this humble about your Italian until you talked to an Italian nonna. "Qui giace la dignità di un giornalista" (Here lies a journalist's dignity).

—

'Speaking of bad decisions—'

'We weren't.'

'We are now. Tell me about the green hair incident.'

'Absolutely not.' She takes another sip of her spritz. 'Some secrets I'm taking to my grave.'

'Come on. Half-green hair? There's got to be a story there.'

'There is. A great one. You're still not hearing it.'

'I'll trade you.'

'Oh?' She turns on her stool to face you fully. 'What could you possibly have that's worth my green hair story?'

'Remember when I said I learned to say sorry in Italian?'

'The plot thickens.'

'Let's just say it involved a fountain, three angry nuns, and a very patient carabinieri.'

She nearly chokes on her drink. 'You're making that up.'

'Want to bet your green hair story on it?'

'You know what?' She signals the bartender for another round. 'Fine. But if you're lying, you're buying drinks for the rest of the night.'

'Deal.'

'And no taking notes.'

'Now that's just cruel.'

'Professional hazard,' she mimics your earlier tone, then grins. 'Okay, storyteller. Dazzle me.'

The bartender sets down fresh drinks, and you lean in conspiratorially. 'So picture this: my first night in Rome, about five years ago...'

'Wait.' She holds up a hand. 'We need to establish stakes. If this story doesn't involve all three elements—fountain, nuns, and police—you're not only buying drinks, you're telling me where you actually learned to say sorry in Italian.'

'Counter-offer. If my story checks out, I get the green hair story plus whatever happened at that music show in Busan.'

Her eyes narrow. 'What music show in Busan?'

'The one you just reacted to.'

'That's... that's actually impressive.'

'Five years of professional nosiness at work. Deal?'

She clinks her glass against yours. 'Deal. Now stop stalling.'

'Right. So. Five years ago. I'd just finished an interview with this ancient countess at the bar. I mean, it’s the bar. Who else gets to interview a countess at a bar? That’s like crazy Bourdain-level shit right there.’

She nods along. 'Of course you did.'

'Anyway, she invited me to this wine cellar...'

'Oh no.'

'Oh yes. And mind you, I was already quite drunk. And she was very, very insistent about hospitality...'

Twenty minutes and much laughter later, you finish: '...and that's why you should never trust Google Translate to help you apologize to Italian law enforcement.'

She's wiping tears from her eyes. 'The part with the cat—'

'Hand to god. Still have the scars.'

'Okay.' She catches her breath. 'Okay, you win. That was worth it.'

'Time to pay up. Green hair. Spill.'

'Can I have one more drink first?'

'For courage?'

'So I can blame it on the drink.' She waves at the bartender. 'I still can't believe you showed those nuns your interview notes to prove you weren't a street performer.'

'Desperate times.'

'Speaking of desperate...' She takes a fortifying sip of her fresh spritz. 'Ever tried to fix green hair with grape juice?'

'No.'

'Don't.'

'There has to be more to this story than grape juice.'

'Oh, there's so much more.' She settles into her seat. 'Picture this: it's two hours before a live broadcast. I'm sitting in the makeup chair, feeling pretty good about life. You know, like that particular moment where your face just… shines. Then my stylist walks in, takes one look at my hair, and just... screams.'

'Screams?'

'Full horror movie scream. Turns out the hair dye we used was... let's say "not exactly approved by management."'

'Let me guess. DIY job?'

'Worse. My sister's friend's cousin who "totally went to beauty school."'

'Oh no.' You snort, taking a hefty drink of the remaining spritz.

'Oh yes. So there I am, one side of my head this bizarre shade of swamp-thing green, and everyone's running around like it's the end of the world.'

'Which is when someone suggested grape juice?'

'Actually, that was my idea.' She grimaces. 'I'd read somewhere that grape juice could neutralize green tones. What they failed to mention was that this works for swimming pools, not hair.' [1]

'So what happened?'

'Picture a very expensive wig, three cans of dry shampoo, and me trying to explain to the camera director why I couldn't turn my head to the left.'

'Did it work?'

'Define "work."' She takes another sip. 'If by "work" you mean "did I make it through the broadcast without anyone seeing the grape-juice-tinged disaster," then yes. If by "work" you mean "did I maintain any dignity," then absolutely not.'

'The fans never found out?'

'Oh, they did. Someone leaked a backstage photo three months later.' She grins. 'By then I'd managed to fix it. Mostly.'

'Mostly?'

'My sister still has a strand of green hair she saved. Threatens to post it whenever I don't answer her calls.'

'Effective.'

'Terrifying.' She raises her glass. 'Your turn again. What's the worst interview you've ever done?'

'Besides this one?'

She kicks your chair. 'I'm delightful and you know it.'

'You're something, all right.'

Three drinks in, and the bar's emptied enough that her laugh echoes a little too loudly. She covers her mouth, but it's too late – the old bartender shoots them an amused look.

'Sorry,' she stage-whispers.

'For what? The laugh or the fact that it just shattered three ancient Roman wine glasses?'

'Shut up.' She kicks your chair again. 'I don't always laugh like that.'

'Let me guess – there's a public laugh and a private laugh?'

'There's a whole taxonomy.' She sits up straighter, counting on her fingers. 'Interview laugh, variety show laugh, fan meeting laugh, oh-that's-not-actually-funny-but-you're-my-sunbae laugh—'

'Please tell me you're joking.'

'I wish.' She slumps forward, head on her arms. 'I once had to attend a laughing seminar.'

'A what now?'

'A laughing seminar. Professional instruction on the art of the public giggle.' Her voice is muffled against her sleeve. 'There was a PowerPoint and everything.'

'You're making this up.'

She lifts her head. 'I spent three hours learning about laugh-adjacent breathing techniques while a woman named Mrs. Kim hit a triangle every time someone laughed "inappropriately."'

You stare at her. She stares back.

'That's the most horrifying thing I've ever heard,' you say finally.

'I know.' She dissolves into another too-loud laugh, this one definitely not seminar-approved. 'God, I can still hear that triangle.'

'Is that why you're here?'

'Getting drunk with a biographer in Rome? No, that's just poor life choices.'

'Speaking honest truths to a stranger?'

'Oh.' She straightens up, but there's still something loose in her smile. 'Maybe. Or maybe I just really needed to tell someone about Mrs. Kim and her triangle of terror.'

'Triangle of terror.' You shake your head. 'That's going in the book.'

'Along with the blue tongue and green hair? You're really painting a picture here.'

'It's called character development.'

'It's called character assassination.' She signals for water. 'What else are you putting in there?'

'Wouldn't you like to know.'

'Actually, yes. That's literally why I'm asking.'

'Fine.' You pretend to flip through your mental notes. 'Chapter One: Sharks and Empathy—'

'Oh my god.'

'Chapter Two: The Grape Juice Incident—'

'I'm starting to regret everything.'

'Chapter Three: Laugh Taxonomies by Aespa’s Karina—'

'I hate you.'

'Chapter Four: Why Romans Don't Trust Her With Fountains Anymore—'

'That was you! That was literally your story!'

'Was it? Everything's getting a bit fuzzy.' You tap your temple. 'Must be all that professional memory I was bragging about earlier.'

She throws an olive at you. The bartender clears his throat.

'Sorry,' you both say in unison, then look at each other and start laughing again.

'You know what's really funny?' she says, once you've both contained yourselves.

'Mrs. Kim's triangle?'

'Besides that.' She accepts the water from the bartender. 'This is probably the worst interview you've ever done.'

'Oh, definitely.'

'And yet...'

'And yet?'

'It's the most honest one I've given.' She pauses. 'God, that sounded way less cheesy in my head. Must be the spritz talking.'

'Blame it on the altitude.'

'We're at sea level.'

'Blame it on the sea level.'

'You're ridiculous.' She's grinning though. 'Is this how all your interviews go?'

'Usually there's less gelato. More gravitas.'

'Gravitas is overrated.'

'Says the woman who attended a laughing seminar.'

'Hey, I'll have you know my triangle-approved giggle is very dignified.'

'Prove it.'

She sits up straighter, arranges her features into something serene, and lets out the most artificial laugh you've ever heard. It's so pristine it's almost disturbing.

'That was horrifying.'

'That was three hours of professional training.'

'I'm concerned about your profession.'

'Join the club.' She relaxes back into her natural posture. 'We have meetings every Tuesday. Bring your own triangle.'

The bartender slides over the check with a knowing look. Last call came and went without either of you noticing.

'Well,' you say, reaching for your wallet. 'I suppose this is—'

'Wait.' She puts her hand on your arm. 'I have a confession.'

'Another one? The green hair wasn't enough?'

'I read your book.'

'Which one?'

'The one about the ballet dancer who quit to become a motorcycle mechanic.'

'Ah.' You sit back. 'And?'

'And I maybe, possibly, completely changed my mind about this whole interview when I read it.'

'Because?'

'Because...' She fidgets with her empty glass. 'You made her sound so... human.'

'As opposed to?'

'A story. A headline.' She traces a pattern on the bar top. 'Most people would've written about the scandal, the career she "threw away." But you wrote about how she names each motorcycle she fixes. How she still dances in her garage at midnight.'

'Ah. That.'

'That.' She looks up. 'Is that why you haven't asked me about any of it?'

'Any of what?'

'Don't play dumb. The headlines. The speculation. The—'

'The triangle-approved responses you've probably rehearsed?'

She laughs, caught. 'Something like that.'

'Here's the thing about headlines.' You start gathering your things. 'They're usually more interesting than the truth.'

'And what's the truth?'

'That sometimes people just want to eat blue gelato and tell embarrassing stories in a bar and talk a biographer’s ears off.'

She kicks your chair again, barely noticeable. 'Even if those stories end up in a book?'

'Especially then.' You stand, offering her jacket. 'Though I might need you to sign a waiver about the grape juice incident.'

'I knew it! You are using it!'

'Chapter title: "The Perils of Amateur Chemistry: A Cautionary Tale."'

She shrugs on her jacket, shaking her head. 'You're impossible. That AI flair was so intentional'

'Says the woman who legitimately attended a laughing seminar.'

'I'm never living that down, am I?'

'Not as long as I have a functioning memory and a publishing contract.'

The Roman night is warm as you both step out of the bar. She stumbles slightly on the cobblestones.

You offer a hand which she quickly grabs.

'Don't you dare put that in the book,' she warns.

'Put what? The graceful interpretation of contemporary dance you just performed?'

'These streets are rigged.' She steadies herself. 'Also, your hotel's this way.'

'How do you know where my hotel is?' You’re not exactly one to remember locations, probably the reason you were able to gain such a repository of ridiculous stories.

'Because it's my hotel.' She grins at your expression. 'What? You think you're the only one who does research?'

'I'm concerned about your stalking tendencies.'

'Says the person who somehow knew about the Busan incident.'

'Professional hazard.'

'You really need new catchphrases.'

The walk is quiet, comfortable. Rome at night feels like a different city—all golden lights and shadow play. A cat watches you pass from its perch on a window sill.

'Don't even think about it,' she says.

'About what?'

'Making some poetic comparison between me and that cat.'

'Please. I'm a much better writer than that.'

'Sure you are, shark whisperer.'

You reach the hotel entrance. She pauses.

'Well,' she says. 'This has been...'

'Professionally catastrophic?'

'I was going to say enlightening.'

'That too.'

The hotel lobby is all marble and soft lighting. Your footsteps echo slightly.

'I have a balcony,' she says suddenly. 'And a really pretentious coffee machine I can't figure out.'

'Is this a cry for help with appliances?'

'This is...' She fidgets with her room key. 'This is me not wanting the interview to end yet.'

'The interview ended somewhere between blue gelato and the triangle story.'

'Then what's this?'

‘Believe or not, some people just like having fun on their Italian vacation.’

‘Haha. Very funny.’

'This is...' You pretend to consider. 'Two people who might be friends if one of them wasn't writing a book about the other.'

'Complicated.'

'Professional hazard.'

'There's that phrase again.' She presses the elevator button. 'Come on. I'll teach you how to laugh properly.'

'With or without the triangle?'

She steps into the elevator. 'Depends on how good you are at making coffee.'

'Now who's the impossible one?'

The doors start to close. She holds them.

'Coming?'

You join her in the elevator. 'For the record, I'm excellent at coffee.'

'For the record,' she mimics your tone, 'that's going in the book.'

Her room is on the top floor, with a view that makes you understand why people write poetry about Rome.

'So,' she says, fighting with the coffee machine. 'This button makes it angry, and this one makes it hiss.'

'Move over, amateur.' You reach around her to press a combination of buttons. The machine purrs to life.

'Show off.' But she's smiling as she heads for the balcony. 'Bring your coffee wizardry out here when it's ready.'

The balcony is small, just enough room for two chairs and all of Rome spread out below. She's curled up in one chair, shoes off, looking more real than she has all day.

'Your professional opinion,' she says as you hand her a cup. 'Is this going to be a good book?'

'Depends.'

'On?'

'On whether you let me keep the shark metaphors.'

She laughs into her coffee. 'You're never letting that go.'

'Never.' You take the other chair. 'Though I might be willing to negotiate.'

'Terms?'

'Tell me something nobody knows. Something that won't make the book.'

She's quiet for a moment, looking out at the city lights. 'I sing in the shower.'

'Everybody knows that.'

'No, I mean...' She turns to face you. 'I sing the old songs. The ones I used to practice when I was just some kid in Bundang with a dream too big for my voice.'

'And?'

'And sometimes I still feel like her. That kid. Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'

'Especially at night, in foreign hotels, when the city feels like it belongs to someone else.'

'Wow.' You let out a low whistle. 'That was incredibly profound.'

She groans, covering her face. 'I know. I'm sorry. That was straight out of a drama script.'

'I was thinking more indie movie. You know, the kind where people have deep conversations on balconies in Rome at—' you check your watch, '—one in the morning.'

'Oh god, we're living a cliché.'

'Complete with coffee and two chairs overlooking Rome.'

'Quick,' she straightens up, 'say something unprofound. Save us from ourselves.'

'My tongue is still kind of blue.'

She peeks at you over her coffee cup. 'Mine too.'

'Better?'

'Much better.' She slouches back in her chair. 'Though now I'm thinking about how this would look in your book. "Two idiots with blue tongues have existential crisis on expensive balcony."'

'Don't forget the part where one of them somehow charmed a coffee machine.'

'And the other one used to sing in her shower.'

'Still,' you correct. 'Present tense.'

'Still,' she admits. 'But if you put that in your book, I'll have to tell everyone about your fountain incident.'

'Mutually assured destruction. I like it.'

She yawns, then looks embarrassed. 'Sorry. It's not the company, it's—'

'The five Aperol Spritzes?'

'That. And the emotional toll of remembering Mrs. Kim's triangle.'

'Tragic backstory,' you nod solemnly. 'Very character-building.'

'Speaking of character-building...' She sets down her empty cup, turns to face you fully. 'This is usually the part in your books where something significant happens.'

'Is it?'

'Mm. Chapter twelve. Always a turning point.'

'You really did read my books.'

'I told you that already.' She's closer now, somehow. 'What I didn't mention was that I figured out your pattern.'

'My pattern?'

'The way you write moments like this.' Her voice is soft. 'When everything gets quiet, and the city's just background noise, and someone's about to do something...'

'Inadvisable?'

'I was going to say brave.'

'Brave is just inadvisable with better PR.'

She laughs, barely a whisper. 'You're deflecting again.'

'Professional—'

'If you say "hazard" right now,' she cuts in, 'I'm going to throw you off this balcony.'

'That would be...'

'Inadvisable?'

'I was going to say "terrible for my book sales."'

She's definitely closer now. 'Your book sales are about to be the least of your problems.'

'Because you're going to kiss me or throw me off the balcony?'

'I haven't decided yet.'

'Well,' you murmur, 'for what it's worth, one of those options would make a much better chapter twelve.'

She closes the distance between you, smiling against your lips. 'Professional hazard.'

You and Karina shared an instant spark that neither of you had experienced. Ever. The moment that first tease left your mouth, it was over.

—

[1] The sentiment of grape juice being able to eliminate green tones turned out to be completely unfounded. Despite this, wine sommeliers around the world have complained about Koreans with their distinct accent asking about grape juice’s ability to change colors.

—

The kiss tastes like coffee and Aperol and something sweet—probably the remnants of that ridiculous blue gelato. It's soft and quiet and perfect, the kind of moment that would sound made up in a book.

She pulls back slightly. 'Your editor's going to hate this.'

'Definitely.' You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 'Completely unprofessional.'

'Thoroughly inadvisable.'

'Absolutely perfect for chapter twelve.'

She kisses you again, and Rome keeps existing below, indifferent to your small moment of magic. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell chimes twice.

'You know,' she whispers, 'this is usually where you'd write something profound about the city of love.'

'That's Paris.'

'Now who's deflecting?'

'Still you. But I'm starting not to mind.'

She laughs, soft and real—definitely not triangle-approved—and rests her forehead against yours, your breaths intermixing, plenty of intimate eye contact. 'Is this going in the book?'

'What do you think?'

'I think...' Her fingers find yours. 'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'

'I think some stories we get to keep for ourselves.'

'Even after I charmed your coffee machine? That's cold.'

She makes a face. 'You're really bringing up coffee machine prowess right after—'

'Right after you thoroughly compromised my journalistic integrity? Yes.'

'Your journalistic integrity was compromised the moment you let me eat blue gelato.'

'My journalistic integrity was compromised the moment I saw you.' You run your thumb across her knuckles.

Her eye contact wavers and her voice falters, ‘Gosh, you’re such a player.’

‘Flirting has never come so easily before.’ You whisper against her mouth.

'Oh really?'

'Obviously.'

'Which was?'

'Stare at that blue tongue some more.’'

She shoves you lightly. 'You're terrible.'

'And yet.'

'And yet.' She settles on your lap, the forehead to forehead more natural now. 'So what happens now?'

'Well, traditionally, this is where I'd write something about dawn breaking over the eternal city—'

'Please don't.'

'—with golden light catching on ancient stones—'

'I'm begging you to stop.'

'—as two souls find each other under the Roman sky—'

She claps a hand over your mouth. 'I will literally pay you to not finish that sentence.'

You kiss her palm before she pulls it away. 'Isn't that technically bribery?'

'Add it to the list. Right after "compromised journalistic integrity" and "suspicious coffee machine expertise."'

'Speaking of compromising situations...' You glance at your watch. 'It's almost three AM.'

'Worried about your reputation?'

'Worried about your triangle-approved schedule.'

'Bold of you to assume I ever sleep.' She stands, stretching. 'Want to order terrible room service and you can tell me about all the other journalists you've scandalized?'

'That's a very short list. Very enticing regardless.’

'Good.' She holds out her hand.

The night air has turned cooler, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from somewhere below. Her fingers trace the collar of your shirt, hesitant but deliberate.

'What happened to room service?' you murmur.

'It can wait.' Her eyes meet yours, playful but wanting. 'I'm conducting my own interview first.'

This kiss is different from the first. Slower, more certain. The city hums below, a distant lullaby of late-night cars and echoing footsteps. When she sighs into the kiss, it's the softest sound you've ever heard. When she falters against your forceful touches, it’s the softest you’ve ever felt a woman.

She pulls back just enough to breathe, her forehead resting against yours. Her heartbeat is quick under your palm.

'Better than chapter twelve?' she whispers.

You catch her lips again in answer, feeling her smile. The wind stirs her hair, sending strands brushing against your cheek. Everything smells like jasmine and coffee and her perfume—something subtle and expensive that you'll probably spend the rest of your life over-romanticizing.

Because that’s what Karina deserves.

Rome stretches out endless and ancient around you, but all you can focus on is how perfectly she fits against you, how real she feels away from cameras and crowds.

Your lips find hers in the dark, soft and certain now. Her fingers trail up your neck, threading through your hair, pulling you closer. There's an art to the way she kisses—deliberate yet desperate, like she's trying to memorize the moment. Your hands settle at her waist, and she makes a small sound that you know you'll remember forever.

Her lips part against yours, deepening the kiss until you're both breathless. The balcony railing presses into your back—when did that happen?—and her body is warm against yours, fitting perfectly in all the spaces between.

Her teeth graze your bottom lip, teasing. You respond by trailing kisses along her jaw, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. When you find that sensitive spot just below her ear, her sharp intake of breath makes you smile against her skin.

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. Her lips are slightly swollen, her careful composure beautifully undone––hair spread everywhere, but just so that she looks ethereal rather than messy. You brush your thumb across her lower lip, and she catches it with her teeth, playful even now.

‘Still planning to put this in chapter twelve?’ she whispers, breathless.

Your answer gets lost somewhere between her lips and… her lips.

Her laugh vibrates against your lips when you finally break apart. ‘We should probably—’

‘Go inside?’ Your lips find the curve of her neck again.

‘I was going to say breathe.’ But her head tilts back, giving you better access. Her pulse flutters under your kiss like a trapped bird. ‘Though inside works too.’

You pull back just enough to look at her. Hair mussed, eyes bright, that perfect composure completely undone. She's never looked more beautiful than she does right now, with the city lights catching in her eyes and her professional smile nowhere to be found.

‘What?’ she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

‘Just thinking.’

‘About?’

‘How this definitely isn't going in the book.’

Her smile turns mischievous. ‘No?’ Her fingers trace patterns on your chest. ‘Not even a little mention of how you completely forgot about journalistic integrity the moment I—’

‘Then chapter 12 would entirely consist of me betraying my profession in order to catch your lips with my teeth.’

‘Wow. You’re bad. Like, real bad.’

‘You have no idea.’

You cut her off with another kiss, swallowing her laugh. Her hands slide up your chest, around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. The world narrows to just this: her lips on yours, her body pressed against you, the soft sounds she makes when you run your fingers down her spine.

‘Inside,’ she murmurs against your mouth. ‘Before we really give Rome something to talk about.’

You let her lead you through the balcony doors, both of you stumbling slightly, unwilling to break contact. She tastes like promises now, like stories yet to be written. Her hands are everywhere��your hair, your chest, your face – like she's trying to read you by touch alone.

‘Wait,’ you manage, as her lips find that spot below your ear that makes thinking difficult. ‘What about—’

‘If you mention room service right now,’ she warns, ‘I'm going back to my original plan of throwing you off the balcony.’

‘I was going to say 'what about your triangle-approved image?'’

She pulls back, eyes dancing. ‘Oh, that?’ Her lips brush yours, teasing. ‘I think we thoroughly compromised that at the first meeting.’

"Professional hazard?"

"Shut up," she whispers, and kisses you again.

She sighs into your mouth, a soft, vulnerable sound that makes your heart stutter.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp, sending shivers down your spine. You walk her backward until she's pressed against the wall, her body arching into yours.

You trail kisses down her neck, learning her— the spot beneath her jaw that makes her gasp, the curve where neck meets shoulder that makes her fingers tighten in your hair. Her pulse races under your lips, a rapid drumbeat that matches your own. When you find a particularly sensitive spot, her sharp intake of breath is the sweetest sound you've ever heard.

She tugs you back up to her mouth, kissing you like she's trying to tell you something words can't capture. Her lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours with a rhythm that makes you dizzy. One of her legs hooks around yours, pulling you even closer, and you groan into her mouth.

Her hands frame your face now, thumbs stroking your cheeks as she kisses you deeper, slower, like she's trying to memorize every second. You respond in kind, pouring everything you can't say into the kiss—how beautiful she is like this, how real, how perfectly she fits against you.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen. You rest your forehead against hers, sharing the same air, neither of you willing to move away.

"Still thinking about the book?" she murmurs, voice husky.

You answer by catching her lower lip between your teeth, gentle but playful, and feel her smile against your mouth.

Her smile against your mouth turns into a soft laugh. "I'll take that as a no."

‘Take it as whatever you want.’ Your lips find her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. ‘I stopped thinking about the book long ago.’

She hums contentedly, her fingers tracing patterns on the nape of your neck. ‘Good.’ Her other hand is still tangled in your shirt, keeping you close. ‘Because I have a confession.’

‘Another one?’

Instead of answering, she kisses you again, slow and deep. Her tongue traces your lower lip, and you respond by pressing her further into the wall, swallowing the small sound she makes. One of her legs is still hooked around yours, and when she shifts slightly, the new angle makes you both gasp.

‘That wasn't a confession,’ you murmur against her lips.

‘No?’ Her teeth graze your earlobe. ‘I thought I was being pretty clear.’

Your hands slide to her waist, steadying her. She's intoxicating like this, all careful control abandoned, her public persona nowhere to be found.

‘Jimin,’ you breathe, and feel her shiver at the sound of her real name.

Her response is to pull you closer, kissing you like she's trying to say everything without words. Her lips are soft but certain against yours, and you lose yourself in the feeling—the warmth of her body, the subtle scent of her perfume.

