#no words would be able to describe what i'm feeling right now

[citrus-moonlight]

Tara, I love this chapter so much!!! The way that you manage to create such a tangible desire between the two of them even though she doesn't even know what he looks like (and as far as she knows hasn't met him yet 😏) is incredible.

Reader being able to have a different type of release first when she blocks her mother's number was so satisfying. I love how she's finally able to let go of that part of her as she realizes that it isn't worth it anymore, that she is worth so much more than someone who didn't and doesn't want her, now that she knows what it's like to have someone who does.

"You smile at your phone. Your eyes are watery, your cheeks are warm, and your lips are lopsided and trembling. You can blame all of that on the wine, but the way your heart is battering against your ribcage? You've got it bad for some words on a screen, a hand, a pair of shoes, and a ghost."

I love how gone she already is, how everything is building so intensely and she doesn't even know what he looks like yet. And then when she finally lets herself go to the thought of him, and the realization that the relief barely lasts because now the floodgates are open and she only wants more?? LORD. The tension is so good, and I love how delicious it feels as he metes out little details in pictures and words and how they're all so precious to her as she tries to form a picture in her head to focus her desire on (and I am forever screaming at "I'm not going to describe my cock to you" 😂).

"Well then. I'll keep that in mind. I really liked the maroon silk one, personally. I bet it would feel nice on my skin." >I agree, it would feel very nice on your skin.

Good lord, that man is so smooth. And I am also enjoying that she picks out a maroon one (because now I am thinking about that silk robe, and how they would go so well together 😏).

You're done hesitating. Of course you are. But when you take that step, it's going to be on your terms. You know, instinctively, that you should never give up too much power to him. Both because it would be so easy to lose yourself in him—which you don't want to do now that you've finally found yourself—and because he would delight in never giving it back.

The duality that of him that you show is so good, how he swings from >I could have you however I wanted, couldn't I? to the vulnerability admitting that he wants her to touch his face, the "but I think I will if you do it." I love that contrast between the predatory part of him, the part that's truly so dangerous (and yet so intriguing), but then you continue to show how needy he is underneath that, something he's trying to hide under his own mask (he's so pathetic and touch starved, I need him).

And then of course the smut is always so incredible, the way he talks I am just 🥵🫠😵‍💫. The >Only me. Only I can see you like this and >That's right. I'm going to make you sob my name. He's so possessive and demanding I'm going to lose it.

>It's all I've been able to think about for months. It's going to feel so fucking good to finally get to fuck you and come with my cock buried inside of you. And I'm going to do it over and over again until I physically can't anymore. >Do you understand? I NEED you. Fuck!

Ok, knowing it's speech to text makes this is so fucking hot, imagining how desperate his voice must sound, and then THE FUCKING PICTURE?? EXCUSE ME???? And her almost tipping and that feeling of freefall adding to everything when she comes, oh my god that was such a perfect parallel to this whole experience with him, LIKE JESUS CHRIST TARA THIS IS SO GOOD.

Seriously, I am always beside myself when I come back to this chapter, your dialogue and all of the interactions are always so dynamic even when their just talking and exploring. I am so excited to see where things are going to develop and evolve once she finally meets him! (truly I am gnawing on the walls, your slow burns are always so amazing, it drives me crazy and I love every minute of it!) 💖

Seriously, I am always beside myself when I come back to this chapter, your dialogue and all of the interactions are always so dynamic even when they're just talking and exploring. I am so excited to see where things are going to develop and evolve once she finally meets him! Truly I am gnawing on the walls, the way you write and and slowly ratchet up the need and tension is always so mind meltingly good, that slow burn drives me crazy and I love every minute of it! 💖💖💖

The Devil Makes Us Sin

Fandom: Luther, Luther: The Fallen Sun

Pairing: David Robey/F!Reader

Chapter 4/? (12.8k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 3

AO3 Link

Summary: Your life isn't perfect, and you don't enjoy moonlighting as a camgirl for so many repulsive men, but you need the money and it's yours. You're getting by just fine. You're content.

At least you thought you were. Then you get a strange text message. And you aren't sure if you're horrified or intrigued.