The city continues its nighttime symphony outside, but in here, the only sound is your shared breathing and the soft, desperate noises she makes when you find that sensitive spot on her neck again.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your eyes. In the dim light, her gaze is soft, unguarded. Her thumb traces your lower lip.

‘What?’ you ask, voice rough.

‘I'm trying to decide something.’

"Whether to throw me off the balcony? Because I thought we moved past—"

She cuts you off with another kiss. Her hands cup your face, holding you there as she explores your mouth with a thoroughness that makes you dizzy. You respond by feeling her firm and perky ass.

‘No—,’ she moans when you break apart for air. ‘I'm trying to decide if this is real.’

Instead of answering, you trail kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse jump under your lips. Her head falls back against the wall, giving you better access. When you reach her collarbone, she makes a sound that's half-sigh, half-moan.

‘Feels real enough,’ you murmur against her skin.

Her laugh is breathy, unsteady. ‘I meant—’ She gasps as you find a particularly sensitive spot. ‘I meant this. Us. This whole night.’

You lift your head to look at her. Her lips are swollen from kissing, her carefully styled hair a mess from your fingers. She's never looked more beautiful.

‘If you think I did all of this for the fun of it, you’re clearly missing something.’

‘A gear in the head?’

‘Definitely—’

‘Gosh, how do I allow this sort of petulance?’

‘Because it’s me.’

‘You’re a player.’

‘Only for you.’ You catch her lips, even more wanting—and she forfeits it all.

You pick her up, mussing up her perfect outfit, mussing up her perfect lips. And you finally throw her against the bed.

‘You’re really roughing up Prada’s global ambassador.’

‘And ambassador to a dozen other brands worth billions—couldn’t care less.’’

She smirks, and her arms open, waiting, pliant, obedient.

You rip off your buttoned shirt, tear off your pants; now, there’s truly no way of going back.

‘Wow. That scar is a lot larger than I imagined.’ She’s referring back to the scar that you received during that drunk haze of a night.

‘It was dark. Might’ve even been a lion.’

‘Mm. Heroic. Come here.’

Now, who could ever resist that?

You rip off her clothes, each layer even more decadent than the other. And then, she was there. bra barely containing her breasts, and a layer of dampness along her sexy panties.

‘That was expensive, by the way.’

‘I’ve got a payment plan on course.’

‘Mm. Enlighten me.’

You pull her panties to the side.

She’s dripping wet, nectar spooling right on her pink core. A glorious sheen that makes you stare far longer than you should’ve. She’s red-faced at this point, and her forearms cover most of her sight, and yet, she doesn’t move, doesn’t retreat.

The first lick you place, just a brush against her engorged clit, crumbles every self-regulated triangle-approved behavior she has. Two pants turn fifty, one lick crumbles everything. Her hips coax you in ways gymnasts can’t even replicate, and of course, you oblige.

Soft licks, teases around her outer lips, swollen from all the anticipation and arousal; tonguing at her inner lips, just at the crux of her clit, gets her screaming in ways her deep voice would never register; and above all, she’s orgasming, squirting, losing every pretense in favor of her built up lust.

‘Oh~fuck—’

Her fingers find purchase in your hair, and she softly pulls you in—rides your face like it was all that she ever desired: her eternal wish.

‘Ohmygod! Imcumming!’ Her voice turns mousy, and her pupils go back in pure pleasure, coupled with hip movements thought impossible: this was the greatest pleasure of her life.

You grab her chin, squeeze softly, her cheeks molding to your grasp, and you press a soft kiss right on her kiss-bruised lips. You let her taste herself on your tongue.

‘Good. Right?’

And she nods. A complete personality switch from the playfulness she displayed earlier. Delicate.

Her hands land on your boxers as she melted into your kiss. Once you felt her palm your cock, you groaned right in her ear. She starts softly, stroking. But her strokes grow more all-encompassing as you press harder into the kiss.

‘Fuck. You’re so good for me.’

She mewls back, on the gradient slide of unadulterated pleasure.

Softly, you release your shaft from the boxer. And you press your cock right on her core. Feeling the wet heat, the sticky nectar that pooled to a mindbreaking degree.

‘It goes without saying.’

‘That I’m head over heels for you?’

You grin, ‘Well, that too, but you’re hopeless.’

‘Maybe if we weren’t so compatible.’

You grab a breast, palming it, ‘Well that, that too, goes without saying.’

She smiles, so warmly, every trace of everything else melted off her face––the sort of smile you’d never forget, and the sort of smile you’d want to wake up to… forever.

Finally, you press into her, and her wet heat envelops you, enough to make you groan, enough to make her moan like there’s no greater pleasure––because really, there’s nothing else.

Her pussy clings onto you, a wet suction that is immeasurably soft and yet, a vacuum-seal-like tightness that gets you groaning after every thrust.

Her arms cling to you, and her eyebrows knit, her small face full of emotion—all of it processing how good you fuck her.

‘Oh god. Would it be bad that I want you to declare to the world that you own me?”

‘Chapter 12—’

She cuts you off, ‘Something along the lines of: “Chapter 12: Karina is my fuckslut”’

‘I don’t tolerate Karina disrespect.’ You say, truthfully.

‘Even if it’s by myself?’

‘Especially for that case, sweetheart.’

‘Oh… you’re too good.’

‘You’re blind.’

Most popular idol in the world, and… she’s hopelessly down bad for you.

‘If I’m blind. Then you don’t have eyes—complete darkness.’

‘We’re two of the same.’

‘I’m your biggest fan.’

‘We’re two of the same.’

‘I love you.’

‘You have a way with words, Karina.’ You reply, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, thrusting into her harder, sharing breaths.

‘You’ve inspired me.’

And you lock lips with her, the thrusts were becoming a blur, and her moans music to your ears—it was all just… heaven.

There was no technique. Nothing too purposeful. It was all just pure affection, pure love guiding all your actions. And the fact that she’s cumming again was no coincidence.

‘Oh. My. Fucking. God!’ Her head goes back deep into the pillow and you follow suit. Pressing soft kisses that covered every square centimeter of her beauty, kisses that made her giggle even in her most orgasmic moment of her life.

‘If I knew anything that felt like this… I’d be doing it constantly.’

‘Well—’

‘That’s right,’ Karina gives a soft peck, ‘I have you now.’

You could feel her heartbeat, her skin precipitate, and her cunt pulse—it’s just heaven at this point.

‘Are you trying to convince me to follow you?’

‘2 years, finest in New York.’

‘Deal. Though you overbid a little.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Means anything you want, dear.’

The soft slick of her cunt made it nearly frictionless, just pure pleasure for both parties. Her hips gave way every time, an identity of its own, retreating when you thrust too hard, giving in when softer.’

‘Is this like a sugar mommy situation?’

‘Two words I never expected you to say.’ You both share a laugh.

‘I mean that’s what it is right?’

‘A power imbalance? Please. I can get you to buy a New York penthouse for me at this point.’

‘Well. You’re right. But—’

You bring your cock to the hilt inside of her, whilst stealing her lips for a deep kiss. She moans and mewls and gasps—music to your ears. You change positions. You bring her legs to your shoulders, and you begin kissing along her ankle while thrusting inside of her.

This time, you can see the full view. How her breasts bounce against the thrusts, how her slick has completely covered your entire length at this point, and how beautifully her face is framed between it all.

Her mouth’s agape, moaning, giggling intermittently with the jokes shared through eye contact. You bite softly at her ankle then down her legs, to her calves, then releasing her legs altogether to kiss her again.

She fits perfectly against you, small and delicate but the perfect puzzle piece under you. She’s absorbent, aware of your needs, placing soft kisses along the ridges of your eyebrows, rubbing away the day’s fatigue along your jaw and temple.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

‘I didn’t hear.’

You press against her, feeling her breasts spool against your chest, bring your thrust to the hilt, the wetness of her loins pressed against yours, all of them vividly apparent. ‘I love your beauty. I love your humor. I love how clever you are. I love how authentic you are. And I could continue on and on but I’m about to cum.’

Karina sniffled, ‘God, I was about to cry and then you say that.’ She softly smacks your shoulder, ‘just cum inside me and let’s cuddle.’

You oblige, the thrusts turn into a haze of pure pleasure, a desperate moment chasing the local maxima, and finally, you burst inside of her. Cum spooled, all inside her, and she moans so gracefully, staring at you with all the affection in the world.

‘We can worry about this tomorrow.’ She palmed your jaw.

‘Of course.’ You fall onto her, cuddling her.

Both of you are a mess, gross, bodily fluids spread everywhere, and yet, the both of you fell into a deep slumber.

A/N: I'd like to apologize for switching up styles so much (But if you enjoyed this dialogue-heavy work, then lmk!)

#smut #kpop smut #fanfic #male reader #kpop #aespa #aespa smut #karina smut #aespa karina

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hazelcallahan · 2 months ago

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ok “all vi needed to do was call caitlyn cupcake to make her turn on ambessa” is a fun little bit that i will participate in but i really feel like it’s contributing to two major misconceptions/complaints:

1. that caitlyn’s heel turn was sudden, and

2. that vi and caitlyn have reconciled

so let’s break that down, shall we

1. every single hint was there that caitlyn was chafing against ambessa’s regime and doing every little thing in her power to resist without putting herself and her loved ones at great risk. from the first scene with maddie - hell, the opening montage - you can tell cait is fucking EXHAUSTED. weary. that’s a woman who has spent months suffocating, doing desperate damage mitigation when put into an impossible situation. she didn’t want the mantle of leadership, and what was she going to do, say no and let someone worse take it? so she’ll take it. she’ll ban the use of solitary confinement cells. she’ll argue against ambessa’s soldiers attacking civilians. she’s in too deep to really do much else.

additionally, there are hints that she’s been planning on ways to take down ambessa for months. that one scene with dialogue over them sparring is literally there to symbolize how every single conversation between them is a battle, both of them looking for openings, and no matter how hard caitlyn tries ambessa always seems to come out on top. you also don’t just come up with the plan she did entirely on the fly - tracking things like guard rotations is something only a schemer does.

2. sure, “cupcake” is a fun little pet name, but it’s so much more than that. the most obvious is an olive branch. vi doesn’t want to hurt caitlyn. there’s so much affection still there.

the bigger thing, though, and the thing i believe caitlyn is reacting to there, is it’s a sign of distance. vi used “cupcake” as a way to needle at caitlyn when they first met, when she didn’t quite trust her even though she’d broken her out of prison. after that, we hear her use it twice more in s1: on the bridge during their parting hug, and after the council meeting as she’s trying to leave. both instances where she, in that moment, believes they’re never going to see each other again, and so she has a vested interest in creating that distance. on the other hand, we hear her use caitlyn’s name after she hears the gunshot on the bridge, in a moment of genuine fear and affection.

come s2, vi doesn’t use “cupcake” at all in act 1. she used “cait” a lot. still a nickname, but also caitlyn’s actual name - i know you, i see you, i care about you. caitlyn’s observant enough to notice this, even passively, even if she didn’t realize it until she heard “cupcake” months later, but i can’t help but feel like she takes that nickname as a sign of how they’ve drifted. she feels like she has to start over again with this woman she clearly loves. the meaning is clear to her: i won’t hurt you unless you give me a reason to, i’ll work with you if that’s what you need, but i’m not going to let myself get close to you just yet.

#caitvi #speaking my truth!#arcane #arcane spoilers

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writerpeach · 3 months ago

Text

Hauteur

LE SSERAFIM Kim Chaewon x m! reader

14k words

---

Read on AO3

“God, you’re so bad at this.”

“Yeah, no shit, Chaewon.”

“Like, really bad, you know? Like you should not be allowed to play this game bad."

You’re already down three games, struggling not to scratch again as you aim for a different colored ball this time—somewhere, anywhere, but in the goddamn pocket. Safe to say, things are not going well tonight.

“Shut up, Chae—you’re distracting me.”

"No fucking way I am," Chaewon fires back, not missing her mark as a striped ball clacks into the side pocket, almost mocking your failed attempt. “What’s your excuse for losing the last three games, then?”

“I just need to get warmed up, that's all—"

"Will that come before or after the sun comes up?" she asks, planting her stick against the floor and sliding closer. "It's okay to admit you're bad at this."

You grit your teeth, fueled by frustration, and slam your pool cue so hard the table rattles as the white ball shoots forward. Almost in slow-motion, it ricochets right off the side—failing spectacularly, right back into the eight-ball that spirals into the corner pocket.

Chaewon can't stop laughing.

“Oh look, you finally sunk one in.” You're left standing there, hands gripping your cue stick so tight your knuckles have turned white. "And that's game four."

You're about to snap the pool cue in half right here, then and there. You're fuming; Chaewon is eating all of this up, covering her mouth before taking a sip out of a beer bottle that's almost empty.

"Rematch. We're going again," you hiss out.

"So I can humiliate you again? What's the point? You can't beat me. And you owe me how much, exactly? Pretty sure your entire week's pay is gonna get fucking wiped after this.”

"Then one more game. Double or nothing."

"Oh sweetie, you're cute. I can't take more of your money. At this rate, you're not gonna have enough to pay rent.”

"Chaewon—" you nearly growl, gritting your teeth again. "Double. Or nothing."

Her eyes widen with curiosity, an amused smile tugging on those lips of hers while you wait for an answer. This soft little sigh escapes as Chaewon takes another sip out of her beer bottle, looking you over from the other side of the table.

"That's boring. Let's make this more interesting," she proposes with a devious grin on her lips, drinking some more before setting the bottle on the edge of the pool table. Chaewon doesn't let her confidence falter, eyes never looking away from yours—leaving you wondering what devilish thoughts have taken her. “Raise the stakes, shall we?”

You stare at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Loser does whatever the winner says. Within reason, obviously. If I win, and I will—“ There's a mischievous spark in those eyes. Whatever it is, Chaewon wants you to bite. “If I win, I get you. For a week. When and wherever I want."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"I thought that would've been pretty obvious. One week where you can't deny me,” she starts, that annoying smug smile still plastered on her face while she carefully gathers up all the multi-colored balls into the wooden triangular frame. A quick run down the length of the green felt, and she continues, grabbing the white ball out of a little pocket and moving over to her side of the table. "Whatever I desire."

There's something about the way she enunciates every word that makes you shiver. You shouldn't take this bet, no way—there's a hundred reasons why that's a bad idea. Because you already know the outcome.

Chaewon turns back to meet your eyes again. "Seven days, you’re at my whims. So you can be my footstool, errand boy, or whatever else I wanna do—you don't have a say. Maybe I wanna jump on your cock whenever the mood strikes? Or make you go down on me in the middle of lunch at that cute little cafe downtown? Anything I want—you do."

That's the most preposterous thing you've ever heard—you'd have to beat Chaewon just to stand a chance, which you know is nothing short of impossible. But you can't back down, and you can't shake the urge to wipe the smirk right off that little brat's face, to find some sort of satisfaction in watching her sweat.

Yet Chaewon can sense the hesitation and does her best to persuade you further.

She takes her position at the far end of the table with her pool stick behind her, getting ready to break again. “If you manage a miracle and win, then consider your debt cleared. And for a week, your rules, whatever your little heart desires. Fair, isn't it?"

You shouldn’t—you know better not to agree to her proposition. Not to give the enemy an opening. And yet, your pride refuses to let you do anything less. "So, I get anything? For an entire week?"

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?" she responds, rolling the cue ball ever so gently as she decides where to position her stick.

"You're pretty confident, Chae. This could go badly for you. Maybe next time I see you, it’ll be in the tiniest bikini I can find. Or just lingerie. Something real easy to tear off."

Chaewon laughs, keeping her eyes locked on yours. "Considering the performance I've seen tonight from you? I'd say a loss is practically impossible."

Yeah, there’s no way you’re backing down from this. "Impossible? Fine, you're on. Hurry up and break so I can win."

Oh, she's going to regret this.

Shifting her posture, Chaewon bends over the pool table rather seductively as she lines up her shot. When she takes a glance over, your eyes stay glued to those tight fucking shorts—they hug every single curve of hers, giving such a good view of her ass.

"Unlike you, I know what I'm doing. I’m not the same girl you knew two years ago that used to help you boost cars and drive away from cops. Now, are you gonna keep staring at my ass, or can I take this shot?"

You don't respond. She breaks hard, the crack of her stick echoing through the whole pool hall, scattering the colorful balls all over the table—two go in, one striped and one solid.

"Which one are you calling, sweetheart?"

"Doesn't matter, pick one," you respond, determined not to give up any reaction whatsoever to Chaewon. "I'm winning either way."

Chaewon just cackles, reaching over to take a sip of her second beer bottle before taking position to line up her next shot. "I'll stick with my stripes then. Can't wait to have you call me master and kiss my feet for the next seven days, loser."

"In your dreams, Chae."

"I better start thinking about all the names I'm gonna call you then," she taunts, circling around the table to find the best spot to take her next shot. "You're gonna be such an obedient little pet for me."

You stay silent, because you're not giving her a modicum of satisfaction. And with ease, she's banking shots left and right, showing no mercy and striking her next target right on. No less than three balls in a row, gaining momentum before she takes a moment to bask in the glory.

"Don't worry, baby, we'll have so much fun. I think you'll look so good on your knees, licking my boots. Giving me foot rubs for an entire fucking week. Wow, I can't wait—"

Chaewon sounds so convinced she has this in the bag, and just the thought of her acting like you’re already her little pet gets you even more infuriated—that bratty tone, how she’s predicted that you’ve already lost, as if you're a simple means to her every desire.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you fire back, because you're not going to let her get in your head. That's what Chaewon is so good at, but you shove those thoughts aside, watching her land another shot into a side pocket, taking another sip of her beer afterwards. That's five shots down, only three to go—and it's all been her.

"Please, I've already beaten your pathetic ass four times. I'm not even trying anymore." Chaewon moves to the next striped ball, and with no difficulty lands it in, wasting no time after that to line up her penultimate ball—an easy angle, an effortless shot. She's merely two balls from putting you in hell for a full seven days.

You watch with bated breath as her arm raises, stick held in position before colliding hard against the cue ball—despite her near perfect technique, it rolls erratically, missing its mark as the orange striped ball veers off course, hitting the bumpers and missing its intended target.

Her brows furrow.

You try to hold back a laugh. "Nice shot."

"Fuck off," Chaewon hisses. She takes another sip of her beer to relieve herself before staring down the table without any concern. "Angle was all wrong, that's all. Not like you have a chance anyway, pet."

She's not exactly wrong—if you miss, Chaewon only needs two easy shots to secure the game, and you have a long road ahead of you, not even having your first turn until now. But it's not as dire as it seems, given that most of the striped balls are out of the way, leaving you with a plethora of options.

Still, you have no room for failure. Even if you manage to knock one or two in, you have no margin of error. One tiny mistake can cost you your freedom for an entire fucking week. How were you ever lured into this?

But you can’t give up before even getting started, letting those thoughts fly away. You find an ideal spot and sink your first shot, a smooth roll, falling clean into the side pocket. Chaewon seems fairly unimpressed when you look up. Not that you expected anything less.

"Lucky shot. First time you've sunk one in all night."

Maybe it's luck that gets you a second one too. And a third one right after that. Then Chaewon's expression does start to fade into one of annoyance and disbelief, watching a fourth shot sink right in front of her. But unlike her, you don’t get cocky. All it takes is one mistake for you to forfeit the game, and the rest of the week, too.

Halfway there. You feel the tension rising, but steel yourself, because you have no plans of getting your lips anywhere near Chaewon's fucking feet in the foreseeable future. A rival ball nearly bounces in after you sink one into the far corner pocket, rolling a razor's width before coming to a stop, sending your heart dropping for a split second.

"Cute little streak you’ve got going on. Don't get too comfortable.”

Again, you ignore her, knowing that any response will set Chaewon off even more. The brat wants attention you’re not giving.

One by one, you sink each colored ball, until you’re one away from catching up. Chaewon only offers the bare minimum in acknowledgement at the sound. One shot, that's all you need to take away her advantage, but one misstep will cost you everything.

Another deep breath. Your neck is tense, beads of sweat forming on your brow as you approach the green ball on the other side of the pool table. Not even looking at Chaewon, you pull back, line up—

And miss.

The little bastard completely flies off target, bouncing in the opposite direction, right into the bumper with bad intentions, almost smacking directly into the eight-ball.

"Looks like your lucky streak ends there," Chaewon says, hardly hiding a grin as she takes a long swig of beer. "Too bad, loser. I wonder how you'll look in a maid outfit."

She’s hesitating, as if victory is a sure-fire thing, with no chance of any other outcome, eyes staring directly into yours when lining up her next shot, brushing a loose strand of hair back.

"I know you're gonna be a good boy for me.”

Breaking eye contact only for a split second, she aims the end of her stick right towards the final striped ball left standing. Her grip is steady, and a few heartbeats later, Chaewon swings back, causing the little white ball to roll down the felt field at a sharp speed.

Clack.

She doesn't give it a second glance, her eyes staring into yours—lips parted with that annoyingly smug smile on her face as the ball spins its way home, leaving you in dreaded anticipation.

But that lone striped ball betrays her.

To Chaewon's absolute dismay, she looks down, waiting for the purple striped ball to plummet into the abyss, only to see her victory denied. It taunts her—merely grazing the corner pocket, still standing upright, close enough to convince you both that it could drop with so much as a sneeze.

Neither of you can even fathom what's just happened. Her hands grip her pool cue stick tightly, as she looks around, clearly trying to find someone else that must've screwed this up for her. Surely, no way could her perfect little plan fail now.

"F-fuck. Fuck!" she protests out loud, still in awe as the ball remains in position, mocking her in defiance. "This table sucks! It’s broken, stupid piece of shit!"

"Too bad, loser."

"Shut the fuck up! As if you have a chance of winning. I'm still gonna enjoy having your head between my legs, all week, idiot," she fires right back, seething with every word that leaves her lips. Defeated by hubris, Chaewon's demeanor shifts fast. But you don't have time for her tantrum, approaching the table to end this all.

Three balls stand in your way, and now you have the same chance Chaewon did moments earlier. You’re going to silence that bratty mouth once and for all.

She's fallen prey to arrogance, which is a mistake you're not making. With intense concentration, you ignore the foul swears that overpower the surrounding music, and line up your shot—then gently tap your way to glory. Another successful shot, a few colorful curse words from Chaewon, and you're free to move to the next. The final obstacle: the eight ball.

"Wait, w-wait a fucking second—hold on. Time out. Let's talk about this," Chaewon says, desperately, stumbling on almost every single syllable. "What if we just call the game here? Call it a draw and just walk away?”

Oh, she's desperate. Once the realization hits, Chaewon goes into total panic mode. That calm, cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by this girl on the verge of losing it all, watching your pool stick line up one last time.

And your smirk only grows when you look back up at her.

"No. This was all your stupid idea in the first place, brat. Eight-ball, corner pocket."

Your cue hits the last ball with force, shooting right past Chaewon—who can only watch it careen its way into the corner of the pocket you've called, the white ball right on its tail, dropping the eight-ball in behind with a loud, satisfying thump.

She stays silent.

There's no immediate response. Her arms are crossed over her chest, eyes glaring at the last two balls scattered all over the felt. And not a single one belongs to you.

Chaewon looks devastated. "Y-you," she stammers out.

Her smirk is gone. Her cocky attitude washed away, reduced to an expression of pure, unadulterated rage. "How—how the fuck did you—"

“Lucky shot, I guess.”

“For the entire fucking game? No, you—you hustled me! You fucking cheater!”

You take another swig of the beer bottle you were sipping on earlier—almost finishing it as your eyes remain locked, focused. Chaewon's hands tremble with anger, knuckles tight around the pool cue as she holds it between her hands, pointing it towards you like a knight’s spear.

Her expression darkens with a furrowed brow and clenched teeth. And she's fuming, ready to explode any second, yet can't find the words to lash out—

“I’m fucking awful at this, just like you said. Right?"

Chaewon goes silent—or maybe too angry to reply as she stalks you closer, stealing the beer bottle right from your lips and finishing it off with a few big gulps until it’s empty. And then she slams it so hard on the felt surface you worry it's going to shatter all over the place.

"I don't know how you managed to pull it off. I was clearly winning the entire fucking game, how could you have possibly—"

You cut her off mid-sentence. "Nobody likes a sore loser, Chaewon."

"I'll show you a sore loser, you little—"

She holds the glass bottle like a dagger, threatening you with it as your eyes narrow on hers, refusing to show a moment of weakness. You're not going to give her that satisfaction.

"Just admit it. You lost. Rules are rules. Be a good girl and accept it, Chae."

"Fuck the rules! This isn't even fair—"

"Seems fair enough to me. You wanted this bet in the first place, didn't you?"

"Yeah, because you're so fucking bad at pool!"

"And yet somehow I managed to win, didn't I?" you continue, savoring the frustration in Chaewon's eyes, which she so poorly conceals. "I'm so looking forward to this week."

She's shoving the bottle right into your chest now, glaring intensely, inching closer and closer until there's not a sliver of space left between you two. But eventually, she relents, grits her teeth, and inevitably accepts defeat.

"Fine—asshole. A deal is a deal. What do you fucking want?"

You take a moment to savor the sweet taste of victory. “Your tight fucking ass. In that bathroom over there. Hope you still keep that bottle of lube in your purse.”

A momentary silence comes, no argument, no protest, no further refusal. So out of character for her, but it's the sort of obedience that you don't take for granted, because who knows how long it'll actually last. "Whatever. Lead the way then.”

So without hesitation, you do—Chaewon finishes her beer before grabbing her handbag off the counter. You take her by the wrist as the two of you wander out of the bar, heading for the public restroom across the way. It’s late enough in the night that you’re not concerned with it being occupied as you shove the door open, finding Chaewon right behind in no time at all.

The lock clicks, and thankfully the bathroom is a bit more clean than you've been expecting. It's small, and barely fits the both of you together, with only black tile and dim lighting inside, a few paintings on the wall meant to spice things up. There’s only a single toilet in the corner, with a tiny sink against the back, a large mirror above it on an expensive-looking counter. It's not the fancy suite you spent last month together in, or the love hotel from last week, but it'll do.

Chaewon pushes past towards the mirror in front of the porcelain sink, and you watch her intently searching through the contents in her bag until her fingers grab hold of something to bring it to your view.

"My ass? That's all you wanted?" Chaewon asks, catching your gaze in the reflection as she waves a familiar bottle of lube at you, unceremoniously placing the little bottle beside the faucet.

"Among other things, yeah.”

Staring into the mirror, Chaewon is smart enough to know where things are heading, and wonders what she’s gotten herself into. The look on her face is a mix of irritation and pure lust when she turns around, eyes traveling south as she anticipates your next demand. "Get on your fucking knees, slut."

Here’s the first test—and Chaewon passes with flying colors. Moving away from the sink, she drops to her knees right in front, as if she's expected this outcome. And again, no protests, no attitude.

"I knew you'd be a good girl and obey all week. Doesn't cute little Chaewonie love that?"

"Fuck you," she snaps back, with venom laced in her tone while her hands reach to unbutton your jeans, wasting no time to yank them to down your ankles. And there it is—that defiance, the same fiery expression you're so familiar with on her face that you've grown to know and love at the same time. You just watch, almost too amused, as she yanks those boxers down next, not even waiting a second to let your cock free.

That stare of hers lingers for an extra moment while her delicate hand takes hold, giving slow strokes up and down, grip tight, a thin coat of precum along every inch. "Can't believe I let you put this fucking cock in my asshole, almost every goddamn day of the week."

"Luckily for both of us, your tight asshole loves my cock."

Chaewon can't hide that blush on her cheeks—it's practically impossible to hide the cute little grin on her face as her hand continues stroking, steadily increasing her pace the harder your cock gets in her fingers. She just ignores you and spits on your shaft, pumping her fist all up and down with each stroke, grip as tight as possible.

Another few moments and she's running her tongue along the length of your shaft—all slow and sensuous, a little breathy sigh before her pretty lips wrap around the swollen head of your cock, parting effortlessly as they welcome you into that sweet heavenly warmth.

Her piercing eyes glance back up at you, guiding you deeper into her mouth as Chaewon takes as much of it as she can—down to the hilt in a swift, expert motion.

"Shit, Chaewon—“

Hearing the way you moan her name, Chaewon can't contain her satisfaction as her head bobs up and down, lips moving slowly and carefully as they keep a tight seal, tongue flicking around the sensitive underside of your cock with each movement. You've become so used to this, the wet heat enveloping around you, soft lips providing so much pleasure, gliding all the way down, nose nestled against your abdomen for just a moment until it all repeats.

You're lucky enough to experience this on the daily—because nobody gives a blowjob better than Kim Chaewon.

Oh, she's a fucking natural, taking every inch effortlessly down her throat without so much as gagging, tongue swirling and exploring as her hand fondles your aching balls, sucking and slurping lewdly as spit dribbles down from her pretty red lips.

"Your fucking mouth, god—I get this pretty fucking mouth all to myself all week."

"Not like you'll be able to handle me for that long," she replies, with a lewd, exaggerated slurp around your cock as she pauses to catch her breath.

"You talk so much for someone on their knees sucking my fucking cock, shit—that's so good."

And for once, she's not bothered by that remark. It just urges her to slurp harder, bobbing faster up and down with those hollowed cheeks, never letting your sensitive tip escape her warm depths. Her technique is completely unmatched. Each and every movement, she seems to know exactly what you want most.

But you want something else, need something even more as you reach out, grabbing her head to shove her right back onto your shaft, to the very hilt—so fucking deep in the back of her throat.

Still, she hardly chokes, only briefly, a loud, lewd sound filling the room. Chaewon seems almost thrilled to be right back down that deep.

"I like you much better when you're nice and quiet with my dick in your mouth."

The silence is fleeting—but the glare given as soon as those words leave your lips can speak volumes, knowing this peace is only temporary. Her warm mouth is all yours to enjoy, your hips thrusting without restraint, feeling those soft, full lips slide perfectly along your shaft as deep as they’ll go. You get a tight grip into her hair, indulging in her heavenly mouth, fingers all tangled up in her beautiful auburn locks.

Nothing would ever make her admit it, but Chaewon absolutely loves this—so eager to please, clutching to your thighs as she takes you, struggling to control her breathing with your entire length sliding deeper and deeper while she lets you fuck her face.

"God, your throat—your fucking throat is too good, baby, such a good fucking girl," you groan out. Her nails dig deeper into the back of your thighs, trying so hard not to choke whenever you decide to hold her down, forcing that mouth of hers to swallow the entire length of your shaft.

"I'm in the middle of a public bathroom sucking your dick," Chaewon murmurs, short of breath as she pulls away from your cock to respond, strands of drool dripping from her swollen lips. "So clearly—I'm not a very good girl."

"Shame. Then I guess you don't want this dick in your ass, brat."

Chaewon can't even retort, staring down at your glistening, spit-coated cock throbbing inches from her face. Her hand is on your shaft again without hesitation, pumping slowly while her lips trail kisses along the side, pressing lightly in an agonizing tease as her tongue licks your length.

"I didn't fucking say that, idiot," she replies, trailing your length further as those luscious red lips envelop your sensitive balls, slow and deliberate, slobbering on them while her delicate hands move back up towards your shaft. "I know you're dying to shove this inside me, god—you're throbbing so much. How long would you even last with me bent over this sink, with this big fucking thing plunging deep into my tight little asshole?”

"Guess we'll find out,” you respond, taking your cock away from her grasp and slapping her pretty face with it, making a mess as spit decorates her beautiful features. “Get up, face the fucking mirror."

"Be gentle,” Chaewon says, wiping saliva from her chin as she slowly rises to her feet,

"That's a new one. Is that what you really want?"

"Fuck no. You better destroy my asshole,” she replies in the mirror with this sinful little expression, like she knows you’d never do anything else. So you bend her forward enough until her ass is high up in the air, her palms resting on the cold porcelain surface as you stand right behind with your cock resting against those tight fucking shorts.

She feels so tiny beneath you, that petite frame and curvy ass waiting to be taken, all at your mercy to ruin. "How bad do you want my fucking cock? Beg for it."

“Beg? Fuck you, asshole. You’re nothing more than a convenient toy for me to sink down on that I use for my own enjoyment. Not the other way around—“

Even when she's bent over a bathroom sink about to be fucked senseless, Chaewon still can't shut up. “Is that so? I'm your toy?"

"Absolutely—and that fucking cock is the only reason why I bother keeping you around."

That’s amusing, to say the least. You don’t give it another thought as you get a quick grasp on those tight shorts and yank them down so fast her head spins. Underneath lies a skimpy little pair of panties that gets tugged down just as fast until they rest around her creamy thighs, leaving you to admire those full, pale ass cheeks.

You grope them and get a nice handful, so enticed by her shapely ass that without warning your palm raises high, a loud slap crashing against her bare flesh. Chaewon jolts against the sting, whimpering and biting her lip, aching for more.

"I want it so fucking hard. Hurry up.” Chaewon grinds her ass back, pushing right up against your erection, doing everything she can short of begging for your length.

“So you do wanna beg? Didn’t take much.”

Chaewon squirms underneath as your palm slaps firmly again, gritting her teeth when it comes down with more force the next time. "Just get the fuck in me before I—“

Another smack cuts her off, the sharp noise echoing against the tiled walls as your palm squeezes roughly at her soft flesh. “So fucking needy.”

You’re both lucky the bass thumping in the distance can drown out the cries that spill out from Chaewon’s lips, as her exposed, reddened cheeks absorb every smack of your palm, the recoil so deliciously mesmerizing.

Her creamy skin marks up so easily, bright red where you've smacked her delicious ass over and over. She's growing restless beneath your palm as you deliver more slaps, the noise louder and louder, with no warning for when and where. "Sh-shut the fuck up! I need it right now, god, just get that thick cock in me, please—“

So easy for her to surrender.

Chaewon braces for another hit—but it never comes, replaced by a much different sensation as your slicked up finger traces against her tight asshole. So fucking tight, so greedy, eager to accept what's coming.

"You're pretty demanding for someone who's going to be on their fucking knees for me all week."

She clenches around your wet fingertip when it plunges in, almost involuntarily. It’s insanely difficult just to ease the slightest bit inside her ass, fighting through that incredibly tight, hot grip.

"No more talking. Shove your dick in my asshole or I swear I’ll—“

"Patience, sweetie. My cock's going to live in your ass for the entire week—learn some fucking manners."

"No. Fuck you."

This girl is unapologetic, even at a time like this. She's borderline infuriating to be around at the best of times, so you’ll just have to do what you always do best—fuck the brat out of her.

You pour a generous amount onto your cock, giving it a few full strokes before moving between those cheeks and plunging another finger back in. This time, it sinks in easier with little effort at all, knuckle-deep within that tight opening. Half prep, half teasing as Chaewon shudders, moaning so loudly while you spread that cold liquid, pumping two digits in and out. "Jesus, hurry the fuck up, asshole, I can't—"

"Can you stop being needy for like, five seconds? Relax. Be a good fucking girl."

"Try and call me that again and see what fucking happens—"

Her empty threats don't deter you from pushing the tip of your cock against that pretty, puckered hole, ceasing any further complaints as she lets out a needy, satisfied moan in response. One shallow thrust is all it takes to get right past that slippery tight entrance, stretching her right open to sink into those familiar depths.

"Ch-cheater," she mutters, while adjusting to the fullness, the overwhelming stretch of your cock as she grips the sink tighter. "You still fucking cheated. I can't believe you, fuck—oh my god."

You're barely in her ass and yet Chaewon is already stuttering, taking deep breaths as you watch your cock disappear between her pillowy cheeks. There's no other feeling quite like it—the heavenly vice grip on your length as her ass welcomes you right in and every single inch gets swallowed up.

"It's not my fault you choked at the last fucking minute."

As you wait for whatever she’s going to spit back, you bottom out—those soft, round cheeks pressed against your body. A perfect fit, nice and snug inside that impossibly tight asshole that you savor before drawing the entire length out of Chaewon as she sucks you back in again.

"Why does your stupid cock always have to feel so fucking good?" she groans, already losing the fight with her pride, as your thrusts steadily increase in pace. Her perfect fucking asshole clenches hard, resisting every attempt to slip out, just devouring your cock without complaint. "Just like that—fuck, oh my god, harder, you cheating asshole."

And nothing could be easier to oblige. Every ounce of spite and aggression vanishes from her tone, replaced with pure bliss every time your shaft bottoms out. No part of you stays idle, one hand gripping those supple hips while those slaps on her backside echo, each sting so agonizingly satisfying as her tender, red cheeks ripple with every rough impact.

"You really love my dick in your ass, don't you? Look at you, trying so hard not to beg for this."

"Shut the fuck up," Chaewon growls, her mind preoccupied by bliss, overwhelmed by the pleasure, mouth wide open and moaning loudly without a care in the world as you just stare at her in the glass reflection. "Just fuck me harder, god—pound my fucking asshole and shut up."

The way she’s stretching so nicely around your cock, it's impossible not to do anything else. Nice and deep, sliding in and out of that perfect fucking asshole, groaning from how warm and tight it is as your thrusts start to get progressively out of control.

Your hips crash against her body repeatedly, flesh on flesh echoing through the walls as your length pounds into her greedy little hole, fingers digging into her hips. Chaewon's sweet whimpers, little groans, and desperate pleas for you to give her even more grow louder, more frantic as your pace picks up, and she falls further and further apart.

"I fucking won and you're just a sore loser."

Your palm is harsh against her soft ass, firm slaps that leave her delicate skin more tender and sensitive. In fact, the more red her pale cheeks get, the more aroused the sounds escaping her get. With her head thrown back, Chaewon watches you claim her in the reflection with heavy breaths as she stares back into the mirror, reveling in every inch pounding away deep inside her ass.

"Please," Chaewon mumbles in such a pathetic tone, staring into your eyes in the reflection. Her fingers cling to the cold surface of the sink, desperately clutching for stability against your merciless thrusts. "I need—just use me and fucking wreck my asshole."

She can't hide the satisfaction on her face while you’re slamming right into her tightest hole, hard, deep, unforgiving. This is how you really like her, all pretty, fucked out beyond comprehension, practically incoherent and totally taken apart by your cock.

"Holy shit, shit—shit, don't stop. Give me more,” Chaewon whimpers, unable to tear herself away from the mirror and the depraved scene on the other side. Her tiny frame shakes, clinging so tightly to the sink for some sense of control as you drive your length deep, a loud slap on her reddened cheeks an exclamation point on every harsh thrust.

There's really no way you could stop even if you tried.

"Tell me how good it feels."

Your cock is deep in her tight asshole and she can't think of anything more substantial than fuck and please and more. Those sweet, desperate little noises she makes when your hips ram faster against her flesh fill the entire bathroom, spurring you on, reminding her this is exactly how this entire week is going to go.

"So big—god, I feel so fucking full, that dick in my little asshole," Chaewon says with drool coating her chin, hair an utter mess. "Feels too fucking good, that nice thick cock shoved right up my ass, fuck—“

"Dumb slut loves having her tight asshole stretched, doesn't she?"

"Y-yes—fuck, god, keep going. Shit, it's so fucking good."

In the middle of another rough thrust, you lift her shirt up enough to pull her bra up, letting those tits spill free. You grope at them so roughly, cupping them, then playing with those sensitive nipples, anything to push her a little more over the edge. They bounce in sync with your thrusts, and she’s so goddamn tight you can hardly take it, buried in as deep as your shaft will go.

“Can’t believe how good your cock feels in my tight fucking asshole,“ she groans out all breathy and shaky, holding onto the sink tighter each time while you plunge your cock into her greedy ass, balls deep without interruption.

The feeling is mutual—nothing comes close to how tight her heavenly little asshole chokes your cock, each thrust bringing you closer to release with every lingering moment.

It’s all so shameless. The way your hands roam across her devilish curves, how you tease those pert nipples before trailing down along the sides of her slutty little waist and getting a firm hold on to her hips for more leverage to pummel her tight ass even harder.

Through this onslaught of harsh thrusts, there’s no complaining, no bickering, just lust and a constant desire for more. All you can do is get your hands on her scrumptious ass, refusing to slow your hips down while you manhandle her sweaty, small body, fucking Chaewon as hard as you possibly can.

A few more slaps on her tender ass, and you’re spiraling towards the edge, unable to keep this relentless pace up for much longer. You keep your hands full of those plump asscheeks—spreading them so you can thrust even deeper than you ever dreamed possible, the tightness in your balls building and building.

"Chaewon, baby—gonna fucking explode, need to cum in you.”

"Then hurry the fuck up and do it. Dump your load in my tight little fucking asshole, come on, fill me.”

One look in the mirror and she looks so eager, so ready and willing for just that. It's everything you need to get your final moment of satisfaction. Burying your cock one last time, those sweet lips part in a silent, desperate gasp when you erupt, your hot seed shooting right inside her tight little asshole. You unload everything—thrusting frantically into her ass, squeezing those plump, firm cheeks as your thick cum spills and spills like never before.

There's barely a thought in your head as your hips start to slow down, cock pulsating, every last drop of your cum pumped into that perfect fucking ass. You’re spent, slumped over Chaewon’s exhausted smaller frame on the verge of collapsing, taking a few moments to just breathe—your head resting right into the crook of her neck, still buried inside her.

Chaewon looks beyond satisfied, leaning further into the counter with her head hung low, strands of hair stuck to her sweaty face, breathing still deep and heavy. “Shit—oh my god. Are you done? Get out of me already, how much fucking cum do you have, jesus fucking—"

"I would, if you weren't still squeezing the life out of my fucking dick. That desperate to keep me inside you?”

There’s not another word from her as she scoffs in the mirror, and eventually unclenches her muscles to let you ease out of her tight ass, her gaping little hole already overflowing with your load. You can't help yourself, getting a full, unobstructed view of your handiwork from behind, hands cupping both of her supple asscheeks, spreading them apart to revel at the mess you've made inside her.

“Fucking asshole," Chaewon mutters, while resting her back against your chest. Even now, she can't resist a snide remark, groaning softly as she begins to gather her senses. "I can't believe—the whole week, now? Really?"

"Don’t make bets with me you can’t afford to lose, sweetheart."

Her breath stays heavy as she processes it all, and you lazily kiss at her shoulders, the slightest hint of salt on her bare sweaty skin.

"Shut your fucking mouth.” She turns on her heels just to glare at you, shambling over with her panties still down her legs to grab some toilet paper to wipe the white leaking down her thighs. "Maybe I wanted you to ruin my asshole this—maybe I let you fucking win."

It takes everything in you not to laugh—that same old ego of hers, trying to spin this into something she can control, still so in disbelief after all this time. "Right. Of course."

Chaewon rolls her eyes as she continues cleaning herself up, shimmying her panties over her reddened cheeks and pulling her shorts up to cover herself up once more. "God, did you really have to slap my ass that hard? I'm going to be bruised for days."

"If I recall correctly, you're the one who started begging me to stop holding back."

"Yeah, because I knew you wouldn't—" Chaewon starts, as she shuffles a little closer, hovering on her tiptoes to press her lips firmly against yours in a deep, lingering kiss, cutting off any retort before it leaves your mouth. "Forget it, you ass. Now get out. Before someone sees us.”

There's little else for you to do when your pants zip back up, so she shoves you out and pushes open the door, gesturing impatiently for you to leave as you stagger out of the bathroom. Chaewon does what she can to look presentable, running her fingers through her hair, fixing her makeup, tucking loose strands behind her ears before she tries to stay hot on your heels when she steps out.

“Come on,” you demand, and don’t even bother to look behind you, nor do you even care if anyone is around to notice how you both look as you make a beeline towards the exit. “Or I’m leaving you behind.”

"Hey, wait up—I can barely fucking walk, asshole!" she calls out, chasing after you on her shaky, trembling legs while her heels clack against the flooring—pulling down her shirt in case anyone turns around, desperate to keep her decency even after all this. "God, fuck me first and then you expect me to run fucking after you—“

That only makes you quicken your pace, not the least bit guilty about the state you’ve left this bratty girl in. “If your sore little ass can't keep up, that’s not my fault.”

Chaewon lets out a heavy sigh and narrows the distance, grumbling under her breath but otherwise following you into a taxi, swearing as her sore backside sits in the cab. You steal a few glances during the ride home, which ends in silence—completely exhausted, having just burned the rest of your energy railing her in the bathroom.

When you finally get out of the cab, Chaewon is far behind, walking gingerly up the stairs and holding the rail as she approaches the front door of the building. You just stare at her down, debating whether or not to unlock the door—waiting for another chance to get under her skin.

"Are you gonna fucking open the door or just stand out here all night?" Chaewon asks impatiently, glancing at the lock like she can open it with her deadly gaze alone. "Because I need a goddamn shower."

She's really making it too easy for you. So difficult to resist the urge to push every button and test every single last ounce of patience this girl possesses. "What's the magic word?"

"Fuck you."

"That's two words."

"Let me in already before I break this door down, you fucking asshole!"

Ah, there it is—her breaking point. That famous short-fused temper so dependable to show itself at just the right moment.

"Remind me again, Chae—what was the bet about exactly?" The question hangs in the air, and Chaewon seems about ready to kick a hole in your front door. Seeing her frustration escalate only puts a smile on your face, unable to resist her little tantrums, now more fun to push than ever.

"Can't seem to remember. I think we should call the whole thing off," Chaewon mutters through gritted teeth, avoiding eye contact altogether.

"No, a bet is a bet, sweetie. Whatever my little heart desires for the entire week? Think that's what you said, if I remember correctly." You pause a moment, staring her down—those flushed, rosy cheeks and narrowed eyes in your view as she fidgets in place when you lean in closer, standing directly in front of the doorway to taunt her. "Which means—if I wanted you to strip all your clothes off and do a lap around the block, then that's exactly what you'd have to do."

"Y-you wouldn't dare—I can barely even feel my legs as is," Chaewon attempts to argue, nearly falling over trying to take a few steps closer.

"Does that sound like my problem?" There's a long, torturous moment of silence, Chaewon seemingly lost for a snappy comeback or a witty retort—unable to string together a decent response for once. You see that her expression softens, eyes darting to the sidewalk outside, as the thought of taking a walk of shame runs through her mind.

"You're bluffing.”

"Am I, though? Like you said—anything I want, you do.”

The fact that you’re using everything against her, turning that confidence into vulnerability, brings nothing but pure, elated bliss. There's no denying her frustration, the irritation etched on her features while she looks ready to unleash every curse word imaginable under the sun.

Chaewon’s hubris is all her undoing, and she knows there's no way out of this, not when you've backed her up in a corner. It takes a good minute to gather her thoughts and actually put together an answer, but the more she ruminates, the easier it is to know exactly where her mind is going.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’m waiting.”

In the end, she lets out a defeated sigh—and unfastens the belt around her waist. Right in front of the door. Outside, in public. It’s late enough in the evening that the block is fairly dead, but she seems to realize there’s no getting out of this.

"I can’t fucking believe you—f-fine, whatever, let's get this over with," Chaewon murmurs out, looking quite sheepish as she tugs her shorts down her bare legs and struggles to balance in the dim light, stepping out one foot at a time. Without even thinking, her black top comes next, lifting it up over her head as she gives a quick look around the street before throwing it down on the ground.

And that's when Chaewon just stands there, sulking under her breath, completely exposed in the cool, breezy night in only her underwear, barefoot on the cold pavement. There's little you can do besides enjoy the view, that amazing body in nothing but a saucy pair of lingerie that you’ve gotten a closer look at, shamelessly baring it all.

Her face is flushed, eyes glued to the concrete, taking a deep breath before undoing the clasp on her bra—but that's as far as she gets before you reach a hand out to interrupt her impromptu strip show.

"Jesus, Chae—I wasn’t being serious," you blurt out, laughing uncontrollably and watch her pretty eyes go wide as the realization sinks in. "You were really about to run naked through this entire neighborhood?"

She shoots you that familiar icy glare and crosses her arms over her chest, doing little to hide the hint of her nipples poking against the fabric of her bra. "Oh my god—you absolute fucking jackass!" Chaewon balls her fists, finally working off that last little bit of restraint keeping her temper in check, immediately scrambling to scoop up her discarded clothing before anyone catches sight of her.

"Red looks good on you, by the way."

You're expecting one of those balled up fists to land squarely on your jaw any second—but they don't, and Chaewon simply strides by through the door you’ve finally unlocked, intentionally shoving a shoulder into yours. She storms inside, tossing her shoes and clothes on the ground, seething the entire way up the stairs. That's the last you see of her that night, hearing the shower turn on immediately when she finally slips into the bathroom.

✦ ✦

It's the next day when the fun really starts.

Chaewon is barely even dressed when the morning hits, wandering through the apartment in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely covers what little modesty her thong leaves her, digging through the cabinets to find something for breakfast. She's slept off most of the anger that lingers from last night, even so much as offering a smile when you saunter into the kitchen and pop a bagel into the toaster.

"Good morning," you say, taking a seat across from her at the kitchen table, watching her shovel down a bowl of cereal like she hasn't eaten all week.

"Morning.” Chaewon barely looks up from a mouthful of crunch, focused entirely on the food. "What am I in store for today?"

"Dunno. Haven't thought about it too much."

It's the truth, mostly, though Chaewon has no reason to believe otherwise, knowing her day will probably be spent anxiously awaiting her next demand. "Don't keep me guessing here. What's next, blowing you in the corner of the library? Showing off my tits off to everyone on the bus? Or maybe—what, you want me to wear a plug in my ass all day?"