Warnings: Explicit rating, smut, stalking, spying, blackmail, manipulation, dubcon, dubious consent, Dom/sub, sadism, masochism, unprotected sex, oral sex, masturbation, mutual masturbation, choking, dirty talk, praise, humiliation, possessive love, yandere, minor description of gore, minor description of violence, murder, discussion of murder, shame involving sex work, light shaming of sex work, emotionally abusive mother, troubled mother/daughter relationship, sexual harassment, workplace sexual harassment, alcohol consumption, religious trauma

A/N: To all of my fellow readers with mother issues, this chapter is for us 💖 Because those troubled mother/daughter relationship and emotionally abusive mother tags hit real hard this chapter (I'm not projecting, you're projecting). But I eventually make it up to you, I promise. (As a reminder from my notes last chapter, David uses voice to text when they're chatting 😏) Also, I changed the formatting for texting conversations because eventually there will be texting while there is external dialogue, and I don't want it to be confusing. So his texts continue to be in italics and Reader's are in italics AND quotes.

Work title is from "Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack. Chapter title is from Tanaka Mhishi's poem in Literary Sexts II. Text divider 1 is from Francisco de Goya's Witches Flight. Text divider 2 is from Caravaggio's Sacrifice of Isaac.

Chapter 4 - I am fragile and unholy. Open. Ravage. Eat.

That night, after calming down from your conversation with David, you finally do the thing that you've been putting off for far too long. The thing that causes panic to swell in your chest and your mind to recoil whenever you start to examine it. 

You think about your mother.

So you pour a glass of wine, set your phone off to the side, flop down on your couch, and you begin to metaphorically unpack.

You've always prided yourself on being an intelligent woman. You know, logically, this will help you feel better in the long run. It will help you heal. Help you grow. And right now that's what you yearn for—to know and embrace yourself as you truly are, not who you pretended to be for so long that you almost believed it. Not your mask.

The mask that you built because of her, you think. One crafted out of fear and shame. Other people may have honed it, but she laid the foundation.

You also know she's the reason you have so many hang ups and difficulties forming connections with people. You know it's part of the reason you've been miserable for so long. You know this needs to be done. You know that.

It still…well, it hurts.

You learned at a young age to be fiercely independent because you couldn't count on her for support. Or encouragement. Or warmth. Her answer was always the same: "Pray or go to confession." As if all of your problems were your own fault or stemmed from a lack of faith.

And the message was clear—The only love you'll ever get is God's love. Maybe he can fix you.

You wanted it, though. God, did you want her to gather you in her arms and tell you, just once, that she was proud of you. That she truly loved you. You did everything you could to please and placate and impress her, hoping if you were good enough or hid well enough, you might finally get all of that. You got good grades, you were well-behaved, and you went to church, even when you stopped believing. You gave up your dream of being an artist for her, for christsake!

Sure, a part of that was because she tainted the piece of yourself you turned to for expression and escape. But since you're already unpacking every horrible bit of this, you can finally admit to yourself that you also gave it up for her.

For nothing.

Because it didn't work. Getting a business degree and an office job didn't make her proud, it only created a new direction in which you were lacking. You lost a part of yourself and got nothing in return. The thought of it makes you so angry that hot tears prick your eyes.

You get up to pour yourself another glass of wine.

You don't even know why your mother treated you the way she did. You think that if you could at least know why it might be easier to stomach. Then you wouldn't feel so confused and lost. Sure, it would hurt, but it would be something solid you could sit with.

Perhaps she saw that you weren't what she would call normal, and she hated it—wanted to spurn you into changing and hiding. It's ironic, then, that her disgust just fueled that darkness within you. Gave it the sustenance it needed to grow, devoid of warmth, in the corners of your heart and mind.

Maybe all of this would have turned out differently, if only she had loved you.

Or perhaps that's just who she is, and, even if you had been everything she wanted, it still wouldn't have made a difference. Still wouldn't have been good enough. You got it from somewhere, after all.

You'll never know either way.

What you do know is this: If you couldn't count on your own mother, then why would you ever think you could count on or trust anyone else?

Why wouldn't they brush you aside eventually as well? Why bother getting close to anyone—assuming they didn't bore you in the first place? Why wouldn't they see the real you and look just as disgusted as the one person that should have loved you unconditionally? 

And people continuously proved you right by walking away when you didn't thaw under their attention or they caught a glimpse of that darkness—until David. Until he looked and saw the real you, and it only made him want you more.

Well, you're thawing now.

No.

You're melting.