"Now you're just giving me ideas, Chae. But if you have a plug, maybe we can start there—"

Chaewon kicks you under the table, finishing up her cereal and drinking the last remnants of the milk. "Absolutely not. My ass is still sore from you wrecking it last night."

"I'll be nice and gentle next time." Like that's a promise you can make, unable to stop thinking about the way her body looked bent over the sink, manhandling her curvy frame and just pounding away without a care in the world. It's all so deliciously vivid—those plump juicy cheeks getting redder and redder after each impact, swallowing up your entire length. And those delicious moans, the memory alone makes your cock throb in your pants.

"I don't think gentle is in your vocabulary."

You laugh quietly to yourself, biting down on the last half of your bagel, contemplating her words. "How can I ever be gentle when you're always begging to be fucking ruined?"

"Oh, shut up—I don't fucking beg." Chaewon drops her empty bowl in the sink before hopping up on the edge of the kitchen table, sitting right in your line of sight with a view of her thighs spread wide. You have trouble focusing on anything else but that body, unable to deny how captivating it is to see so much exposed skin, all these sinful curves inviting your gaze in when that flimsy material barely covers up anything between her legs.

"Did you forget last night? When you were so desperate and needy—begging me to fucking fill your ass?"

With that, you finish up the last bite, pushing your seat out and stretching for a moment. Chaewon takes notice and slides into your lap, thwarting any plans you have next—straddling you, knees firmly placed on either side with hands around your neck as she draws closer. “What did I just fucking say? I don’t beg. You must be misremembering things.”

Nothing else gets said for a moment as Chaewon holds that heated stare. The fact you're able to maintain it, even for this long without breaking, is an achievement in itself—such a fiery look in those eyes when she leans forward to press a hot, heavy kiss against your lips.

"Why would I beg when you give me what I already want, all the fucking time?" Chaewon peppers quick, teasing kisses all across your neck as she speaks and presses her palm flat against your crotch, gently massaging through the thin fabric of your shorts.

"Yeah? And what's that exactly?"

Chaewon gets right against your ear, pressing those perfect breasts firmly into your chest and nuzzles your neck, placing the slightest kiss to your jaw. "Pounding my little cunt until I cum on your thick fucking cock. Until my thighs are shaking—until your fucking balls are empty."

Shifting her weight, she lingers on your lap, dragging those long fingers through your hair and deliberately grinding her clothed core against the obvious tent forming in your pants. Already, you can feel the fabric darken and soak through—making a bit of a mess that you’re happy to contribute to.

"And what if I said no? Told you to stay still—be a good girl and wait. Patience and all."

"Then I'll tell you that'll never fucking happen. I'm not a good girl and never will be. Not when I can take your cock down my throat—or ride this fucking thing until you unload in my tight fucking pussy. Good girls don't take cock the way I do."

She makes her point very clear with a hot breathy whisper into your ear, making her desires well known. The look in her eyes, that piercing stare, ready to be defiled and filled—everything about Chaewon is downright sinful.

"So, come up with any grand plans yet in that dumb head of yours or..." Chaewon tilts her head to the side as she unbuttons her shirt little by little, revealing more of her delicious tits with every button loosened.

You just stare at that exposed cleavage with little shame. "Got a few ideas stewing. And here I thought you hated me winning your silly little bet.”

"Like I said, I let you win. I got tired of beating you too easily and decided to spice things up. So now you get to use me however you fucking please, and that's much more exciting than winning another dumb game of pool."

You don't believe her for a second, but you won’t argue about it—especially not when she's so readily giving herself away. This version of Chaewon is the best version of herself, no complaints, no defiance, just a little vixen waiting patiently to see what twisted desires come next.

"Well, what type of punishment are you going to give me today?" Chaewon gives this mocking grin as the last buttons of her shirt come undone, opening up to give the full reveal of her perky, luscious tits—round and heavy in her bra, straining the cups of the sheer material. "Go on, tell me, master."

”You are not calling me that. For an entire week. Not a fucking chance."

"You prefer daddy, then? Sir, perhaps—"

"None of those, you fucking weirdo, god, what is wrong with you?"

"Hmph, you're no fun. What good is bossing me around if I can't call you something special, at least once? Or maybe—"

You don't let her have another word, lifting her up off the chair in one swift motion, holding those thick creamy thighs steady while she wraps her arms around your neck for stability.

"Shut that goddamn mouth of yours before I find a better use for it."

You cross the length of the apartment in seconds with Chaewon's small frame in your arms, heading towards the bedroom. With every step, her tits bounce through her open shirt, making you eager to rip that bra right off. There’s no time for patience—you toss her onto the bed with minimal effort, her body sinking into the soft mattress with a little bounce.

The way she moves makes the springs creak as she fully tosses her shirt off her shoulders, exposing the black lace number underneath, her breasts nearly spilling out. Again, you just stare—that gorgeous pair bouncing when her back falls flat, her hands roaming across her own bare skin.

"What's master going to do to me?" Chaewon asks, unable to resist teasing and taunting, giggling quietly to herself. She’s so proud of herself for turning the tables back in her favor, every bit eager to toy and rile you up as much as possible.

"I swear to god, Chae—"

You're quick to discard your own clothes, leaving only your boxers as you step closer to the foot of the bed, enjoying the view of Chaewon's gorgeous body stretched out on full display. Those full breasts, ample hips, delicious creamy thighs—there's so much of her to take in, even the delicate features of her face, pouty lips that belong around your cock.

Chaewon bites her lip—eager to show off, squirming when those slender fingers roam across her toned stomach, before she brings one hand to fondle one of her tits while the other travels between her thighs, teasing herself with the slowest movements. "Does my body make your dick nice and hard?"

Her underwear is almost completely soaked when the two digits she has between her legs press deeper, rubbing in a slow, tantalizing manner that drives you crazy with anticipation. "What do you fucking think, brat? Do you even understand what your tight fucking body does to me?"

It’s a confession that materializes so easily, because you're fucking throbbing at this sinful little display she's giving, aching to be buried deep in any part of Chaewon's delectable body. With her gaining the advantage, she opens her legs wider, spreading them until you can see just how damp that useless little thong is—her touch getting bolder, bra clasp already popped and hanging by her shoulders. All that’s left is for those fingers to slip under the damp fabric that sits between her thighs, moving inside her sensitive slit, whimpering gently at her own touch.

"Then hurry up and put your dick where it belongs."

There's a dangerous level of temptation from those words alone, enough to forget about anything else when Chaewon scoots towards the end of the bed, settling into position on her stomach and reaching out to slide your boxers down enough to let your stiff length free.

Her wet little tongue darts across your slit, followed by an eager hand pumping around your shaft, stroking up and down as if it belongs to her (and it might as well). She falls into place with ease, focusing all her attention on pleasuring your aching, needy cock, her head bobbing up and down for a few moments—just enough to get it nice and slippery wet, dragging the warm slick of her saliva from tip to base. But that's all she gets to have, for now. "No, not like this. Face up. So I can use that pretty fucking mouth of yours."

It's an order that leaves little room for question—and she's quick to roll over on her back, pausing only long enough to discard the bra off her body. She tosses the offending garment across the bedroom to expose those beautiful tits as her head hangs slightly off the edge, right at the perfect level for your cock. You watch her hand resume those gentle pumps, taking pleasure in how much control you have over her at this very moment. "Use me, use me like the little slut I am. Use your pretty toy for whatever you fucking need."

Her eagerness to please is so damn arousing—it makes you pause as you look at that gorgeous face upside-down, stepping in a bit closer, aligning your stiff cock with those perfectly glossed lips and can't help but rub your tip all over them.

"Don't fucking tease—let me taste this fucking cock."

You’re quick to indulge her as your cock sinks deep into the back of her throat, your entire length pushing in at once, balls nudged up against the bridge of her nose. You just rest there for a moment, savoring the heat and wetness surrounding your shaft, right down to the base. “My god, Chae—”

Chaewon is completely ready and willing, hands grasping at her tits, pinching those pretty pink nipples between her fingers. As you draw your shaft backwards, a trail of drool and spit follow your length, as this needy girl runs her tongue across every wet inch. "C-come on, I can fucking handle it. Don't you dare go easy on me."

Oh, you would never. The second she takes a moment to breathe, you're slamming right back in, watching those pretty lips engulf every inch you give. She hardly chokes at all, throat accommodating your length without issue.

It doesn't take long to find yourself completely engrossed with the way her sultry eyes look up, those pouty lips accepting each and every inch. You can't help but moan whenever you bottom out, keeping a hand resting at her slender neck, so you can feel it bulge just the slightest with each movement.

"Goddamn, baby, I’m all the way in your fucking throat. You love that don’t you?" you ask, knowing damn well she can’t answer as you pump into her, the image of your shaft plunging repeatedly between her plush, thick lips too unforgettable. Chaewon can do little but sneak a hand down into her ruined panties, playing with her pussy once more while you use her hot, eager mouth—not holding anything back.

There’s nothing better than using this brat in every way you want, fucking her mouth with such little care—this is heaven. It’s impossible not to bury your cock so deep into that tight throat again and again. She only makes it better when her warm tongue drags against every inch, and her tits look positively mouth-watering from this angle that there’s no way you can leave them alone for a moment longer.

All you have to do is lean forward and grope both of her delicious breasts, kneading the supple flesh between your fingers. You handle them with no sense of mercy, using them as leverage for every thrust, to slam even deeper down her throat with your shaft filling her up completely.

If only Chaewon could speak right now—

Instead, her eyes gaze upward, pleading as drool continues to spill from her mouth. And it's such a lovely mess, tears forming as you get rougher with every deep stroke. There's no better sight, your hands full of those delicious tits that you massage and fondle, jiggling the faster your hips move against her face. While you’ve got them underneath your fingertips, your palms smack against the sensitive flesh, right across her stiff nipples repeatedly, just enough to enjoy the sound it makes. Not quite as satisfying as the way they feel.

"These pretty fucking tits, baby—I could play with them all fucking day,” you say, pinching each of her swollen nipples before returning another harsh slap that ripples the pale flesh so deliciously. And while she can’t respond, you feel it around your cock, these constant vibrating moans whenever your hand smacks one of those perfect tits, causing a slight red mark against the skin.

You hold a steady pace, and keep these unrelenting thrusts going, taking one look down at those ruined panties. They cling to her sticky thighs, giving such a sinful view of her fingers jammed inside her needy cunt. "Don't even need to win a bet for this. You're just a greedy fucking slut who loves getting used all the fucking time, aren’t you?"

"God yes—" is the only thing that comes out when you finally pull your dick away, a messy string of spit hanging right after. Her lips immediately latch onto your balls, licking and sucking each one with such fervor, that ravenous mouth not ready for your cock to leave quite yet.

One glance is all it takes, as Chaewon pants heavily and works at your sack with her wet tongue, but your cock is meant for far better use. So much to her dismay, you move out of reach, earning a needy little whine when you take a few steps back away from the bed and beckon her over.

She obeys, so eager and desperate to know what you plan next as she hurriedly slides those wet, useless panties the rest of the way off. That leaves her completely bare, tits out, juices leaking down her thighs, and you don’t even get enough strokes in as she slowly crawls on the floor, finding her position in front of you.

You're far enough from the bed now to do whatever you'd like, with Chaewon inches away from you, naked, on her knees, makeup slightly smeared from the tears spilling down her cheeks. The options are endless—and yet you can’t help staring, unable to stop looking at her gorgeous face, and this tight body, everything perfectly sculpted and flawless.

"Stand up, slut."

It's a simple command she's quick to follow, unfolding her legs and standing straight up as her bare feet land against the ground. You tower over her small frame, with only one thing in mind—and it's like she can read your thoughts, so excited for what's about to happen when her perfectly manicured toes come off the carpet. And just like that, you've got her hoisted in the air, held up with your hands securely on her ass as you drop her right back down on your hard shaft.

"Holy fucking shit—your cock,“ Chaewon groans out, and instinctively wraps her legs around you, lips parted, so lost in bliss when you’ve got her impaled on your length, impossibly deep with every last inch buried in her wet little cunt. You get a good grip on her body, squeezing those pale, plump cheeks enough while she locks her arms around your neck, her weight perfectly suspended in the air. “Pound me—pound me like the greedy little slut I fucking am."

She lets out such a desperate moan when you give that first thrust, the one that’s always the most powerful, stretching her in the most delicious ways. There’s nothing to support her but your own strength, and she’s practically helpless in your arms as you bounce her on your cock, so slick and tight and hot all around you.

It’s every bit overwhelming, in all the right ways.

"Such a tight little fucking cunt,” you say, before slamming into her heat so mercilessly, spreading her cheeks wide to make her sink down on your cock without pause. You know she can handle more, and that’s exactly what you’ll give before she starts to beg for it, impaling her to the hilt as you slide so effortlessly inside.

Chaewon is needy, wet, whimpering against your ear with her body pressed against you, tits pressed into your chest. It’s like she weighs nothing as you pound into her, these desperate cries for more that fill the room with a sinful symphony of flesh slapping together.

“F-fuck, just like that! Use me, just fucking use my pussy!” She's completely at your mercy as she takes everything you give, her tight hole welcoming your harsh thrusts, moaning so shamelessly while she holds on for dear life and buries her head in the crook of your neck.

"That's the fucking plan, baby.”

Her body is so easy to handle, so easy to keep your cock sheathed that you could carry her around anywhere until your arms give out. Not an ounce of mercy for your aching cock buried to the hilt, pounding her on your length just like she craves.

"Shit, shit—g-gonna cum," she whimpers out, barely able to give warning before her cunt clamps down on you almost painfully so as her moans spill into your ears. "Gonna fucking cum on your dumb big fucking cock—"

Everything becomes so, so tight, as Chaewon soaks your length, falling apart so quickly with your cock pounding her senseless. Those creamy thighs wrapped around you shake and tremble, toes curling, the suffocating heat of her drenched pussy so overwhelming it spurs you to fuck her straight through this intense climax.

"I've barely started fucking you and you're already creaming on my cock? Needy fucking slut."

"Sh-shut up, asshole," Chaewon says, a quick return to her old self even before the bliss subsides. "Not my fault your dumb fucking cock can get me off so easily. I'll cum all I fucking want—"

That attitude doesn't last long before you double down on your efforts, a blur of heavy thrusts into her slick depths with ruthless abandon, intent on making her a writhing, quivering mess. Chaewon can hardly complain when she’s this insatiable,having fallen right into her next climax with almost zero effort on your part—everything just too hot and slick as you pound her greedy pussy relentlessly.

"Your fucking cock, oh my god—" Her voice shakes, words interrupted with another string of moans, her warm, messy cunt drenching every last inch of your shaft. She just takes it all and clings desperately to your body, bracing for another explosive orgasm while you keep her mid-air, your unrelenting hips driving her to an all new level of pleasure and sensitivity. “G-gonna cum, fuck—oh my fucking god, gonna cum again on your stupid big dick—"

When Chaewon falls over the edge again, she’s an absolute wreck—breath shaky, body shuddering, little gasps each time you give an especially deep thrust. She’s downright delirious with parted lips and heavy eyelids, helpless to defy the pleasure that keeps running through her body. “How many times is that, baby? Four, five? Getting real greedy, aren’t we?”

"N-not greedy—it's not my fucking fault your cock feels so fucking good. Need you to cum too—in me, fill my fucking pussy. I’ve earned it."

That's all she can think about right now, sounding more and more pathetic with each slurred word. As if that's not already on your agenda. You keep her steady as you thrust a little more gently now, giving some recovery time as you carry her over towards the bed. Chaewon pants heavily when she’s lowered flat onto the mattress—still on her back and legs spread open, looking as beautiful as ever.

She takes this moment to catch her breath—just long enough for you to toss her closer to the center of the bed, folding her in half, legs up towards her shoulders as you get positioned. “Use me to cum—ruin me. Shoot your hot load in me, make a fucking mess inside, please—”

And how could you possibly resist that? The respite doesn't last long with her knees bent, feet dangling high in the air. One thrust, and she's nearly screaming as you plunge right into that hot, welcoming cunt, your cock engulfed in all this perfect wetness.

"So deep—so fucking deep, holy shit," she gasps, and you quickly fall into a ruthless pace, knees sinking into the soft mattress when you pound her heavenly cunt with everything you have, now focusing on your own release.

“Love your fucking cunt, baby—You want my cum? Want my balls fucking emptied inside you?”

She’s frantically nodding, and each thrust comes harder than the last, slamming every soaked inch as deep as her cunt will take it. You can barely slow down, when Chaewon is so slippery wet and suffocatingly tight, taking every punishing thrust and welcoming the next. "That's what my tight fucking cunt is for, isn’t it? Taking your thick cock and never letting go until your cum is filling me, that hot fucking load so deep.“

That’s the dam that breaks when your carnal desires get unleashed and she watches you hammer her cunt, so deliciously stuffed as she whines with satisfaction with this hot squelch flooding the room. The bed shakes beneath her helpless little frame, balls slapping hard against her asshole each time you bury yourself deep as you can go, getting utterly relentless with your hips and hoping the mattress holds.

“Oh my fucking god, cum inside, fucking cum in me, I need it."

Chaewon is long past desperate as the ecstasy builds up higher and higher, and you're on the verge of emptying deep inside any moment, adjusting your angle while her slick cunt aches for your release. She’s shaking with anticipation, every stroke a promise of your seed, pumping right inside where it belongs.

"Now, now, cum in me now—" Even all folded up, Chaewon tries to keep some semblance of control, with the springs protesting beneath her sweaty body. You can’t fight this urge, your body far past your limits when the pressure keeps building, until a loud guttural groan is the only warning she gets before one last deep, relentless thrust—

One last look at her face all contorted in pleasure, and you're emptying your load deep, pumping her pussy full with hot spurts that fire one after another, making her insides all white and sticky. But it's not enough to just fill her. You have this overwhelming ache to fuck your cum deep into her, ensuring she gets every last drop while your climax lingers, your shaft violently pulsing inside those wet, messy folds.

Even when the sensitivity becomes too much—you ignore it, because Chaewon feels too warm and wet, too perfect to leave such a heavenly grip, these slick walls that cling to your length and refuse to let anything escape her messy depths.

Chaewon looks more than satisfied as your hips start to falter, pumping through all the exhaustion until you can’t.

"You came so much, fuck," she lets out with a weak voice, and you can hardly argue with her there, easing out of her little by little until this thick mess leaks out, slowly dripping out onto the sheets once every inch slides out. "It's all in me now, all your hot fucking cum in my little pussy like I deserve.”

That cocky little smirk is back as you settle back and enjoy the bliss, left with a perfect view of the full mess inside Chaewon when her own hand wanders to those soaked folds, playing with this sticky warmth while she pushes whatever escapes back into her hot, messy cunt.

"You really are a little cumslut." She offers nothing but a smile, tired gasps and heavy pants, two fingers sliding so deep in her warm cunt like she’s proud to show off how much she can make you explode. The sheets underneath remain an almost a bigger mess than her, stained by an ocean of fluids, but neither of you show any genuine concern, lingering in that euphoric sensation and content to never move.

"S-so fucking what? Don't pretend that you don't love filling my pussy."

Before you can even take another breath, Chaewon pulls you right on top of her—your body crashing into hers as your lips meet. There's nothing left to argue about when the two of you lock in a lazy make-out session, tongues exploring mouths, not a care in the world about the mess pooling and staining everything below.

When Chaewon breaks away, you're left mesmerized by those pretty eyes, so round and full of satisfaction. "So, I guess… the bet is over now, right?"

Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous that Chaewon thinks she's getting out of this so easily. "Please, you think this is over? We’re just getting started, sweetie. I haven't even begun to run out of different ways to ruin you."

Chaewon just rolls her eyes, shifting her weight a bit more comfortably into the mattress to steal another kiss. "God, like we need a stupid bet for that."

She's not wrong, but that doesn't mean you're dropping your claim to the rewards anytime soon. Five whole days with Kim Chaewon, with the freedom to do absolutely anything you'd like to her. Not a chance you'd give that up. "What's the matter? Not confident anymore, Miss-I-can-take-anything?"

"Shut up," she whines, burying her face against your chest in feigned irritation. "I'm totally fine. I just need to make sure your balls hold up. Five more days of you fucking me all day... hope you've got a good supply. Maybe we should take a couple of days off to let you recover."

"It's okay to admit you can't handle me for that long. Maybe it's your tight fucking cunt that needs the recovery time. Poor little Chaewon, I've just been using your pussy too much—"

"Asshole!" Chaewon gives a light slap against your arm that barely registers, considering her frame compared to yours. "Now get off me and help me to the fucking shower. I need your filth out of me."

"Not unless I'm joining you.”

Another eye roll from Chaewon as she bites down a smile, attempting to sit up as best as she can with you still hovering over her—without much luck. "God, no, I swear I need an actual shower. You're just going to pound me against the glass until I can't even remember my own fucking name, and then we're never going to get clean."

"I don't see the problem here."

"Oh my god," Chaewon sighs, attempting and failing to squirm her body out from under yours. "Fine. You can join, but keep your dick out of me."

“No promises. Where's the fun in that?"

"Ugh, you greedy little bastard. Is your cock ever satisfied for even a moment?"

"No."

Chaewon lets out this exasperated groan as you help her off the mattress and onto her wobbly legs—grasping her hips, helping guide her over towards the shower across the room. She looks less than amused. "You're such an ass, there's no way you have anything else left. My pussy can't take it—god, you're gonna destroy me."

"Again, don't see the problem here."

You've never seen her more annoyed. It's the closest she's looked to admitting defeat. "Of course you fucking don't—look, I'll let you fuck my soapy tits in the shower, alright? But your dick is not touching anything else until we get clean."

"That's really not part of the bet though—"

"It's either that or you jerk off in there alone, asshole!"

There really is no arguing with that tone of hers—and there's no way you'll even pass on the opportunity to shove your cock between her delicious tits, all soapy and slippery wet.

"Fine, fine—I'll behave."

"God, good," Chaewon sighs again as the two of you stumble into the shower. She gets her moment of solace under the hot running water, taking a minute to rinse away all the mess of sweat and bodily fluids collected over the past while. Once you're both clean, you make good on your promise—so does she in return, pouring a generous amount of body wash over her chest, the suds lathering up her tits to create this perfect friction to slide through and let you do your thing.

And god, it's wonderful, every bit as euphoric and satisfying as when her lips wrap around your cock. Chaewon hardly has to do anything in particular, just keep a firm grasp on either side of her soapy, soft breasts in place for you to fuck into at whatever pace you'd like. It's not a long process—she barely has to squeeze her chest around your shaft, that wonderful slick friction enough to make you unload in no time, shooting a generous load all across her cleavage.

The perfect cherry on top of an already satisfying morning. A morning that feels like a blur, because it feels like you’ve been going at it for weeks.

Once you turn off the water, dry off and find fresh clothes, you make your way back to the couch, exhausted and drained, with Chaewon draped over your body. It's oddly cozy, lying here together, not talking, not bickering, just enjoying each other's company with your limbs entangled.

It's probably the closest to romantic you two have ever gotten. Maybe you've finally fucked all the fight right out of her.

"Can't believe you actually kept your hands off me this time," Chaewon says and shifts over, resting her head on your chest, eyes looking straight up at you. "Normally, you can’t control your dumb fucking cock around me for thirty seconds."

You simply glare at her—not much energy left to deny that claim.

"You sound so disappointed."

Chaewon simply laughs, snuggled up in her position across your chest. "Don't flatter yourself. Just surprised is all."

She's right about that—it really is an impressive show of self restraint from you, holding yourself back from railing her against the shower glass and shooting another load inside her. Then again, you've got the rest of the week to indulge in all your fantasies and desires. No point exhausting yourself out so quickly. "Oh, don't you worry. I've got plenty of things planned for later. All week."

"Oh good. I can't wait," Chaewon sighs and eases back into your body, getting all kinds of comfortable. "Maybe if I'm lucky, you can bring a friend along next time and you can double team me."

Of all things she could say to surprise you, somehow that one manages to. "Like I'd ever share you with anyone—"

"Trying to keep me all to yourself? How romantic. Or jealous that someone might get me off better than you, then?"

"As if that'd ever fucking happen."

"Well, then I guess we're just stuck with each other forever then," Chaewon says with a tired smile, fingers casually stroking through your hair. "Stuck with my tight fucking ass, stuck with these perfect tits, stuck with my pretty little mouth that loves swallowing your cum. Poor you."

"I'll have to endure somehow."

Chaewon smacks lightly at your shoulder in jest. "God, what a fucking sacrifice."

With that, it prompts the smaller girl to push herself up off the sofa, shaking her head as she heads back towards the bedroom.

"Don't forget, we still need to change the sheets, you ass. No falling asleep yet."

"Fine," you grumble, following her swaying hips into the room. "It's not my fault you cum so much."

"Me? Have you seen how much fucking seed comes out of your dick? You’re like a fucking faucet, I swear,” Chaewon says, pointing a finger accusatively at you. “I'm not shampooing it out of my hair again, just because you can't learn the concept of proper aim.“

"Don't be so dramatic, brat. You're acting like you don't absolutely love being covered in it."

"Whatever. Your balls have like an infinite amount of cum, god—“

“That’s definitely your fault. Look at that fucking body of yours, how can I not resist blowing a load whenever I’m around you?”

"Jesus, you're fucking insatiable. It’s called having self-restraint."

"Maybe, but that ass—"

Chaewon just groans, having far too much of this absurd conversation for her liking. “Look, if you prefer, next time I can just gush all over your couch and save you the trouble, then."

"Wouldn't be the first time you've ruined my furniture with your messy fucking orgasms anyway—"

"Stop blaming me! Oh my god, shut the fuck up, like you didn't ruin my favorite bra because you can't fucking help yourself from jizzing all over me!" Chaewon plants her hands on her curvy hips and glares as hard as she possibly can. And you have to admit, anger is a good look on her.

But those messy sheets can wait.

Because why would you bother with that when there's a dozen different places you can fuck her before the day is over? Why spend your time doing anything else but pinning Chaewon's lithe little body against the bedroom wall, and shoving your cock right back in her ass with a hand wrapped tight around her throat?

After this week is done, you're probably going to need a whole new bed.

So the sheets can fucking wait.

#kpop smut #le sserafim smut #chaewon smut #reader insert #girl group smut #male reader #chaewon x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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dreamingcricket · 1 year ago

Note

politely requesting either halsin or astarion with a tav/reader who like..shrugs off their advances bc they don’t think someone like either of them would take interest in them. like very oblivious to the fact that people actually like them. (totally not self indulgent lmao) ((i love mutual pining to lovers i-))

CW: Mild sexual content, reader is injured

Astarion has started to question whether this is your way of gently rebuffing him, or you're actually this dense.

He's not a subtle flirt. He uses all his most seasoned tricks, exhausts every overture he can think of. He can't remember wanting anyone this much. And yet, every one of his suggestive quips is laughed off.

He's there in the morning, sliding in beside you as you drink your tea. "Good morning, beautiful. You're looking absolutely radiant today." He runs a finger down your arm. When you blush and smile back, something warms in the pit of his stomach.

He's there as you put on your armour. "Allow me, dove." And as he tightens the straps on your mantle, he lets his fingers brush the underside of your jaw. "There. Just right." He purrs into your ear.

And of course, when he feeds. He takes his time, pulling you close, cradling your head, running his fingers through your hair. He nuzzles into your neck before he bites, pressing his lips against your rabbiting pulse for just a moment longer than he should.

Even in battle, when he's swiftly at your back, flashing you brilliant smiles as he races to your defense, you jovially thank him, like you do all your companions. Like he's your friend. Just your friend.

All efforts so far, completely ignored.

So now he watches you from across camp, the firelight dancing across your features as you laugh (he tries to ignore the tender stirring in his chest at the sound).

He throws back his glass of wine, and grimaces at the pitying glances of his compatriots. Of course it was obvious to anyone except you.

You stood, bid Wyll and Karlach goodnight, but instead of disappearing into your tent, you vanished into the brush.

Astarion sat for a long moment. He should let you go. You clearly weren't interested, and he should just... move on. Like he always had.

Who are you kidding, you fool?

He didn't care that he startled Gale with his speed and he pursued you into the woods.

You were seated on a rock, your face turned up toward a shaft of moonlight, eyes closed. He stopped to admire you.

"Sorry I took off. I just wanted to enjoy the quiet."

"I'll go, if you want me to."

You start, and turn towards his voice. "Astarion, didn't expect you."

"Were you expecting someone?"

"No... just-

He's suddenly surging forward without thought, and the two of you are rolling across the grass.

"Astarion, what the fu-"

He silences you with a burning kiss, brimming with anger and desperation. You roll him onto his back, furiously returning his advance. "What-" you pant between kisses. "-took you so long, idiot."

He's furiously tugging at your linen shirt, baring your back and shoulders. You'd be angry if you weren't still reeling.

"You never flirted back!" He pins you down, only to find his hips locked between your legs.

"I flirt constantly, Astarion! You drink my blood every night! I've been waiting for you to take the next step for weeks!" Now it's you tearing at his shirt, your hands groping for purchase on his shoulders. "I thought you didn't think of me like that." Now it's your lips against his neck, and he chokes on a moan.

"That's not flirting!" He's never been this heated during sex. He's a collected lover, and for all the inherent violence of his existence, he realizes - he wants to be gentle. At least this time.

He takes your hands in his and stills your thrashing. You lock eyes, both of you out of breath, chests heaving. He places a single, gentle kiss to the palm of your hand. "Shall we begin again, love?"

"I'd like that."

"My name's Astarion. You are a truly stunning creature," he leans down, and whispers to you, "... and I'd very much like to make love to you tonight."

Halsin thinks you are quite possibly the most extraordinary person he's ever met.

He can't erase the image of you the first time he saw you from his mind, eyes ablaze, arcane power crackling at your fingertips.

He's had so many partners, but all of his love affairs were brief, transient. Deep, but nothing had ever moved him like this. Typically, Halsin is straightforward with his feelings. His passing dalliances with fellow druids and traveling rangers had never daunted him. But with you, making his feelings known was... complicated.

You'd been through a significant trauma, and while you put on a quite the brave face, ever the intrepid leader, he's been around long enough to see your fragility. You'd seen so many horrors in such a short amount of time. Emotions were running high, he wouldn't risk coming on too strong.

So instead... he brought you gifts. It was a very natural way to court someone, at least. Baskets of berries, a fresh catch from the river, perhaps they're gifts to his own taste, but he hopes you'll enjoy them.

He offered to braid your hair, to help ease the tension in your shoulders with a massage in the evenings (his hands are absolutely enormous, which certainly helps).

And, unbeknownst to the rest of the camp, and to his mild shame, he couldn't help but rub his scent near your tent. He wouldn't invade your boundaries and touch your things, but he couldn't help his instincts. Lae'zel noticed at last, but only scoffed and offhandedly remarked, "The way you dance around your affections is pathetic. Tell them, or stop simpering."

Things eventually came to a head when you were injured, badly. The arrow tore through your side, and you hit the ground before you could register you'd been shot, the world became pain and a blur of color and noise.

Halsin was by your side in a heartbeat, shielding you with his frame as spells and arrows flew overhead.

"Don't move little one, you're losing blood." He sounded calm, but there was a tremor in his voice. You'd never seen him afraid before.

"Halsin..."

"Shh, shh. Hold still." His magic flows through you, and the muscles in your side knit back together as he pulls the arrow free.

"Halsin." Your hand lifted to weakly brush his cheek. Your vision was swimming.

The thunderous roar of battle magic echoed nearby. Gale rushed towards you. "Are they alright?"

"They will be." Halsin spoke it like an oath. "But they're weak."

"We'll finish this, get them to safety!"

Halsin cradled your body to his chest and barreled off the battlefield. You drifted in and out of consciousness, but were always aware of his arms around you. They felt like safety. Like home.

The druid ducks behind a half destroyed wall, and begins to reassess your wound. "Gods, you frightened me." He lays you down carefully, head in his lap, and begins to clean the wound.

You smile up at him. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

"I like this."

He's puzzled. "Being horribly injured?"

"Being held by you."

At that moment, your body finally gave out, and your vision went black.

When you woke, bandaged and sore, in your tent, Halsin was sitting by your bedroll with his back to you. Recalling in horror the confession you'd made, you try to pretend you were still asleep.

"I know you're awake, little one."

You sigh. "I'm... about what I said, I'm sorry. I know you don't feel that way, and-"

"Stop." He turned and placed a finger against your lips. "No more words."

You braced for his rejection. At least the druid was kind, empathetic. Or perhaps his pity would make it worse.

His lips coming down on yours were not what you expected. He was gentle, and smelled of moss and pretrichor, dark soil and sweat. You kissed him back, laughing into his mouth.

He pulls away, then presses his forehead to yours. "I'm here. As long as you'll have me."

"Oh, I intend to." Your attempt to sit up is hampered by a shock of pain from your wound. "Ow. Shit."

Halsin guides you back down to your pillows. "All in good time, little one."

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #astarion #halsin #mutual pining

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igotanidea · 1 year ago

Text

Almost there: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1: Too much

part 2 : Not enough

***

„One of those days you will get us both in trouble, Eloise.”

Due to some miracle, Y/N and her second-in-age sister in law managed to escape the watchful gaze of all, lady Danburry, Violet and Daphne, and rushed forward on the promenade. It was generally frowned upon, that the married lady strolled in the presence of a girl, who wasn’t even a débutante yet, but neither of those two seemed to take much interest in ton’s opinion.

“Trouble from merely speaking the truth?”

“Shall I remind you that this virtue is long forgotten in the society full of hypocrisy and deceit?” Y/N whispered taking Eloise’s arm to at least keep the pretences of being discreet. It would be unwise to let anyone else eavesdrop on the little exchange of words between close friends.

“It’s almost like you don’t trust me, my dear sister-in-law.” Eloise chuckled feigning the pompous tone.

“Please don’t ever call me like that again. You were my friend before you were my family. Don’t put the distance between us now. ”

“If anything I’d dare say I’m the reason you met with Anthony and –“ the sentence was cut out abruptly, as Eloise realised that Y/N was currently in the middle of a heavy argument with her husband. An argument that made her flee the house and turned out on the doorstep on the other Bridgerton’s house announced, in search for a friendly soul to talk to. And now she actually realised that all that may have been her fault from the beginning. If Y/N and Anthony have never met, they never would have fought and never—

“Stop overthinking it, dear.” The current viscountess chuckled observing her friend’s slightly hazy gaze and recognising it instantly. Clearly Eloise was getting lost in her own head.

‘Do not call me that!” the girl’s eyes became sharp and conscious again “I can hardly stand being called that affectionately by my mother, let alone by you.”

“Worked just as planned though.”

“Well, my biggest congratulations on being effective in the matter. You are almost as good at me with it.”

“Oh, almost? From what I can recollect I taught you most of those tricks.” Y/N smiled brightly.

“Really?” Eloise raised an eyebrow “I can’t remember. Hey what do you say we run away from our chaperones and have a proper, meaningful discussion on what’s troubling you?”

“I wish it was that easy. But I’m a wife now and apparently –“

“Viscountess Bridgerton!” a sudden voice came from in front of them and Y/N felt like actually taking Eloise advice and rushing off. It was almost like the whole world decided to prey on her misery on that particular day. First lady Danburry, now lady Featherington. “How lovely to see you! Marriage serves you well. You are beaming, dear.”

Y/N gritted her teeth in hardly hidden annoyance at such obvious show of nosiness and lack of tact. She knew instantly that she had to cut the conversation short before another wave of unwanted questions about her blessed (or not) state would come.

‘Lady Featherington. Pleasure to see you there. Are your daughters accompanying you or are they occupied with their upcoming prenuptial agreements? I surely hope they would be as fortunate with their future husbands as I am with mine. And speaking of which, if you excuse me, I need to discuss a very urgent matter on the subject with my family.”She put an emphasis on two last word and not waiting for response, abandoning all the rules of the lady behaviour, tried to drag Eloise away almost sighing deeply in frustration.

„Oh, but viscountess, once Penelope weds Colin, we will be a family.” lady Featherington stopped both girls in their tracks before they managed to escape.

„I beg your pardon, what now?”

‘Oh, you didn’t know, viscountess? Your brother-in-law is about to marry my youngest daughter. By some miracle, clearly, since Penelope--” Portia started rambling without a care in the world.

„Oh I know about that part.” Y/N faked a smile that didn’t reach her eyes „I merely have the deep conviction that us becoming family is rather an improbable claim.”

„But--”

„Dearest lady Featherington, do not push my hand here. I would rather stay in amity with you. A very fragile alliance shall you pry into my private matters. I dare say you have a certain interest in using those bold statements? ”

„I beg your pardon?”

„The viscount, is still in the charge of his famliy’s - our family’s finances. And that shall include the future fortune of Colin. Shall you insist on intruding me during my leisure time I might have a word with my husband.”

„You truly do not disgrace yourself with being modest, do you, Y/N? Has social advancement changed you so much? I clearly remember you being a scrawny child with no aspiration and position and look at you now. A snake in a sparkish dress.”

„She can at least choose the colour that highlights her beauty and doesn't make her look like--”

„Thank you Eloise.” Y/N cut her off before she could cause some more havoc. Lady Featherington was an onerousness but her gossiping nature was something Y/N did not need in the current situation. „I shall believe lady Portia will keep our little conversation in mind for the future purposes. Hers and her daughter’s.

„Actually if the viscount is around --”

„Unfortunately, matters of utmost importance kept him at home today.” Y/N responded with the most patience she could gather at the moment. There was always a possibility of farewelling the unwanted company, but as previously stated - there was no need of spreading the rumours of some discrepancies between the newlyweds. This hydra had to be beheaded immediately before the news spread throughout London.

„Such a shame you were left to tend for yourself then viscountess.”

„I shall believe I’d receive the most warm welcome back once my husband free himself of all the duties and occupations.”

***

While Y/N was having a lively discussion with indefatigable Portia Featherington, someone was observing her closely from behind the tree, staying unnoticed themselves.

“Are you spying on her now?”

“I’m not spying!”

“Oh really? Then tell me brother, why on Earth would you hide in the bush instead of accompanying your wife on the promenade? If I were you –“

“Good thing you are not.” Anthony muttered grumpily keeping his eyes fixed on his wife’s silhouette. Even with her cheeks reddened from the indignation and eyes sparkling with cunning intelligence she was the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. If anything, those characteristic may have only been adding to her charm.

he viscount may not have heard all the words exchanged between two ladies, but the way Y/N was keeping lady Portia at bay, standing her own ground and not wavering in the slightest was admirable and worthy of a viscountess. Serving as a reminder that his wife was not a fragile bird who was - in his opinion- in dire need of his protection and care, but rather a capable, strong woman, who would survive on her own.

Which brought him to another conclusion - that she didn’t rely on him as much as he expected her to. That she was proud enough to get the audacity to leave his home, leave him and decided (solely by herself!) to pay a visit to his sister.

“If I were you—“ Benedict grinned mischievously “I would run and drag Y/N away from Eloise before those two officially call you an idiot and make a plan for Y/N to leave you for good.” apparently the second son was capable of reading his older brother’s mind and pointing out all the worries that were already inside viscount’s head

“She would never.”

“I am unaware of the scope of your failure, but given the fact your wife rushed to Eloise, out of all the people must have been immense.”

“That’s it!’ Anthony hissed, almost crawling out from behind the tree, ready to clear this misunderstanding immediately.

***

„Oh, my dear!” Lady Featherington placed her hands on her hips as if she wanted to emphasize her higher position and knowledge of male-female relations. „Do not occupy yourself with the romance fantasies. Courtship is gone once the knot is tied. And after a child is born--” her gaze landed on Y/N’s stomach „you put all the efforts into keeping the family afloat and secure the future of the offspring.”

„I believe--”

„Viscountess, you are so young. So naive and innocent. Fed on the novels and stories.”

„Most of which cover the topic of history, literature and medicine rather than Shakespeare plays.” now the young woman was getting angry her cheeks flushing „topics which I boldly presume are far from your interest.”

„I beg your-”

„I kindly forgive you, lady Featherington. Now if you excuse us - I shall wish you a good day.”

„I am not--”

„Lady Featherington.”

The sudden deep voice coming from behind made all the ladies turn around at once.

„Viscount.” Portia bowed slightly „I was just having a little chat with your wife.”

„Educating her on the specificity of marital relations?”

„Giving her some of the knowledge that her prematurely deceased mother - God rest her soul - did not have the opportunity to teach her”

„How kind of you.” Anthony almost smirked and Y/N had to muffle the chuckle forming in the back of her throat looking down. It was like she saw the old him. „However I suppose that once I am here, you shall be free of your educative duties?”

„I--”

„do not preoccupy yourself my lady. My wife shall not lack the company from now on.” having said that, Antony walked right to Y/N offering her an arm and - a sight truly unexpected - bid the older lady goodbye while leading the viscountess away.

„I didn’t need you to save me.”

„such a shame I happened to be around then.”

„My undoing indeed.”

„Unforunate event that you might have to keep the externals for the duration of a stroll.” Anthony held her tighter and closer to him while nodding head to the acquaintance.

***

„Did you gather some intel on the current situation of our brother and his lovely wife?” Benedict, who followed the two of them without any hesitation, asked Eloise.

„I am Y/N’s confidante, I shall never-”

„You cannot trick me sister.”

„Anthony is an idiot.”

„I had quite a feeling you would say something like that. Now- shall we interfere or remain passive observers as Antony makes a fool of himself begging for her forgiveness?”

Eloise smirked as they continued their following.

She and Benedict always understood each other without words.

Edit: part 4 Stuck

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#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst

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letsbangts · 1 month ago

Text

thank you || jjk

⤷ summary: when you express your appreciation for the man you married

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.4k

⟶ genre: fluff, married couple au, established relationship au

⟶ content: husband!jk, fratboy!jk briefly mentioned, sweetheart kook that could cause cavities

⟶ warnings: none just pure fluff

↬ a/n: so this is inspired by you may want to marry my husband. hope you enjoy! :) as always hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

I have been married to the most extraordinary man for four years. I am planning on many more (a plan that has been in effect since our first date seven years ago and will continue to be). And for that, I feel I should express my gratitude.

Thank you.

Honestly, I do not know what I am thankful for, for everything, I guess? For him always being there, for him staying by my side. For loving and treating me exactly how I have always wanted a man to.

Now, you may wonder who this gentleman is, and I am so happy to tell you, Jeon Jungkook.

He was an easy man to fall in love with. I did it in one day.

Let us take a trip down memory lane, shall we? Seven years ago, a young lady struggling with dealing with college and her part-time job gets dragged out by her best friend (I guess I should be thanking her too) attends a year-end party at a frat house one late evening. About an hour later, she bumps into a boy who spills his drink on himself, though all he can do is say to her with the brightest smile: You okay there, Clumsy?

And when she looks up at his face, she realizes that this is no douche frat boy with beer on his shirt, but an unbelievably attractive high-spirited young man. She shyly replies: Yeah, I'm okay. That is when what was supposed to be quick party banter with a stranger turned into a night of great conversation and a polite walk home. That then turned into sweet exchanges of subtle flirtatious texts and small phone calls that had this young lady thinking: Uh-oh, there is something loveable about this person.

As the couple enjoyed many hangouts during the beginning of summer (by the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to marry him) amidst the ever-growing flirting, they finally acknowledged their immense attraction. Then the hangouts turn into dates when that lovely young man finally asks her out. That is when they would have officially kicked off their step from subtle flirting to very blatant obvious flirting—the beginning of a couple that would only continue their journey together.

So that was the start of us.

I am a bit biased, but I will create a list based on my experience of coexisting with him for about 2,556 days on the reasons I am thankful for him and thus love him. The following list of attributes is in no particular order because everything about him is so important to me.

Starting with the basics: His blindingly contagious smile, his gorgeous body filled with pure joy and positivity (and muscle), his adorable fluffy hair that falls over his forehead to match his striking brown eyes, and his effortlessly breathtaking passionate singing, of course.

He always knows how I am feeling and how to match his mood to whatever one I am in. He can read my face with just a simple glance. I have always appreciated how he adjusts his mood to fit my own. If I am in the dumps and his spirits are up, he brings them down to comfort me; even if he is down in the dumps, he lifts his spirits to keep a smile on my face. And for that:

Thank you.

If I could list just one of the things that made me fall in love with him from day one and still makes my heart flutter to this day, it would be his little acts that are natural for him, which shows how much of a gentleman he is. From always opening doors for me, making sure I walk on the inner side of the sidewalk, giving me his jacket to wear, or carrying me into the bed when I fall asleep on the couch. He may not know how much I appreciate the little things, but those little things always remind me I sincerely have the best man out there.

Silently suffering with the things I put him through that he may not want to do. Sitting through the cliché chick flicks, trailing behind me in the store as I look at three different tops that he says all look great on me but always end up picking the one he can tell I want more, or even giving up his personal space and all feeling in his right arm because he knows I sleep much better entangled with him.

That brings me to something he may not know that I know about him. He holds in a lot more than he leads on. The song he tells me he is struggling to perfect but tells me it is only a little bit of writer's block. Yet I can see in his eyes that it stresses him much more than he says. Yet he is always quick to change topics with a:

How could you have gotten prettier while I was gone?

So tell me about your day. Did anything interesting happen today?

If I did not know him so well, I could have easily missed these things, but I have come to learn about the kind of person he is. He is the type of person who always puts others before himself. He leads himself to take on the role of making sure others around him are okay. He already knows he does not have to hide his worries from me, but Jungkook still always tries to keep the minor worries to himself because he believes they are things I will excessively stress over on his behalf. (and he is right, I would, what can I say I love the guy)

We have come to know each other so well over the years, huh?

When looking for a dreamy, last-minute adventure, he is my man. He always comes with me on random just-cause trips, be it a road trip to the countryside for a break from the city or a train ride to the sea to walk by the shore.

Thank you.

If it is still unclear, here is the kind of man Jeon Jungkook is: He surprised me on my first day at my new job with flowers because he knew how nervous I was. He is a man who is always up early and goes out to surprise me every Sunday morning by putting a different kind of flower on my nightstand with a love note. A man that comes out from the minimart or gas station and says: Hold out your hand. And, voilà, a plastic ring he got from a gumball machine (had that been his proposal, my answer would have been yes).

I am sure you understand what I am trying to say by now, and he already knows how crazy I am about him. Wait! Did I mention that he is incredibly handsome? I will never get tired of looking at his handsome face.

If I am making him sound like a prince and our relationship sounds like a fairy tale, that is not too far off. I consider his proposal one for the books: Ever since you stumbled into my life, quite literally. I have never been able to picture being without you. Will you marry me, Clumsy?

Jungkook, I was serious about what I told you in our vows:

I always want more time with you, Jungkook. I want more time with the guy who takes me to get ice cream in the winter. I want more time sipping beer in bed with my drinking buddy. Although I desire our time together to be endless, we cannot live forever. But as long as I am alive, as long as I am a person on this planet, I will continue to follow you wherever the road takes us. So let us walk it together, alright?

Your dependability and loyalty are the qualities that show you are the most extraordinary husband, the most extraordinary man, and will be the most remarkable father one day. I know you will lead our future family into a lifetime of happiness because that is where you have been leading mine for seven years. I know you will continue to do so.

I will wrap this up because I can go on and on about how you are the most genuine, non-self-oriented gift I could have received. So, thank you for being you. I hope for the day that I get to tell our children about the kind of man their father is, the man Jeon Jungkook is, and about the love story I am honoured to be a part of.

(P.S. That day I mentioned will be coming in approximately nine months!)

With all my love, Clumsy xo

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capitanology · 3 months ago

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hsr men and their love !

— or how they show their love towards you + the little moments you have with them | including. . .aventurine, dr ratio, jing yuan, dan heng

content warning: nothing, all fluff!

word count: 1.9k

AVENTURINE WHO. . .

yes, will shower you with lavish gifts and makes sure that only the finest of silks adorns your body because you deserve only the best of everything. it makes his heart swell with fondness each time his eyes catches sight of you covered in his love, that being the items he procured without much effort yet still remained thoughtful all the same.

but aventurine also loves the downtime that comes after the end of a mission, when he stumbles through the doorway of both yours and his home in the middle of the night, searching for your familiar presence. and when he opens the bedroom door, his gaze falling on you in the middle of it all, he welcomes the sight of you sleeping in between the sheets of his blanket, figure curling around his soft pillow you claimed will help you sleep well when he's not around.

the smallest of smiles graced his lips and for the first time since his mission started, his body was able to relax, his shoulders sagging down with the weight of his tiredness as the tension leaves. walking over to you, he gently positions himself on the side of the bed, eyes never once straying away from your form. his hand reaches out to lightly cup your cheek before he presses a light kiss to your forehead.

"mm...aven?"

the feather touch made you stir from your sleep, despite aventurine trying his best to not wake you up. a quiet chuckle left his lips at your (very adorable, might he add) display, not able to hold back from giving you another kiss to your cheek.

"yes, my love. i'm back. shall we rest together now?"