You wonder what your mother would think of you if she could see you at this very moment. On one hand, you've laid waste to the life you built for yourself for a man that stalked you. She'd have a few choice words for you there, such as disappointment and embarrassment. "What will people think?" But on the other hand, you finally have someone and he's rich, which would go a long way towards forgiveness. Because, even though she prides herself on her piety, pride is her greatest sin. She would tell everyone she knew, as if it were her achievement, while conveniently leaving out the rest of it. Like the fact that you're happy.

As you're pouring your third glass of wine, you debate calling her. It's not too late. She should still be awake. You can finally ask her why. Why nothing you've done has ever been good enough. Why she cared about God and what everyone else thought more than her own daughter. 

You can ask her why you can't remember the last time she hugged you or told you she loved you. Because a daughter should be able to recall that, shouldn't she? Oh, she said it plenty in front of other people. She gave you scraps with no meaning behind the words or warmth in her eyes. But in private, where no one else was watching her performance? You got nothing. You starved for affection. Maybe you can ask her why.

But you know that's the alcohol talking.

And it wouldn't do any good anyway. You won't get the answers you seek or the apology you need. You won't get promises to do better. You won't get a mom.

This was all for nothing.

Instead, you pick up your phone and block her number.

No contact. A clean cut. Never again.

You expect that to hurt, too, but for the first time since you started this, you feel lighter. Because you're finally done looking for hope where there isn't any to be found. You're also finally acknowledging that you deserved everything she never gave you. And that isn't a failing on your part—it never was. It's her failure. Another one of her sins. Now it's her loss.

Maybe you should have done that years ago, but you're doing it now. You're moving forward and letting go, and that's what's important.

While your phone is in your hand, you check your messages to confirm that David hasn't sent you anything. You aren't surprised. You hadn't expected him to. But that doesn't mean you didn't want him to.

You want it all the time now, you realize. It's only been a couple of hours since you ended the call, but you'd still love nothing more than to get back on and talk to him again until the early hours of the morning.

You may have been able to stop yourself from angrily calling your mother, but the combination of wine and your already weakening grasp on your self-control when it comes to him means you're typing before you even realize it.

"Thank you. For everything. I can never say it enough, David, because you've done more for me than any person in my life EVER has. I mean it. Truly. I'm so grateful."

"Also, for the record, I'm certain I could pick you out of a crowd now."

You're welcome. Always.

And I'll keep that in mind the next time I need coffee.

You smile at your phone. Your eyes are watery, your cheeks are warm, and your lips are lopsided and trembling. You can blame all of that on the wine, but the way your heart is battering against your ribcage?

You've got it bad for some words on a screen, a hand, a pair of shoes, and a ghost.

The next morning, you sleep in until a gloriously late hour. Just because you can. And because last night was emotionally exhausting—you're certain the wine didn't help either. Even when you're no longer tired, you lie in bed, wrapped in the warmth of your blankets, and bask in the knowledge that you never have to go back to that office ever again.

Or speak to your mother, you think with a contented sigh.

You feel untethered, but not adrift. No, you know exactly which direction you're headed, and now you have the freedom to do so.

Eventually you resume your search for a new bed on your phone as well because you start to think about how blissful this lounging would have been on a comfortable mattress. With silk sheets. And a new nightgown... Oh, now there's an interesting thought. You could get something new and sexy. Maybe something with lace. Or more silk. Or, even better, something sheer that barely covers your ass.

You also think about how much David would enjoy all of those things.

You start off looking at sleepwear that leans more sensible than sexy, but as you begin to wonder what he would think of each one, you quickly find yourself clicking on more and more revealing pieces.

It's when you're looking at a see through, drapey number that comes off with only a clasp between your breasts that your phone buzzes with a new text message.

You grin. You wondered how long it would be before he reached out to you. Now you're absolutely certain he's keeping tabs on you and saw how racy your searches were getting. Part of you was doing it on purpose—baiting him until he couldn't resist any longer. Even if it gave him away. You know better than to trust a coincidence.

Are you enjoying your first day of freedom?

"Immensely. I haven't even gotten out of bed yet." You're smug as you hit send because now you've added the thought of you in bed to his mental image of the lingerie.

Is that so? Sounds as though you're having a lovely morning.

Any other exciting plans for the day?

"Not unless you count a date with a book on my nightstand."

Depends on what kind of book.

"Well, there are two of them for me to choose from. One is a murder mystery. The other is a steamy romance novel." It's a lie. You have two art history books and an Amedeo Modigliani biography on your nightstand.

I see. Two very different types of thrilling.

"Exactly. On one hand, the murder mystery would stimulate my brain."