DR. RATIO WHO. . .

tends to express his love for you in a rather roundabout manner. somehow, his upfront attitude that most are familiar with disappears when it comes to any little thing that concerns you.

it was glaringly obvious, you think, with the way he lends his assistance whenever you struggle with your work under the guise of it being 'unpleasant to see a capable scholar floundering about, no less his own partner'. it might sound a bit harsh to others, but you knew of his affection, with the way his features would always soften whenever he spoke those words to you. besides, him offering to aid you is already enough of an indication of his endearment.

though sometimes, there are moments where he would instead let his actions speak for him his thoughts.

the grandfather clock's ticking resounded within ratio's office, the two of you bathing in each other's company as you worked on your own set of papers while he busies himself with another thesis of his. this isn't a rare sight; rather, it was a routine that you kept up with him, often ending the day by each other's side while trying to finish the remaining tasks.

it was during these times that ratio lets his gaze travel to you, who usually remained absorbed in your work. it was no different this time, his eyes catching sight of you being deeply concentrated in solving the particular problem you were stuck on.

ratio rarely gets distracted from his tasks, but as you sit there across from him, he could only let his mind run rampant with thoughts of you and only you. of how endearing it is to see you frown in frustration, lips raw from how many times you bit it as you struggle to solve the damn problem.

observing how the stack of papers on your side of the desk still remained tall, ratio sets aside his finished papers before silently taking half of your paper stack, which didn't go unnoticed by you.

"what are you doing?" you rose a brow, seeing how he had already started to scribble along the surface of your papers.

"what do you think i'm doing?" he replied without missing a beat, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

the sight of your confused expression nearly made him chuckle but he held it back, not wanting to let his thoughts show.

"well..." you drawled out, a small smile building itself on your lips when you catch on what he's doing. "i think you're helping me. isn't that right, dr ratio?"

the use of his formal title made him huff slightly, preferring you to call him only by his name. yet as his eyes flitted over to you, seeing your fond gaze as you leaned back against the chair, ratio could only return your teasing words with his own.

"seeing as to how you're struggling to complete your tasks, it seems that you need a helping hand lest you remain here all night long," he refuted, lips quirking up. "though i would not mind doing so with you."

JING YUAN WHO. . .

lives for the idle touches and fleeting gazes whenever you pass him by during work hours. known for his lackadaisical nature when it comes to his duties as a general, there was also another part of him that is often talked about; that is his utter admiration for you. hence the moment those conversing with him for official duties notice you walk into the room, they have already prepared themselves for what is to come next.

"yes, general. from the patrol guards' inspection, it was deduced that..."

the guard's voice trailed off in the middle of his daily report to jing yuan when he noticed you entering the general's personal office, gathering both his and jing yuan's attention. almost instantly, he can see jing yuan's slumped figure straighten, eyes brighter than a moment ago when he was listening to him recalling the day's events. knowing there is nothing that can pull away the general's focus once it settled on you, the guard gave him his goodbyes and left promptly at jing yuan's dismissive nod.

you rose a brow at the exchange, not able to even voice out your questions about it when his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you close to his side of the table. lifting your palm close to his face, jing yuan begins to pepper light kisses all over the skin, reveling in your warmth.

"what's this about? so clingy," you teased, though such clinginess was not out of the ordinary.

you knew that if he could, he would stick by your side throughout the entire day.

"is it wrong for me to shower my lovely partner with affection?" his lips quirked up at the sound of your voice, head tilting back to look at your face.

"of course not," you returned his grin with one of your own, now tugging on his hand instead. "well, i was wondering if my lovely partner would want to relax with me in the garden today? it's nearing lunch time anyways."

"anything you desire, my dear."

as much as he loves to spend his free time (or official hours) laying around under the tree's shade, letting the sun shine down on his face, nothing beats the comfort that embraces his entire being when his head is on your lap and he's basking in your warmth instead.

DAN HENG WHO. . .

adores you silently, quietly, with small actions and soft touches; making your coffee in the mornings just the way you like it, covering you with his comfort blanket each time you fall asleep when digging through the archives with him, offering his aid when you're swamped with too many work on the astral express.

for those without a keen eye, perhaps he may come off as a passionless lover, but when you look closely, you notice the way his eyes light up the moment he catches you across the room, and the delicate hold he has on your hand as you walk through the crowded streets. and with every little thing that he does with love behind them, you can only take them with an open heart and a fond smile, knowing that they were only for you to understand and know.

but there are times when his love for you grabs him by the chokehold, and all he could do was profess his affection for you in the most random of manner.

it was silent aboard the astral express, march and the rest of the members currently sleeping in their own rooms. you however, was not in your own room.

curled up beside dan heng, in your hands was a thick book filled with various kinds of information relevant to your upcoming mission to a new planet. the pages were the thickest you had ever seen, and you were barely halfway through the content when your eyes started to droop heavily with sleep.

"you should go ahead and rest," dan heng's voice woke you up from the nth time you had dozed off, and immediately you shook your head, trying to will away the tiredness.

"nooo, i still have a lot to go through," your words almost sounded like a whine with how you drawled them out, hands rubbing your eyes.

"there's still enough time for you to finish it. your mission is in the next few days right?"

"yeah, but i doubt that i can finish this much in a short amount of time," you pushed the book into his sight, and he could only chuckle at your actions.

"it's fine. you'll finish it," dan heng sighed softly, flicking your forehead gently. "so stop being stubborn and just sleep. i can already see the dark circles forming under your pretty eyes."

ignoring how his sudden compliment made your cheeks burn, you took his advice and closed the book, setting it to the corner before snuggling into dan heng's side, sighing at the warmth.

it was funny how light his heart felt at the sight, the endearment almost consuming him whole. if this is what it feels like to love another, to the point that he was able to suffocate within it, then dan heng thought that perhaps he would willingly die loving you. the idea of it was overwhelming and taken in by the way your figure wrapped around him so comfortably, his lips moved on their own.

"i love you."

the atmosphere stills with his sudden confession, the words hanging in the air. your head had whipped up to look at him, confusion swirling in your eyes before quiet giggles left you when you notice the perplexed expression on his face.

"why do you look so confused?" your voice shook with amusement, loving the way his gaze avert yours, cheeks flushing a deep red. "you've said it many times before, didn't you?"

"of course," dan heng coughed, trying to will away the slight embarassment he feels at suddenly proclaiming his love.

it wasn't that he hate it, that is the act of speaking such words to you. it was the thought of being vulnerable, an unfamiliar action for him who has had to steel his heart and harden his resolve with the life he had lived so far. to speak of his love as easily as he did loving you, it was difficult; which is why he would rather shower you in it, with all the things that he does.

but then he looks at you now, eyes glinting in the light with lips curled up into that pretty smile he loves seeing from just his words and he thinks that perhaps it isn't so hard for him to profess his love to you every now and again as he did moments ago.

"...you still haven't say it back."

"yes, yes. i love you too."

a/n: i think i got carried away with ratio and dan heng...also! might make a part two of this with other characters

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #jing yuan x reader #dan heng x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #rinnie writes ✩彡

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catboybiologist · 1 month ago

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I'm 3.5 months in progesterone. Did it make my boobs grow? Let's look at some data!

So. This data has problems, of course. I've added disclaimers at the bottom. This isn't science, this is personal curiosity.

But anyways.

My HRT progress has been in three distinct stages:

1, sublingual pills, with on and off spiro. Suppressed T, E struggling to get up. Month 0-7

2, Injections, no progesterone. E goes to appropriate levels very quickly and fluctuates within cis female ranges. Month 7-13.

3, all that plus progesterone. Month 13-16 (current).

For the purposes of simplicity, lets look at breast growth only.

Let's take a look at some of those sublingual numbers:

All in freedom units, bc I hate myself.

I mean hey, not bad! There was absolutely some growth and breast bud formation as well. I pretty clearly got to tanner 2 here. But there's an obvious, clear plateau in growth. We can see it graphically as well:

Ignore the blue line, that's different data (waist:hip)

So what broke the plateau? Well.

The blue measurements are taken when I'm on injections and good levels, and the green one is as well (it was my progesterone start date). Apologies for the data jumping around, there were gaps. Also worth noting that I was ~20 pounds lighter on that final measurement.

So after plateauing with sublingual, my E around 100, the only thing that broke through that barrier was dropping spiro, switching to injections, and keeping my E at 200-400.

It is at this point I added progesterone (data in green).

holy FUCK

I genuinely would not have believed it myself if I didn't have pictures, as well as measuring myself now, and also y'know. Lived all of this.

Lets see that graph, shall we?

You can so clearly see the three stages here. The sublingual plateau, the injection bump upwards, and the progesterone fucking moon rocket. The gap in data is when I was backpacking- on injections, no prog. I think the drop in my W:H is also because of the weight I was losing.

Also yes, linear regression is kinda stupid here. I was just curious.

Anyways. I think I might be plateauing again, just based on how my breasts have felt a little less sensitive recently, which is also what happened on my sublingual plateau. But its absolutely wild to see what progesterone (probably) did in such a short time.

So in conclusion:

Yes. Absolutely. And so did injections, and proper levels.

When I encourage people to take an active role in their transition, this is what I mean. Keep track of your levels. If you're plateauing, think about what might be happening. Make sure to coordinate closely with your doctor. Amazing things can happen because of it.

Disclaimers and admissions of data sloppiness below:

This data is sloppy, and rounded to the nearest half inch most of the time. I've also fudged it based on what I reasonably thought was error in retrospect- eg, at one point I thought my underbust had shrunk a tiny bit due to variation in fat and coastal cartilage, but it's all just flickering between 35.5 and 36", so I just put it all at 36 bc that's likely more accurate.

The measurements don't really cleanly correspond to clothing measurements- I've been doing it wrong since the beginning, and kept doing it wrong for consistency. don't infer my cup size based on this lol. This is for internal comparison and trends.

The rounding also makes it more susceptible to "jumping", and there's several instances where a rounded down data point to a rounded up data point makes a more dramatic leap than it would in practice.

And of course, I'm measuring myself, this is one data set, yadda yadda. It's gonna be sloppy.

But yeah. The trends are clear enough that I hope they can be taken as trends at least, even if they're not exact numbers.

#trans #transgender #transfemme #trans woman #mtf hrt #hrt #trans timeline #trans data

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vanesycho · 4 months ago

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I really had a hard time finding an idea ;( I actually just wanted to write jay smut lol

f!reader x tutor!jay

Warning:Smut, fingering, dirty talk

wc:1,1k

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"I'm Jay, nice to meet you." You took the man's hand and shook it, offering a slight smile. "Nice to meet you. Y/n." Jay stepped into your house and took a look around, he followed you as you headed towards your room.

Your university exam was coming up and you clearly needed help. That's why you were so glad you found Jay, a private tutor on the social media. Wearing a white shirt and rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, he gently pushed his fallen glasses and sat on a chair. "Shall we start without wasting any time?"

──────────────────────

Half an hour had passed, you had almost grasped most of the topic, but you couldn't get past the part where you were stuck. Jay stopped helping you. 'We're not continuing until you do, you have to pass here.' you sighed in annoyance, you had called him for help and this was how you were being treated.He watched as you brought the tip of the pen to your mouth and bit it nervously, shifting his hips on chair and moving into a more comfortable position, crossing his arms and continuing to examine you.

You were sitting with your upper body bent over the table, his eyes drifting towards your prominent hips, bit his lower lip involuntarily. When he heard your groan in exasperation, he grinned and approached you. "How about I make it easy for you?" You turned to him. “How?” He pulled back and leaned back, nodding towards his lap. "Come and let me show you." You looked at him for a while, was he serious or was he making fun of you? Your eyes fell on his lap, his cock that was obvious even through the pants he was wearing made you swallow hard, you stood up and sat on his lap with your back to him. He grabbed you by the waist and made you sit up properly, you held your breath for a moment, one of his hands caressed your leg while the other hand took the pen. "Don't worry, this will help you learn faster."

Oh you had no doubt about it, you looked at the question but it seemed impossible to focus with his breath on your neck. His hand started to move in your thigh, you took a deep breath. “Jay- I think that’s enough for today." You squeezed your legs together as he hummed into your ear with his deep voice, grinning as his hand squeezed between your legs. "Oh, how sweet, do you want to end the lesson so quickly? We still have half an hour left." His fingers went to your pussy, he started caressing you over your clothes, he continued talking as if he never did this and it was normal "What should we do with the remaining half hour?"

Jay grabbed your knees and spread your legs while you were still on his lap, giving him easier access to your pussy. This time his hand reached your clit through your shorts. "W-wait." He raised his eyebrows slightly in question. “Wait?” You pressed your lips together to keep from making any noise as his finger slowly circled your clit. "A slut who tries to hold herself back, but you're all wet under my fingers. Are you sure you want me to stop?" When he inserted a finger into your pussy you couldn't hold yourself back anymore and let out a moan. "Jay- fuck." He smiled slightly at your reaction, talking to himself as he slowly pushed it in and out. "I thought so too."

You looked at him as he took his finger out. "Take off your pants, princess." You stood up without hesitation, he watched you as you took off your pants, felt embarrassed when he examined your body from head to toe, you settled back into his lap. This time your legs were more comfortably spread apart, one of Jay's hands went to your breast and started caressing it, while he continued to take care of your pussy. He pointed two fingers towards your mouth, "Open your mouth darling." Slightly opened, he put two fingers in your mouth without waiting, your tongue moved between his fingers and wet them thoroughly, he groaned deeply while watching this "Fuck, I bet you'd take my dick perfectly in your mouth." You whined as his fingers went deeper into your mouth, he chuckled at how cute you looked even in pain, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and guided them to your pussy.

Jay inserted two fingers without waiting, you moaned in pain at first, he swallowed hard when he felt the tightness of your pussy on his fingers. "So fucking tight and warm, you can barely take my fingers. If I put my dick in you and fucked you until I destroyed you, I bet you wouldn't even be able to stand it, am i right darling?" His fingers were moving quickly inside your pussy without getting used to you at all, the wetness was so intense that it was flowing from Jay's fingers.

"Please...I can't take it.." You couldn't even form a proper sentence, your eyes were filled with pain and pleasure, his large and veiny hands were wrapped around your body, his fingers were moving non-stop.

"You can't take? Of course you can take it, princess. Look how nicely you wrap my fingers with your pretty little pussy." Your breathing was irregular, he didn’t stop as your moans turned into screams, his fingers continued to destroy you. “Please..I- I’m so close, please..." he hummed and started to kiss your neck "Cum on my fingers baby, show me how much mess you can make." It didn't take long for you to cum after that, you came on his fingers as you let out one last tearful moan, Jay watched how the liquid went through his fingers. "Ah, good job baby."

You both looked at your phone when your alarm went off, indicating that your 'class' time was over. You stood up, put on your pants and tried to pull yourself together, Jay watched you with his eyes fixed on you, you glanced at the test books on the table "So...Will there be another lesson?" He approached you and leaned in. "Of course, I can't miss the opportunity to fuck this beautiful tight pussy." He placed a kiss on the corner of your lips and spoke one last time before leaving your room. "And you'd better get ready for the next lesson, if I see that you still can't do the same subject, good things won't happen to you."

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #jay imagines #enhypen jay #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jay smut #jay smut #enhypen reactions #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jay x you

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immortalmrwavell · 29 days ago

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Rejuvenation

(Original story posted May 19th 2022) This story has been Updated!

This is a sequel to Taking Back Youth! Make sure to read it first!

“What to do… What to do” Mr Wavell muttered to himself as he floated around town, looking down at all the potential test subjects. A Lot of the time he liked to pick a man (usually a gay one) out of the crowd and just follow them around for awhile, learning a bit about their life as a simple observer before making his move. Though as his gaze scanned across the people, he noticed one man in particular that stood out. Not because of his looks or what he was wearing but rather because his soul and body didn’t match?!

Curiously Wavell floated over to the man as he walked through the street with a confident smirk. He was a tall, relatively broad man. Handsome features with a short beard and ginger hair. A hot piece of meat for sure but how the hell did he acquire this body? Wavell couldn’t sense any magic emanating from the man’s soul meaning he couldn't be a warlock himself. He looked deeper to see if he could sense the residual magic of another witch or warlock who may have done it. There was something but it didn’t seem to belong to another being. It was natural magic. Which could only mean he used some sort of magic item or spell to acquire the hunky body this man now possessed. Interesting.

Of course Wavell could’ve just read the man’s mind to find out everything he needed to know. Most of the time he would. But he couldn’t help but feel that took the fun out of figuring things out for himself sometimes. Sort of like looking up spoilers for an interesting TV show. But that said he wasn’t about to float around for days trying to figure out where this man’s soul had originally come from. So Wavell placed an invisible hand on the oblivious man’s shoulder and focused.

“Now. Let’s see what kind of body you gave up for this one shall we?”

The ginger stud felt a shiver across his body as Wavell used the soul within to find a link back to its original body. Within seconds he sensed the matching signature not far from here. After that he didn’t waste any time, teleporting away towards the signature and leaving the youthful hunk completely unaware of what had just happened.

———

Upon arrival, Wavell found himself in a small apartment a few blocks away. There was an old man who looked to be in his early 60’s sitting with his head down on a desk, surrounded by masses of empty beer bottles. It was a sad sight in all honesty. This guy had been in the prime of his life before it’d all been stripped away from him.

“Tell me. How exactly did you end up in that body?” Wavell spoke, allowing his form to become visible and his voice heard.

“HOLY FUCK! HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE!?” Evan screamed as he whipped around to see Wavell standing rather nonchalant behind him. Yet Wavell didn’t answer him. At first Evan was afraid. Terrified even by the man. But then a wave of calmness washed over him. He couldn’t explain why but it did. As though there was no need to fear the handsome suited man before him. “Wait… w-what did you say?” Evan asked, his voice still a little shaky.

“I asked how you ended up with that body.” Wavell repeated. “I found the man who was piloting your real one so I used him to find you.” He revealed as if it were somehow obvious.

Evan quizzed the strange man on how he even knew about that. Mr Wavell responded by informing Evan of his own powerful magic abilities. To prove such, the Warlock used his power to rid the apartment of all its mess. With a simple wave of his hand, beer bottles were gone, clothes were clean and folded, bed sheets were made and so on. Evan was completely dumbfounded but at least now he knew this guy was for real.

“It happened about a week ago… I was getting drunk at a bar after a bad breakup when this old dude started hitting on me. I accepted him for god knows what reason and the next thing I knew I was absolutely smashed out of my mind and fucking this dude in his apartment. After we fucked I blacked out and when I woke up, he’d stolen my body…”

“Do you know how exactly he was able to do it?” Wavell questioned.

Evan thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. He just said something about a ritual I think. Also that swapping sexual fluids was the last component?”

“A ritual huh? He must’ve used some sort of magical item given to him to enact it. I wonder if Gilgamesh had something to do with that…” Wavell pondered while stroking a hand through his beard.

“Gilga-who now?”

“He’s a friend of mine with similar interests. Not that it matters to you.” Wavell gave a small smile. “Anyways I’m off. I was just curious about your situation. That’s all.” With that Wavell floated up into the air once again. He was about to teleport away when the flabby old man grabbed his leg. The warlock looked down as Evan began begging him to stay. Pleading with him to use his magic somehow to fix this and give him back his old body.

With a sigh, the warlock lowered himself down to the floor once more. “Look, Evan is it? Swapping souls, changing bodies, shifting minds. It’s what I live for. So why would I use my magic to correct something that I would've happily done myself in the first place?”

Evan’s eyes sunk as he looked back down at the aged, chubby body that’d been forced upon him. The last glimmer of hope he’d gained slowly fading as he sat himself back down on the bed. Mr Wavell was about to take his leave but as he glanced at Evan again, he couldn’t help but feel some sort of pity for the man.

Rolling his eyes he said to the man “Fine. I’ll help you out… but I’m not going to put you back in your old body.” Wavell said as his shoes touched the floor once again. Evan was confused, proceeding to ask how it’d be helping if not giving back his former body. Wavell was quick to respond. “Well from what I can tell, your soul is about 27 years old, correct? In that case how about I regress your current body to match that.”

Evan was fast to agree, eager to take anything he could get. As such, the warlock got Evan to stand towards the centre of the room. With a wave of his finger, Wavell conjured up a full body mirror out of thin air, allowing Evan to see his reflection. It was a sad sight which only got sadder when the handsome stranger waved his finger again to get rid of the old man’s clothes.

“Just so you can have a good view of this next part…” Wavell whispered while placing his hands on Evan’s shoulders. His palms began to emit a warm violet glow that was absorbed into Evan’s body, filling him with a strange sensation. A pulsing heat that surged its way across his frame and forced its way into every part of his being. It was as though he were being embraced by a warm aura of pure energy. But that was only the beginning.

It took a few seconds for him to notice but, as he stared into the mirror, Evan saw how the grey hairs on his head were slowly regaining their colour while his wrinkles began to fade. The fat across his body started melting away, loose skin getting tighter again while his body hair darkened and his skin became more tanned. Evan’s receding hairline started fixing itself, pulling forwards as his hair grew thicker and healthier, now completely dark without a trace of gray. The mustache on his upper lip became less pronounced, fading into a full face of stubble while his aged eyes regained a youthful glow. Lean muscle began to grow and define itself in places where fat had disappeared, restoring a strong and tight physique to his body.

“How are you feeling so far.” Wavell murmured, wrapping an arm around Evan before grasping his member. “Does the heat of rejuvenation feel good?” He added. Evan could only groan in response as his dick was flooded with newfound youth, growing hard as a rock at Wavell’s gentle touch. His body continued to regress back through its 30’s. Skin looking younger, hair looking thicker, testosterone increasing. His cock bucked with excitement as his balls began to churn, feeling so sensitive as Wavell continued to caress him gently. Then at last the heat began to subside as Evan reached his late 20’s once again. The same age his old body had been before it was stolen.

“I-I can’t… believe it.” Looking into the mirror, Evan could tell this was still Carl’s body but now… he looked like he could be a Men’s Fitness Model!

“Mhmm, this body was quite the looker in its younger days it seems. Perhaps not as muscular as your old body but certainly a few inches taller and I don’t doubt you’ll grow into it some more.” Wavell’s breath was hot against Evan’s ear, his beard brushing lightly against the back of the now youthful man’s neck. “Unless you want me to grow it for you.” He leaned in, kissing Evan’s neck while squeezing that excited cock a little.

“R-really?!” Evan pondered those words for a moment. Was Mr Wavell really offering to just hulk out his body right here and now? Evan had no doubt it was within the warlocks power after what’d just transpired but… he declined to Wavell’s surprise. “As fucking amazing as that sounds, I think I want to do it myself. If I’m gonna be bigger than the body that asshole stole from me then I want it to be thanks to my own hard work.” He stated confidently as he spun himself around a couple times, inspecting all his newly invigorated assets.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be your entire body. Perhaps just one or two little things you want to improve? Things that you may not be able to change very much naturally?” Wavell tempted, making circles with a finger as it glowed purple.

Evan thought hard for a moment while checking himself out from multiple angles. He had to admit, one of the things he was missing the most from his previous body had to be his former bubble butt. Just the thought that Carl was now flaunting that ass around town and getting lord knows how much dick was pissing him off. Speaking of dick, his current one seemed around average at what looked to be about 6 inches yet his old one was certainly over 7 inches at least. He thought it over for a moment but soon decided to ask if he could get improvements in both areas.

“Oh that’ll be no problem whatsoever.” The warlock smiled kindly. “But how about we make it just a tad more interesting.” Wavell stepped around in front of Evan, having to look up slightly at the man before getting down onto his knees and taking Evan’s already excited cock in his mouth. Evan was shocked but couldn’t bring himself to fight against Wavell’s bearded lips.

Murmurs of satisfaction slipped from Evan’s mouth as Wavell worked his tongue around the shaft like a pro. It felt odd though, like the heat of magic that’d embraced his body earlier now emanating from inside Wavell’s mouth and wrapping around his cock. After that Evan felt what he could only explain as a second erection. Almost as if his cock had somehow only been at half mast before but was now growing even further! Veins bulged across his appendage as it engorged. Wavell continued to bob his head generously, gradually having to open his mouth wider as the cock inside he was making love too thickened. Wavell grabbed hold of Evan’s balls in the process, massaging them as he felt the leaking member slowly push itself further down his throat. Evan grunted, feeling his balls pull up slightly before dropping back down with a bit more heft than before. This repeated a couple of times with his balls getting heavier each time until he had a nice fat pair of balls that were teeming with cum and testosterone. After that, all Wavell had to do was go deep one last time, swallowing the entire cock and that was enough to send Evan over the edge. Warm nectar came flowing out, coating the inside of Wavell’s throat white with man seed before swallowing every drop hungrily.

After taking a moment to savour the taste, Wavell pulls himself away from Evan’s crotch. An audible pop could be heard as his lips released the wet member to swing down between Evan’s legs with a new heftier weight to it. Looking down Evan could see the clear difference in size. It was longer and thicker than his old dick ever was! Most notably was the fat mushroom head it now adorned, still dripping with cum. It had to be at least 9 inches! Probably a little more! Not to mention the heavy balls he was swinging now. It almost didn’t seem real.

“Woah! I can’t believe how huge it is now! Fuuuuck…” Evan gripped his new and improved manhood. The length was amazing, sure but god did the girth feel phenomenal. Not being able to wrap his hand fully around his cock was an almost euphoric experience. It made him feel superior in a strange way. Though that could’ve just been all extra testosterone talking.

Wavell chuckled as he pulled himself back up. “Now… time for that ass of yours.” Smirking as he pulled Evan towards the bed, pushing him down onto the sheets. Evan laid down on his stomach, his ass served up and ready to be bred. Wavell kicked off his shoes while unzipping his pants, soon pulling out his own monster cock. He pumped a little for a moment as he pressed a finger inside Evan’s hole. Yup, that was gonna be far too tight for his cock but it certainly wasn’t something a little magic couldn’t fix. Just then Evan felt a shiver pulse through his body as his hole suddenly loosened and relaxed. “Perfect.”

The neighbours could only wonder what the hell was happening in that apartment. Through the thin walls they could onlh hear constant echoes of deep grunting and groaning mixed with sounds of a creaking bed. But how could Evan not groan when he felt Mr Wavell’s fat rod slide inside him. Even after having his hole loosened, Evan still felt himself being stretched slightly while Wavell pressed his entire length inside.

After that initial penetration, the warlock began to work up a gentle pace. Pump after pump filling Evan up as he started to feel that warm magical sensation one last time spreading throughout his backside. Magical violet energy pulsed from Wavell’s dick like a constant orgasm, slowly but surely causing Evan’s ass to inflate. Both cheeks bubbling up with fat and muscle that began to jiggle with every thrust. Seeing that only made Wavell hungrier, pounding in with more and more intensity. When the growth subsided, Evan was left with a juicy bubble butt that any gay man would die for. To have and to fuck.

Of course just because the change was complete didn’t mean they were gonna stop. Ooohh no. They were both having way too much fun. Wavell continued to pound down into Evan for a good while first before they repositioned themselves. Wavell was soon laid on his back while Evan bounced on his dick as best he could. Obviously Evan couldn’t see the change that’d been made to his ass but he could most certainly feel it. All that extra padding rippled every time his ass smacked down against Wavell’s crotch. He was loving it to say the least. Not to mention his new, fatter dick jumping up and down with every bounce. It was certainly a sight to behold for both men.

They must’ve been making a ton of noise because a couple of position switches later they heard a knock at the door followed by a voice on the other side angrily telling them to quiet down. The pair only laughed at this of course, barely even stopping before getting back into rhythm. If anything, Evan made an effort to moan even louder simply to piss them off even more.

After a good while longer however, The Great Mr Wavell was finally hitting his high. By this point they were doing doggy style with Wavell speeding up his thrusts, his full balls smacking against Evan’s round jiggly ass. Evan knew exactly what was coming as he heard Wavell let out a deep groan swiftly followed by an intense pulsing inside his welcoming hole. Next thing Evan knew, the flood gates had opened and Wavell was pumping load after load inside him. Thick, sticky cum drenching his insides and even spilling out due to the sheer quantity.

Wavell must’ve stayed on top of Evan for a good five or ten minutes with his cock lodged inside the seeded hole. Sighs of relief could be heard however when Wavell finally decided to pull himself out, taking a moment to catch his breath before hopping off the bed. Evan on the other hand needed an extra couple of minutes before gathering up the strength to stand after that onslaught. But he was determined to get one last look in the mirror at his most recent change. And boy was he impressed by Wavell’s work.

“Ooohh yeah… I’m gonna rip half the pants I own now.” Evan grinned, looking over his shoulder at his reflection as he placed his hands beneath each of his thick cheeks and jiggled them. “Definitely gonna have to buy myself a new wardrobe.” Masses of dudes were gonna be drooling over his ass now! He played with his huge ass for a bit longer until he eventually fell back onto the bed again out of soreness. Wavell tucked his cock away into his pants. Of course he knew he could rid Evan of the pain from being stretched but he loved leaving the men he’d bred with a sore ass for a day or two.

“So, before I leave, I’m curious about something.” Wavell began while fixing his clothes. “What are you going to do about the man who stole your original flesh? I believe you said his name was Carl. Though he’s probably going by ‘Evan’ now.” He shrugged while grabbing his dress shoes.

Evan had to think for a moment. Before today he wasn’t sure if he’d have ever wanted to see his old self again unless it was to swap back somehow. The thought of seeing everything he once had piloted by another man seemed too painful for him. Having to watch that body snatcher flaunt that young hunky body he used to own. Now though? Things were very different.

“I’m not sure right yet. I’m still pissed at him for using me when I was at such a low point just to steal my life and body. Until you came along I’ve been nothing but miserable. I should hate him but… thinking about my original body is making my dick twitch…” Thoughts about Evan’s original ginger stud of a body swirled through his mind. His old cock and ass… god he’d want a chance to touch those again. Maybe he’d even get the chance to fuck himself!

Wavell laughed. “Well I guess I’ll have to keep an eye on you and check in every once in a while. Just to see how you’re getting on, you know? In the meantime I’ve made a minor adjustment to reality so all of Carl’s identification fits your new look. Nobody should suspect a thing.” Wavell tapped his shoes on the floor to make sure they were on properly before floating up into the air. “Enjoy your new life.”

Evan turned to thank the man for all he’s done but when he did, Wavell was already gone. Almost as if he were never there to begin with. Despite that, Evan knew he was still being watched.

“Thank you Mr Wavell.”

#male transformation #male muscle growth #male tf #mr wavell #old to young adult #age regression #identity theft #male body theft #magic #cock growth #ass growth

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hsunrry · 3 months ago

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perfumes // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,6k

warnings: smut18+, mention of cheating, daddy kink, praise, spanking, unprotected sex, anal play (a little), creampie, cum play (slight), dom!harry

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

christmas. probably your favourite time of the year and since it was getting closer and closer, Harry was slowly collecting presents for you. “i’m back!” he shouted from hallway when he stepped into the house. you immediately went to greet him.

“hey babe, i missed y-“ you started, but when you hugged him your stomach dropped. he was all in other woman’s perfume. he tried to kiss you, but you moved away.

“honey, what’s wrong?” he asked confused.

“where have you been?” you asked, looking up at him. he decided to lie, since he didn’t wanted to ruin the surprise.

“uh, i was just out with the boys, you know, they wanted to do some shopping and stuff.” he tried to keep it cool, since he didn’t want to reveal where he actually was. you could feel your insides twist at his obvious lie. “you seem upset.”

“that’s weird, because i can smell woman’s perfume on you.” you snapped.

“oh, uh, well…” he stuttered, trying to think of an excuse. he hadn’t expected you to notice that, but apparently he was all in different woman’s scents from earlier. “it must have been… the cashier at the store or something.”

“why are you lying? are you cheating on me?” you could feel your hands shaking slightly and your voice trembled when you said that.

“what? no! babe, i’d never cheat on you, you’re the most important person to me!” he tried to comfort you, but he could see tears forming in your eyes. “okay, listen, i was in a perfumery, okay?” he grabbed unopened perfume bottle from his jacket pocket and he placed it at the vanity table that was standing in the hallway. you looked at the bottle and then at him confused. he sighed. “i was trying to find the perfect perfume for you as one of christmas gifts. i just wanted it to be a surprise.” he ran his hand through his hair, looking down at you. “i didn’t meant for you to think that i’m cheating on you or something, i love you baby, i’d never do that.”

“i’m sorry Harry.” you said, walking to the couch in living area and sitting on it. “i trust you, i just… i don’t know i wasn’t thinking.” he sat beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“it’s alright, my love. i get why you get upset. i should’ve just told you where i was instead of trying to keep it as a secret.” he kissed your forehead gently.

“no, you wanted it to be a surprise and i’m just paranoid.” you sigh quietly, snuggling a little more to his side.

“i did, but you have every right to be paranoid sometimes. just remember i’d never cheat on you. you’re my everything.” he held you closer, nuzzling his face into your hair. you nodded. “i’m sorry for worrying you, babe. next time i’ll just tell you it’s a surprise instead of trying to came up with some shitty excuses.” he looked at you, his eyes soft and apologetic. you smiled, going to sit astride his lap. his arms instantly wrapped around your waist, holding you close. “maybe you should be punished for even thinking that i’d even cheat on you, hm?” he went down with his one hand, squeezing your ass.

“maybe.” you bite back a smile. he smirked and leaned to your ear. his lips brushing against it when he spoke.

“then i think i need to remind you who you belong to and that i’d never even think of touching another woman.” he suddenly stood up, lifting you with him effortlessly. he carried you to the bedroom, laying you on the bed. “let’s begin then, shall we?” he took off his shirt, tossing it somewhere on the floor. “take off your clothes, my love.” you quickly did that, his eyes roaming over your naked body appreciatively. “spread your legs for me.” he commanded, starting to unbuckle his belt. he unzipped his pants, taking them off. “now, wrap your arms around your knees and and hold your legs up.” of course, you did it without a word. he pushed his boxers down, freeing his hard cock. he stroked it slowly. “such a good girl, doing as you’re told.” he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your spread legs. he rubbed his tip along your folds teasingly and you shivered slightly at the contact. “you’re so wet for me.” he pushed inside just his tip. “who does this sweet pussy belongs to?”

“you.” you clenched around his tip.

“who?” he looked at you.

“you, daddy.” you corrected yourself.

“that’s right, it belongs to me.” he pushed all the way in, giving you few seconds. “and as my property, you need to be punished for even thinking i could touch someone else like that.” he started thrusting in and out hard and fast, his balls slapping against your ass.

“fuck.” you moaned.

“language, love.” he reprimanded, his voice hoarse with restraint. he increased his pace, his fingers digging into your thighs for leverage. “and no coming until i say so.” you nodded, your head snapping back from intensity of it. “good girl.” he praised, his thrusts deep and punishing. “taking me so well.” he started moving even faster and harder, making your moans louder. he continued to fuck you mercilessly, his cock pounding into your pussy. “look at me, baby. look at me while i fuck you.” he demanded, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. “don’t look away, ever.” you swallowed, looking at him. “now keep your eyes on me and hold that position. i’m going to fuck you like this until you learn your lesson.” he growled, his face twisted in mixture of anger and lust. “can you handle it, my love?” he asked gruffly, his thrusts deep and forceful. “can you take daddy’s punishment?”

“yes.” you managed to gasp between moans.

“good girl.” he praised, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “you’re doing so well, taking daddy’s cock so good.” his pace even faster and harder if possible. “you’ll remember for good that this dick belongs to you, i can fuck only you.” you nodded breathlessly. “that’s right, you’re mine and i’m yours. forever and always.” he groaned possessively. he pulled out. “now on your fours.” he positioned himself behind you, his tip rubbing your swollen entrance. “spread your legs wider, let me see that pretty pussy.” he touched your inner thighs, his eyes fixated on your soaking slit. you looked at him over your shoulder. he returned your gaze, his eyes filled with heat and possession. he slowly pushed inside you, his hands gripping your hips. he started his earlier movement. “that’s it, take my cock, feel me deep inside you.” his hand slid up your back, pushing your upper body down. “keep this position and take what i give you.” his hand went from your hip to your ass, his thumb pressing against your asshole.

“babe-“ you you could feel him spatting on your back entrance and circling it with his thumb to spread it.

“shh, just relax and let daddy take care of you.” he continued thrusting, his length hitting the deepest spot inside you. “you’re going to learn to love having both holes played with.” he pushed his thumb inside, starting to move it in tandem with his thrusts. “that’s it, take it all. my cock in your pussy, my thumb in your ass.” he panted.

“oh my god.” you moaned at sensations. he increased his pace, his breath heavy.

“you’re taking it so well, my love. such a good girl for daddy.” his one hand gripping your hip tight. “and no coming, remember?”

“yes, i remember.” you gasped. his hand slapped your ass hardly.

“so good for me, letting me fill you up like that.” his hand coming down on your bottom again with loud smack.

“Harry i’m-“ you corrected yourself when he spanked you again. “ i’m close daddy, please.” he stopped moving his thumb, focusing on his thrusts.

“not yet, darling.” another spank. “you’ll come when i say you can come, not before.” you nodded. “hold it back, show daddy how well you can obey.” he buried himself to the hilt, circling his hips for few moments. “you’re doing so good, my love.”

“thank you.” you whined. he started moving his thumb again and resuming his hard thrusts inside your cunt.

“taking both so nicely.” his voice low and breathless. “now, you can come. come for me, my sunshine.” you moaned loudly when you finally let go, milking his cock with your juices. he groaned when your pussy clenched around him. “that’s it, fuck yes. come all over my dick.” he panted, thrusting few more times and stilling deep inside you, hot sprouts filling you up. he collapsed on top of you, you both breathing heavy. he kissed your shoulder. “i’m so proud of you.” he caressed your side soothingly. “how are you feeling?”

“good.” you smiled softly. he smiled, nuzzling into your neck.

“i’m glad, baby. you did so well for me.” he slowly pulled out of you, his cum dripping from your used hole. he gathered some on his fingers, bringing them to your lips. “open up, love.” you opened your mouth and he slipped his fingers inside it. you sucked it clean from your mixed release. he smiled at the sight, withdrawing his digits from your mouth and licking them after you. he laid down, pulling you to himself and spooning you. his lips found the nape of your neck, leaving soft kisses there.

“i love you, i’m sorry i even thought that way.” you sigh quietly.

“and i love you. i’m only ever yours. don’t apologise, there’s no one else but you, my love.” he tightened his hold around you.

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princema-k · 2 months ago

Text

THE LIVING MUSEUM: CHAPTER 1

(interactive puzzle at the bottom!)

As luck would have it, the detective had a case that had just been given to her by the Chief Constable Barton (talk about a high order!) I watched as she leafed through the folders on her desk before slipping out a small stack of papers and bringing them over to me. Clearing her throat, Detective Layton ran over the details…

“At approximately 2:00pm, a fire alarm in the Natural History Museum sounded. Around 5 minutes later, visitors in the museum reported that they witnessed several exhibits, and I quote, ‘come to life before their eyes.’ There were visitors who told officials that the suits of armour on display had started to move and raise their weapons, visitors who reported that paintings on the walls started to melt and blink, and visitors who said that the dinosaur skeleton exhibits had opened their mouths and moved their heads. But the most damning of all seemed to be the Tyrannosaurus rex exhibit, who not just moved but assumed a lunging stance with its full body, as well as somehow roared.”

“Right, that’s odd. And?”

“Well, since the officials were only able to question the visitors outside of the museum due to everyone having been evacuated because of the fire alarm, naturally they went inside to check the exhibits themselves.”

“And they found…?”

“Nothing. They did a whole sweep of the area, but they found nothing out of place. All exhibits were in their normal places, the paintings were just fine, and everything was untouched.”

“Wow…”

“I assume the reason that Barton held onto what information they had on it and handed it to me was due to the witnesses. Despite the fact that the Yard found no obvious signs of tampering, everyone swears up and down the walls that the museum had seemingly come to life at that moment.”

“...That is a proper mystery. And these files are all we have on the matter?”

“Well, in a sense, yes. These are all the files we have,” Detective Layton muses as she taps the bottom of the stack on the coffee table. Then, getting up, she drops the stack back in their folder. “...Which is why I was thinking of heading over to the museum myself to do a bit of personal investigation.”

“As expected of the great Professor Layton,” I say cheekily as I stand and follow her to the front door, grabbing my jacket off the hanger in the process. The detective sighs lightly as she places her hat on her head, pulling the brim over her eyes in mock disappointment. “Please, Ms. Altava. It's just Detective.”

Now lifting the brim, she smiles brightly as she grabs her umbrella.

“So, Ms. Altava… let’s go investigate this living museum with our own two eyes, shall we?”

And with that, our adventure into the peculiar museum begi-

“Ah, but before that, I have here the directions to the museum written for me by Barton, and it seems to be a puzzle of some sort. As you’re now my assistant, why don’t you give it a shot? Think of it as a warm-up of things to come.”

…Right. She’s Layton’s daughter, after all. How could I have forgotten? …And are we sure they're not really related by blood…?

PUZZLE 1: Where's The Museum?

Take your time and think about the answer, or Flora (and the puzzle master) will be very disappointed in you...!

A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J (Need a hint?: 1 | 2 | 3)

(thanks to @justkillingthyme for beta reading, and several mutuals for puzzle testing!)

#mak art #mak draws pl #professor layton #rmj au #laytons mystery journey #lmj #professor layton au #flora reinhold #emmy altava #please enjoy this first entry to the Reinhold Mystery Journey!!!#it's been a HELL of a process but here it is. in working order i hope #i may have set the standard too high for myself i fear.#“will the rest of the entries be like this” a hard maybe.#for the investigation bits it'll likely be text with the occasionally drawing #cutscenes are ideally comics. coloured or not im not sure yet #but actual puzzles will be . far and few between i hope.#mainly bc im no akira tago. any puzzle that's challenging and solvable will be Very difficult for me to come up with #im also limited by the tumblr format to only be able to do multiple answer puzzles #that and the fact i need several people to test them. then draw them. then come up with results. then hints. and put them all on tumblr and #the process is just far too demanding .#so please do the puzzle the right way or i'll cry.#thanks again to thyme for beta reading my work <3 ur the best

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springtyme · 10 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 ♡

Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Previous chapter || Main masterlist || ao3 || Next chapter

chapter summary: You and your neighbor share a cigarette, and you have an unexpected chat with his sister... Carmy kind of wants to strangle Richie.

word count: 7.4k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Food. Angst and fluff. Hurt/comfort. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. The beef as found family. Set in season one.

a/n: This chapter was supposed to be about twice as long, but we are gonna wait with the rest till next chapter. this might mean that there will end up being an extra chapter in the end.

"I need some sleep It can't go on like this I tried counting sheep But there's one I always miss"

“I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.”

Oh… Now the pieces start to fall into place - the tattoos, the exhaustion, the haunted look in his eyes that felt so familiar. A mix of sadness and understanding washes over you.

“But uh… Carmy is fine,” he adds, the tiniest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Carmy.” You smile at him before telling him your own name, feeling a little embarrassed you didn’t tell him earlier, and a short silence follows, before you gently clear your throat. “Well, shall we?”

“Yeah.” Carmy responds with a small nod of his head as he follows you down the hallway towards your apartment. The short walk feels oddly awkward and comforting at the same time.

As you step inside, you gesture for Carmy to follow you into the kitchen. You turn on the cabinet lights and motion for him to take a seat or stand wherever he prefers before grabbing a couple of mugs from the cupboard. There is still hot water on the kettle for you to make a new cup of tea.

“You want normal or decaf?” you ask, holding up the coffee canister. Carmen’s tired eyes light up a little at the mention of coffee.

“Normal, please, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, and I have to leave for work in three hours” he lets out a soft, breathy sound, something between a sight and a chuckle, the sound weary but genuine, and a clear touch of gratitude in his voice. You put a filter in the coffee maker and pour the coffee grounds into it, the aroma slowly beginning to fill the air. As the coffee brews, you plop a tea bag into your own mug before pouring in the hot water. You take a moment to glance at him, his tired expression evident as he leans against the counter.

You notice the way his eyes flicker around the room, taking in the small details of your kitchen that must be mirroring his own, before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes meet for a split second before you quickly look down at your steeping tea, feeling how your pulse quickens slightly from getting caught staring.

You clear your throat and decide to break the silence. “So, how does a chef end up starting a kitchen fire at 3 in the morning?” you say in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but you immediately cringe at yourself, it probably wasn’t the most tactful question to ask. You’re not normally this awkward, but you also don’t normally have strangers in your apartment in the middle of the night like this.

“I-ehm… I was actually cooking in my sleep, I woke up to the fire alarm.” He confesses, sounding a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh,” is all you say, not really knowing what else to come up with. You take a moment to process Carmen’s response, trying not to let your surprise show on your face. Cooking in his sleep? That certainly wasn’t a typical explanation for starting a kitchen fire. “I guess sleepwalking and cooking don’t mix well,” you end up replying, feeling a bit silly for stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I suppose not.” his voice laced with exhaustion, and another long stretch of silence unfolds between you. You are just about to open your mouth to say something to break it - what, you don’t even know, but you are saved by the coffee machine beeping, indicating that the coffee is ready. You quickly pour the hot coffee into a mug, happy for the natural interruption of the awkward silence.

“Cream and sugar?” you ask him, smiling politely.

Carmy nods gratefully. “Just a little cream, please.” You carefully pour a dash of cream into the mug, watching as it swirls and mixes with the fragrant dark coffee before placing the mug in front of Carmen. He takes a sip, his tired eyes closing momentarily as he savors the warmth.

“Thank you,” he says softly, the gratitude evident in his voice. You just smile at him. Taking your tea, you lean against the counter on the opposite side of him.

The two of you fall into a now more comfortable silence, the only sound filling the room being the occasional sip of coffee or tea. You cannot help but glance over at him every now and then, taking in the tired lines of his face, the way his eyes seem to hold a thousand untold stories.

After a few moments of sipping your tea in silence, Carmen breaks the silence, pointing at one of the pictures on your fridge. “Is that from Copenhagen?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you look over at the picture. “Yeah, it is. I got a job offer here in Chicago and thought that it might be time to try something new, I moved here six months ago, but before that I lived in Copenhagen. I like it here, and I’m really enjoying my new job, but I do miss it.”

“Yeah, Copenhagen’s really beautiful,” he says, still looking at the picture.

You lean forward, feeling a spark of conversation ignite between you and Carmen. “So, you’ve been?”

“Yeah, I actually lived there for a while, when I worked at Norma.” He says it so casually, but you can’t help but feel a surge of surprise at his casual mention of working at a renowned three-Michelin-star restaurant.

“Wow, that’s really cool,” you say, genuinely impressed. “What was it like?”

Carmy smiles softly, a nostalgic glint in his tired eyes. “It was intense, but also really… rewarding?” he says, his voice trailing off slightly as if lost in memories. “The chefs there pushed me to my limits, I learned so much during my time there, but, yeah, it was definitely hectic...” He pauses, a hint of melancholy in his voice, he seems to be caught in his own thoughts for a moment before he lightly shakes his head and turns his attention back to you. “What about you, what do you work with?”

“I work in theater, I’m a scenographer,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride as you talk about your passion. “I design and create the visual aspects of the stage production, from the sets to the props and the costumes. It’s a lot of work, but I really love it.”

Carmen’s tired eyes light up with interest. “that sounds really cool. It must be amazing to see your designs come to life on stage.”

“It is,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It can be really demanding sometimes, but seeing everything come together during a performance… It’s like the best feeling I know. To know that your hard work is helping give people an experience. I really like that feeling”

He looks at you with a newfound glint in his eyes. You feel a warmth spreading through your chest from the way his eyes sparkle with genuine interest. “I think I know what you mean,” he responds, a sense of understanding passing between you. “It’s like when you create something with your hands and then see the final product, it’s a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.”

“Exactly,” you nod in agreement, feeling a sense of understanding with Carmen in that moment that you haven’t felt in a long time. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, both lost in your own thoughts for a short moment before he breaks the quiet.

“But, I’ll have to admit, I don’t really go to the theater that much,” he says, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Or like, at all.”

You chuckle softly, the conversation now flowing easily between you. “Well, don’t feel bad, most people don’t. And, I’ll also have to admit that I don’t really go to Michelin restaurants that often either… or at all.” This makes Carmy laugh – it’s soft and short lived, but genuine, and your heart sillily skips a beat by the gentle melody of it.

“That’s fair, but I’m not working at Michelin places anymore,” he says, his voice losing a bit of its newfound bravado and his smile falters slightly, a shadow passing over his features. “My brother, Mikey…” Oh… Michael was his brother, you feel a pang of sadness wash over you as you piece together the connection. “He left me his restaurant, It’s an old shithole of a beef spot. I’m trying to get it back on its feet, but it’s been a struggle, you know?”

You can see the weight of his words behind his tired eyes, the burden of responsibility and loss bearing down on him.

“I was in New York… I was the Chef de Cuisine at the Eleven Madison Park, and now I’m back here, trying to revive this place that I can’t even believe is still standing,” Carmen’s voice fades a bit at the end of his sentence, a sense of resignation and disbelief evident in his words. “It’s fucking bullshit.” You can hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, and you feel a surge of empathy for him. “But it also means fucking everything to me,” he adds, his eyes unfocused and tired as he gazes off into the distance before blinking and lightly shaking his head, his pale cheek redding a little.

He looks embarrassed at his little outburst, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his curls in frustration. “Sorry,” he murmurs, the word hanging in the air as he looks down at his coffee mug. You can see the conflicted emotions swirling in his eyes, the weight of his past and present struggles evident in his posture.

“No need to apologize,” you reassure him, and another stretch of silence settles between you, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You don’t really know what else to say, so you don’t say anything, letting the quiet moment linger as you both sip your drinks, the only sound filling the room being the steady hum of the refrigerator.

The atmosphere hangs heavy with the weight of Carmen’s words, and you can sense how he is starting to shut down. So, instead of pushing for more conversation, you decide to take another approach.

“Hey, uhm, can I bum one?” you ask, nodding towards the pack of cigarettes you had watched him put in his pants pocket when you had entered your apartment. You have your own, and you try not to smoke at night, but you make an exception, you crave the comfort of a cigarette and Carmen looks like he does too, and being able to offer you a cigarette might make him feel like he has something to offer and ease the tension.

Carmen’s tired eyes flicker for a second, like he is being pulled out of deep thoughts before looking back at you again.

“Yeah, of course,” he replies, pulling the cigarettes from his pocket and handing you the entire pack. “I would have gone down on the street…” he begins to explain before trailing off.

You shake your head, cutting him off with a smile. “No need, If you’re fine with the fire escape we can go out there,” you offer in a gentle tone.

Carmen’s tired expression softens at your offer, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The two of you make your way to the window, cracking it open to let in some fresh air before climbing out onto the fire escape. The metal stairs creaking slightly with each step as the cool night air greets you as you both settle against the railing, the distant sound of the city humming below you.

You pull out a cigarette and pop it between your lips before handing back the packet to Carmy. He takes one, lighting it with a flick of his lighter, the orange flame illuminating his tired face. He has a scar, you notice, on his right cheek, which you hadn’t noticed before. It looks like an old wound, faded and barely noticeable in the dim light of the night. You can’t help but wonder how he got it, but you are pulled out of your thoughts as he flickers on the lighter again, this time holding it out for you to light your cigarette.

You lean in, the flame dancing before your eyes, casting a warm glow on your face. As you inhale, pulling life into the cigarette, the smoke swirls around you in the night air, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness. “Thanks,” you mumble, as you exhale, letting the smoke escape through your nose as you lean back again.

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the never-quiet ambience of Chicago from the streets below. The night air is cool against your skin, but also somewhat refreshing, and the warmth of the cigarettes and the close proximity of Carmen keeps you feeling cozy and content.

The weight of the conversation from earlier still lingers, but as you gaze out at the city skyline, a sense of peace washes over you. You smoke the entire cigarette in silence before Carmen breaks the quiet. “Did you know Mikey?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, the few memories you have of Michael flooding back to you.

“I don’t know if I knew him. We weren’t close, but we were neighbors for a few months. He was always friendly whenever we crossed paths in the hallway,” you say, watching Carmen closely for any sign of emotion. “I had my couch delivered about a week after I moved in, and despite having ordered it to be brought up to my apartment, the delivery guys just left it down on the street. Michael came down. I think he was on his way to work, and this guy came to pick him up and after asking me what happened, they just picked it up and started carrying it up for me. I tried to stop them, I was so scared, they’d throw their backs out,” you chuckle softly at the memory. “He didn’t have to do that, but he did anyway. I tried to thank them afterwards, venmo them or something, but they just waved it off.”

Carmen listens quietly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the night sky, a flicker of emotion passing through his expression before he clears his throat softly. “Sounds like him,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with memories as he lights another smoke, silently handing the pack over to you.

You take one, grateful for the distraction as you light it and take a long drag, the smoke swirling around you as you exhale. The quiet moment lingers between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can feel Carmen’s grief and exhaustion radiating off of him, the burden of loss and responsibility heavy on his shoulders.

The silence stretches, and you start to worry that your story about the couch wasn’t the right thing to say, that maybe you had overstepped by bringing up memories of his brother. You rack your brain for something else to say, anything to lighten the mood or make him feel better, but you come up empty. Instead, you simply sit in silence, the only sounds being the gentle buzz of the city below and the occasional drag of your cigarettes.

You can sense that Carmen is grappling with his own thoughts, his tired eyes gazing out at the twinkling lights below, lost in his own world. After a while, he breaks the silence, dumping his cigarette butt in the rusty tin can you have standing out here for the purpose.

“I should probably get out of your hair and let you get some rest,” Carmen says, his voice resigned but appreciative.

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. A part of you wants to tell him to stay, but you also understand that he probably needs some time to himself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and he gets up.

The polite, well mannered side of you tells you to get up and follow him to the door, but your intuition tells you to stay. It seems like he needs some space to process his thoughts and feelings, and you don’t want to intrude on that. So, instead, you simply smile at him and nod towards the window. “Thanks for the company, Carmy. And hey, if you ever burn down your kitchen again, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, okay?” you tease, you want to say something deeper, but you hold back, not wanting to push too much.

Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, his tired eyes lighting up with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the coffee and the chat,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives you a small wave before disappearing back into the apartment. A few seconds later you hear the click of the front door closing after him, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

You sit there for a while longer, the cigarette between your fingers slowly burning out. The weight of the night settles around you, the city’s hum a distant lullaby. You take one last drag of your cigarette, scrunching your nose at the light burn of your lips as you realize it had burned down to the filter.

With a sigh you dispose of the butt in the tin can, letting it join the others, before standing, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The night air is crisp against your skin, the silence of the night wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stand there for a little while longer, lost in your thoughts as your tired eyes capture the beauty of the cityscape below you. The events of the evening swirl around in your mind, the unexpected encounter with Carmy. You don’t know if you overstepped any boundaries, if you said the right things, or if you offered enough support. But you hope you did the right thing.

With a final sigh, you step back inside, closing the window behind you and letting the night air dissipate. The apartment, that has felt empty since you moved in, feels even emptier now, and that is when you realize that Carmen had been the first person who you have invited into your home since you moved to Chicago. You can’t help but ponder over that as you head back to the kitchen to clean up and finish your tea. Maybe you should invite some of your coworkers over sometime, or actually start on trying to make some friends here.

You go over to the coffee maker to pour out the leftover coffee in the pot, but you are surprised when you see that it has already been done, and the mug Carmen had used is hanging from the drying rack, along with the other dishes that had been sitting in the sink waiting for you to finally rack up the energy to wash, now cleaned.

Maybe it’s just because you really, really hate washing dishes or maybe it’s the realization that you have been more lonely than you realized, but the sight makes a weird feeling settle in your chest, and it is too much for you to start processing right now, so you simply set down your mug on the counter and turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen and head to bed. Had you stayed in the dark kitchen for just a short while longer, you might have noticed the forgotten phone next to the sink.

You make your way to your bedroom, peeling off your hoodie and sweatpants before sinking into the comfort of your bed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, that you’re not ready to decipher. All you really want to do right now is to let all thoughts and feelings fade away into the peaceful void of sleep. You don’t have work tomorrow, thank god, so you allow yourself to drift off without setting an alarm, letting the warm duvet envelop you as the beating of your heart slowly lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

· · · · ·

Carmen is flipping through the pages of the folder, he’s barely registering the ideas and suggestions she had put together for the restaurant.. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, really doesn’t want to, but all this is a lot and he can’t really deal with a lot right now.

He can feel the beginning of the well-known pounding in his temples, another day, another headache. He wants to be able to fix this place, and he is happy that Sydney wants to help with that, but all he can focus on right now is to get through the day. There is three hours to opening, one of the fucking ballbreaker machines are broken, and he can’t find his fucking phone, he thinks he might have forgotten it at home, he was a bit of a zombie when he left this morning. Last night was something… he’ll probably need 3-5 business days to process, or even better repress it completely from his memory, despite it being difficult.

“On page 27, randomly, there’s actually some pretty good layouts of just that,” Sydney says, clearly trying to sound casual, but her voice betrays a hint of eagerness.

“Page 27?” he asks, feeling overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s mostly graphics,” Syd replies.

He knows Sydney’s right, she is smart and capable, and he is not doubting that she has a bunch of good ideas. She is probably way more qualified to run a business than he is, or ever will be, but he can’t see how any of this is realistic. She is right, they are sleeping on to-go’s, but there is no way they’ll be able to manage that right now.

And, yeah, there is no doubt that they need to make some serious changes, but all Carmen can focus on right now is to keep his head above water. He has issues keeping vendors current, and even scraping enough together to actually pay the staff.

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus voice calls out, interrupting them. Carmen hands the folder back to Sydney before stepping out of the little office to see what’s now going on.

Following Marcus’s voice, Carmy swings the doors open to the front of the house where he finds the baker leaning against the front of the counter, and Richie standing behind it with a woman, probably around his mothers age, who Carmy’s never seen before.

“Yo, what’s going on?” Carmy asks, trying to push aside the headache that is threatening to take over while trying to understand what’s going on with Sydney hot on his heels.

“No. I can handle this myself, cousin. I got this,” Richie tells him, holding his hand up as Carmen steps into the room. “So… You’re not Ron…” Richie says, now addressing the woman.

“Ron’s gone. Gone, gone,” she answers, which isn’t helping Carmen understand the situation in the slightest.

“Ron’s dead?!” Marcus exclaims, leaning a little further over the counter.

“Who is Ron?” Carmy asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.

The woman turns towards Carmen. “My partner Ron Pager. He passed away. I’m running his routes now.”

“Everybody’s dying,” Richie says, annoyed, making a half turn in frustration.

“Nancy Chore, Chicago Board of Health,” the woman introduces herself, offering an explanation to Carmen. “I’m here to inspect the property.”

Of, course… An inspection, why the fuck not?! Just what this day needed…

“Okay, Nancy, hi. I’m Carmen Berzatto,” he extends his hand, introducing himself. “I’m the owner.”

“He’s the owner’s brother actually. He’s also dead,” Richie says, causing a raised eyebrow from the older woman.

“He doesn’t look dead.”

“No, no I’m not dead. My brother is dead.” Carmen clarifies, even though he feels a bit dead right now.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” the woman says with a sympathetic nod.

“I’m sorry for your loss too,” Richie says to the health inspector, not missing a beat as he continues. “Can I see some kind of identification?”

“Yeah,” the woman replies, holding out her very legit looking badge per Richie’s request.

“Interesting,” the taller man says, his arms folded over his chest.

“Is it? What’s interesting about that?” Carmen says, he can’t fucking deal with Richie’s antics right now, he just wants this inspection to be over as soon as possible. Carmy’s been trying to make everyone step up their game in the two weeks he’s been here. He, himself stayed until late last night to deep clean. There shouldn’t be any problems, and if Richie will just behave, everything should be going smoothly… Hopefully.

“It’s an interesting logo on her badge,” Richie says defensively.

Carmy decides to ignore him, turning his attention to the inspector. “Nancy, if you need anything, just find us. Make yourself at home. Okay?” He turns around to go back to the kitchen, he has a lot to do and he doesn’t have time to deal with Richie’s shenanigans right now. “Where’s Tina and Ebra!” he calls out as he makes it back to the kitchen with Sydney following him back again, seemingly not done with telling about her ideas to improve the restaurant.

Carmen had hoped that the interruption would make her forget about it for a while, his head can’t hold any more right now, but he is also mildly curious to hear ideas, and he also doesn’t want to seem like an asshole, it is really nice of her to want to help, so he lets her follow him around as he makes it through the restaurant.

“I also noted on the prog that it’s not necessarily flour that is expensive, but shipping, so we could just have somebody go and pick it up.” Sydney says as they make it back into his office.

“Yeah, Marcus,” Carmen agrees. He can definitely see the logic in that. It’s a good, and actually feasible, idea.

“Okay, sure. Marcus. Great,” she says a little confused.

“No, it can only be Marcus,” Carmy explains.

Sydney makes a face of befuddlement. “Why can it only be Marcus?”

“Sweeps, Tina and Ebra don’t drive,” he clarifies. .

“Uh, well, what about Richie?” she asks questioningly.

“Suspended license.”

“I saw him drive in this morning,” she points out.

Carmy just shrugs, he is not sending a man with a suspended license out driving doing work hours, if Richie wants to risk it on his own time then that’s his business.

Sydney shakes her head lightly, getting back on track. “The point is, it’s one of hundreds of things we can be doing to save costs!”

“Sydney. Sydney. Sydney,” Carmy interrupts her. “Look, I’m sure this is all correct, but it’s a lot. The job you’re describing goes way outside what I can afford to pay a sous, which I can barely afford already. But I hear you. Okay? I have every intention of turning this into an efficient, respectable place of business run by adults…”

He can see that she is about to say something, but before she can get to it she gets interrupted by an outburst from the front of the house. “That’s a fucking ass of shit!” Richie’s voice bellows.

“Eventually…” Carmy sighs, stepping out of the office once again to see what’s happening. “Yo, yo, what’s going on?!” He yells as he pushes through the door to the front again, seeing that most of the staff are already there. A pressing feeling of uneasiness, starting to form in his chest as he steps around the counter to get to where Richie and Ms. Chore is standing, who he had almost forgotten was here.

“Look… It wasn’t dangerous, Ms. Chore…” Richie says defensively, immediately making alarm bells go off in Carmy’s head.

“What’s dangerous?!” Carmy demands to know.

“I discovered a large hole in the tile. Looks like a former gas line next to the stove tops. Not only was it not properly dry walled and caulked, but someone clogged the hole with napkins and proxied over it with some kind of plastic. Grease seeped into the napkins and the proxy became unproxied.” Ms. Chore explains, sounding less than pleased.

“So what does that mean?” Carmy can feel how fury is starting to slowly simmer in his stomach, threatening to soon be brought to a boil.

“A potential cross contaminate. Additionally, no hot water in the hand station.” The older woman explains.

The last part makes both Richie and Syd erupt in protest, their voices overlapping and echoing through the room as they try to explain that the hot water does work, the water just has to run for a little while, which Ms. Chore doesn’t seem to be satisfied with. “Health code states any sink near a prep area needs to deliver instantly hot water to prevent the spread of bacteria.”

Carmen can feel how his headache is now blooming into a full-blown migraine as the chaos unfolds around him. The sound of the voices mixing with the sound of the broken arcade game is starting to feel like an alarm going off in his head. It is like the piercing sound is stabbing through his temples and into his brain. He rubs his forehead, while grabbing the counter with his other hand, trying to ground himself as he tries to push back the throbbing pain. A health code vialation is literally the last fucking thing they need right now.

“I haven’t even delivered the big one yet.” The health inspector continues and Carmen feels how his stomach drops at her words.

“There’s a big one?” Fak says from his seat at the counter.

“And what is the big one?” Carmen asks, breathing through his nose. richie

The woman pulls out a packet of smokes, ‘King Size Sapphire’, Carmen’s eyes immediately looks over at Richie. “Someone left a pack of cigarettes on the stovetop near the burners. Not only very dangerous, but also a potential contaminant.”

“Motherfucker…” Carmy let’s out. The migraine is now pounding behind his eyes.

“You can say that again,” Ms. Chore

“Motherfucker!” Richie echoes, making Carmy’s blood fucking boil .

“Don’t actually say that again, you fucking idiot!” He yells at the taller man, feeling like he could strangle him in this moment.

“Unfortunately, these violations leave me no choice. I award you a C.” Miss Chore holds the cardstock with a giant orange C out to hand over to Carmy, but he doesn’t take it. He can feel the anger and frustration boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. The orange letter on the paper mocking him.

A choir of protests fills the room as the staff tries to defend themselves, but Carmy can hardly hear them over the pounding in his head.

“You know what, I’m going to caulk that shit right now, okay?” Richie states, trying to plead with Ms. Chore.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it. I can’t come back to test for 30 days,” Ms Chore says, not missing a beat.

“It’ll take five minutes, okay?! It’ll take five minutes to caulk.” Richie tries to bargain. “I can caulk! Let me fucking CAULK!”

“There’s no caulk in the house, dude,” Fak chimes, making Richie yell at him to shut up and Ms. Chore hands over the review paper to Carmy before leaving.

Carmy thinks he might actually strangle Richie, his head now not only throbbing with pain but with red hot fury as well.

“You’re bitching me? You wanna run this place?!” Carmen seethes, his voice dripping with anger as he pushes Richie in the chest, his frustration finally boiling over.

“How do you know they’re not your cigarettes?!” Richie pushes back, making Carmy stumble back a step.

“Cause I’m not a fucking dipshit!” Carmy yells, seething with a mix of anger and frustration as he is about to push Richie again, but Sydney steps in between before he gets the chance, trying to keep the two men from each other as they yell at each other. Cursing and yelling fill the room as tensions escalate, the staff trying to intervene and the review paper falls to the floor in the commotion.

“Let’s not do this,” Sydney says, her voice breaking through to Carmy, making him regain his senses.

“All right. All right,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, trying to calm himself down before turning to Richie. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna go to the hardware store, you’re gonna get some joint compound. You’re gonna get some caulk and you’re gonna caulk that shit,” he says, his tone firm like he’s giving instructions to a child, despite him saying it with much more anger than he would ever use toward a kid.

“Okay, well, FYI…” Richie cuts in, as if he’s about to argue, making Carmy wanna punch him. “I’m not your fucking gofer.”

“FYI?! FYI!” Carmen can’t believe he is having this discussion with a grown man. “FYI, you cocked it up, you’re gonna caulk it out!”

“Okay, well, I would love to, but my license is expired, FYI!” Richie retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I saw you drive in this morning,” Sydney points out, making Carmen turn towards her.

“Sydney, you wanna help, you can take him.”

This makes Richie protest. “No. Time out. I’ll Uber. Thank you.”

“Surge rates, fucko!” Carmy reminds him, his voice dripping with annoyance.

“Fine,” Richie says in defeat before looking at Sydney. “But we’re taking my car.”

“I don’t care…” she says, shaking her head.

Carmen is just glad that they’re leaving. Glad Richie’s leaving because he is fucking angry at him, and glad that Sydney is leaving, because it is clear to everyone that she is far too good for this place, and it makes him feel bad and kind of embarrassed that she has to put up with all the bullshit that happens here.

He just needs a break from annoying pseudo-cousins and over-ambitious sous chefs for a little while. Although Sydney is not officially his sous yet, but he is going to hire her – he’d be an idiot not to, she is probably the best this shitty place will ever see, if she still wants to work here after today, that is…

Carmy picks up the fallen review paper from the floor with slightly trembling hands as the giant orange C is staring back at him. The image burns into his mind, a symbol of failure and inadequacy. He knows that this place is shit and that he needs to make changes, but this is a whole new low. His head feels like it is about to explode, the pounding in his temples now so unbearable he almost feels nauseous, the ballbreaker jingle of the broken machine, like nails on a chalkboard, echoing in his tired head.

“Fix that fucking sound. Please fix that fucking sound!” He spits at Fak, half commanding, half pleading.

“I will fix it. Fak always fixes it. Kids come in, break it, and what happens? I fix the balls. Fak fixes the balls.”

“FIX IT!” Carmy just yells. He wonders if it’s actually happened, after all these years in nightmarishly stressful kitchens, two weeks at The Beef is what’s finally driven him completely insane as he goes back through the doors to the kitchen.

Taking a breath and clenching his fists he tries to gather his thoughts. If he changes the plans so that Tina takes over Sydney’s stations while she is gone and he makes family, they shouldn’t get too behind while Sydney and Richie are gone.

“Yo, Tina! I need you to help me out, chef,” he calls out to Tina, trying to regain a sense of control amidst the chaos. “I need you to take over Sydney’s stations while she’s gone. We need to keep things running smoothly, I’ll make family and help out with prep,” Carmen instructs, his voice firm but tinged with the underlying stress and frustration he’s feeling.

“Got it, Jeff,” the shorter woman says, retying the strings of her ‘Mrs. Always Right’ apron.

“Thank you, chef,” Carmy says, really meaning it. He knows she’s having a hard time with all the new changes he has made around the kitchen, and with Sydney coming in and things changing up, but she has been here for a long time and there is a reason for that.

As they start working and tackling the tasks at hand, Carmen feels how his anger slowly disappears, something else inside him taking over.

He has no idea how to manage, let alone fix, a failing business, but he knows how to cook. He knows what he’s doing when he’s in the kitchen and he knows that he can rely on his skills and can get into that magical state where he can shut his brain of for a little while, and just fully concentrates on the task at hand – which in this point of his life probably is the closest he comes to relaxing.

· · · · ·

You are pulled out of your slumber by the ringing of your phone, the shrill sound cutting through the peaceful silence of your bedroom. Groggily, you reach out to the nightstand where your phone is resting, fumbling for it in the darkness before finally grabbing hold of it. But as you squint at the screen to see the caller ID, you see that there is none, it isn’t even your phone that is ringing.

Confusion clouds your mind as you slide out of bed, and it is now clear to you that the sound isn’t coming from your bedroom. You stumble out of the room, trying to locate the source of the ringing, but it stops before you get a chance to pinpoint it.

“What the…” you mumble before the ringing starts once again, realizing that the sound is coming from the kitchen. You feel a sense of unease wash over you as you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of the shrill ringing growing louder with each step. You enter the room and coming into view is the telephone on your kitchen counter. Confusion wells up inside you for a split second, your groggy mind still in a half fogged state of sleep, before the events of last night come back to you. Carmen must have forgotten his phone last night.

You look over at the oven, the digital clock, shocked by how late it is, you can’t remember the last time you woke up this late.

You step over to the sink, looking down at the phone, the caller ID lighting up on the screen saying ‘Sugar’. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer or not. It feels pretty invasive to pick up another person’s phone, someone you don’t really know, and you have no idea who this Sugar is, maybe a girlfriend? In that case you don’t want to intrude on their personal business, and you’re definitely not in the mood to be interrogated by some angry girlfriend.

But it could be important, or maybe it is Carmen calling his own phone to figure out where it’s at. You contemplate what to do, but before you can make a decision the phone stops again, the ringing coming to an abrupt halt.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but after a few seconds the phone lights up again. With a fast beating heart you swipe across the screen before picking it up to your ear, bracing yourself for whatever may come.

“God damn it, Carm!” A female voice crackles through the speaker, frustration and annoyance evident in her tone. “Listen I know-”

“Hello,” you croak out, interrupting the woman, not wanting to eavesdrop on a private conversation. The voice on the other end goes silent for a moment, and you can almost hear the confusion through the phone.

“Uh, hi…” the voice says, the frustration in her tone melting away, being replaced with puzzlement. “Is Carmen there?”

You clear your throat, a little embarrassed by the mix-up. “Uh, no, he isn’t.” You cringe internally at the awkwardness of the situation. “He, uh, left his phone here last night.” And you only cringe even more. “I’m his neighbor, we had some coffee last night.” You quickly add, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward, but you push through.

“Oh..” the woman responds, her voice softening. “I’m Natalie, I’m Carmen’s sister.”

Relief floods through you, feeling a way more at ease now that you know who you’re talking to as you tell her your own name.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Natalie says, genuine remorse in her voice. “I’ve been trying to talk to him for a few days now, and I was starting to worry, but I think he’s just ignoring me.”

You feel a sense of understanding wash over you, having seen the exhaustion and turmoil in Carmen’s eyes the night before, and knowing about what had happened with Michael you can’t help but feel for her. “It’s okay,” you reassure her. “But, yeah, I saw him last night, we had coffee and he must have left his phone here by accident.” You offer, hoping to ease some of Natalie’s worry

“Oh, thank you for letting me know,” she replies, relief evident in her tone. “He can be a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes. I know he’s been dealing with a lot lately, so I appreciate you looking out for him.”

You nod, feeling a sense of connection with Natalie, despite never having met her. “Of course, happy to help out.”

You contemplate whether to offer any more information about your interaction with Carmy, but you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. It’s really none of your business, but you can’t shake off the urge to help somehow.

“Hey, uhm, if you give me the address I can swing by the restaurant and drop off his phone. I know I would be fucked without mine.” It’s not like you have any plans and you would probably not leave your apartment today if you don’t have a reason to. “I can tell Carmen to give you a call when he gets the chance,” you continue, hoping to be of some use and to ease Natalie’s worries.

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Just let me know where to go and I’ll drop it off,” you offer, genuine in your willingness to help out.

“That’s so sweet of you,” Natalie says, her voice softens even further, with a sense of genuine gratitude. She gives you the address to the restaurant, and you jot it down on a post-it note. The call ends with a warm goodbye from both of you.

Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and getting dressed and ready, you’re on your way to the train station, the music in your headphones filling your ears as you step out onto the platform. Luckily you don’t have to wait long before the gray train pulls up, you board and find a spot to stand, not feeling the need to sit. The gentle rock of the train lulling you into a sense of calm, as you let your brain disconnect and enter the weird, cathartic state of introspection that you often seem to get in on public transportation while you watch Chicago pass by in a blur of buildings and colors.

As the train comes to a stop at the station near the restaurant, you step out onto the platform and make your way towards the address Natalie had given you, it’s just a simple eight minute walk and you’re are there a lot quicker than you would have preferred, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you, but you try to push through it, reminding yourself that you are just dropping off a phone and there’s no need to overthink things.

The restaurant is easy to spot, a worn sign hanging above the entrance with the name ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland.’ You take a deep breath before pushing open the door and step inside.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡

@wittyno @eternallyvenus @eddioto

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