It takes a minute longer for you to get a response to that.

And what would the romance novel stimulate?

"My heart, David. What else?" You bite your lip in excitement as you continue to type.

"Now tell me which one you would like best."

If I had to choose between the two, I would prefer the murder mystery.

"Of course you would. But I meant which of the lingerie you would like best. Because I know you were watching me."

There's another pause.

All of them.

"All of them?! But there were so many!"

I'm certain. I liked all of them.

Especially since you'd be the one wearing them.

A pleasant heat unfurls in your chest and creeps up your neck at the thought of him sitting there, watching you browse, picturing you in every outfit…and maybe even saving a few of the links for later.

"Well then. I'll keep that in mind. I really liked the maroon silk one, personally. I bet it would feel nice on my skin."

I agree, it would feel very nice on your skin.

Fuck.

The mental image of his hand trailing up your thigh—pushing the hem of the nightgown higher and higher while the fabric and his palm slide over your quivering flesh—flashes vividly through your mind.

You had been enjoying a morning of relaxation and contentment just a few minutes ago. Even with a bit of light teasing about the lingerie, it had been peaceful. Now? Now that feeling has been reshaped and is nothing more than a memory. Now a slick heat has ignited in your core, and you're left nearly panting and writhing in your blankets from the intensity of it.

How quickly he can send you reeling.

God, you're definitely buying that one. Later. Right now, however, you finally have the chance to flirt with him—really flirt—and you're going to take it. Because you know where this is headed. You know where it could have resolved yesterday but didn't because you were at work.

And you're so glad you're not at work right now, stuck squirming and struggling at your desk as you try to ignore the swollen ache between your legs. Instead, you're squirming in the privacy of your bed, and you no longer have to ignore anything. Now you have no intention of stopping.

This is how you want to respond to him.

You're also really enjoying feigning innocence, and you're curious to see how much longer he'll play along. Because you have no illusions that he's buying a second of it.

"I don't think I'll be getting the black one with the sheer lace top, though. It didn't look very comfortable. I wouldn't be able to wear it for long."

Before he can reply, you quickly type out, "Wait. You're not busy, are you? I should have asked first before carrying on about my online shopping. That was rude of me."

I'm not anymore.

"Just get out of a meeting?"

I just canceled my last meeting because I've suddenly found something much better to do.

"Is helping me pick out pajamas really that thrilling?"

You can stop playing dumb now. You and I both know exactly what you're doing.

"What am I doing?" You straighten up and hold your breath in anticipation. You must be getting to him. You expected him to hold out just a little bit longer. Not that you're complaining. Not when you know you have his full attention.

You're trying to get me bothered as payback for yesterday.

"Is it working?"

You know it is.

"And just how bothered are you?"

Very.

You let out a shaky breath as you sink back into your pillows and begin to settle in. "Good. But that's not the only reason I'm doing this, David."

Is that so? What other reason do you have?

"Because I want to. Because I'm enjoying having the freedom to respond to you the way that I want."

Intriguing. And how are you doing that?

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." You shift your phone to your dominant hand to keep it steady. Then your other hand disappears beneath your covers and continues traveling down to the waistband of your panties.

Will I?

"You will. As long as you continue to please me." You nudge the fabric out of the way to give yourself the access you need and eagerly slip your hand inside. When your fingers finally brush over your arousal, you groan with relief.

There's nothing I want more than to please you.

"Is that so? How are you going to do that?" You repeat his words back to him as you rub a little harder along your damp folds. The added pressure makes your eyelids go heavy with lust. You spread your legs wider, seeking even more of that friction.

By giving you what you need.

God, you want that. From him. The thought of it makes you ache. Your fingers move to circle over your clit, dragging some of your wetness with them, and you moan into your empty bedroom. You shakily type out, "And what do I need?"

Me.

Shit. You had planned to go slow and tease yourself. You wanted to draw out the banter so you could savor your first time touching yourself to him. Because, despite the fact that he's turned you into a horny wreck several times already, you've held off until now. But as you read his text—that single word—it's as if your body has been doused in kerosene and lit on fire. Your hand speeds up.

"You seem awfully sure of that."

I'm very sure.

Are you going to tell me that I'm wrong? Or are you going to be honest?

You quickly debate finding a way to deny it. To get him to push harder because his arrogant confidence is stoking the flame in your belly and you want more. But every response you come up with sounds so flimsy. You know it won't work. He'll just call out the lie. He knows exactly how you're responding to him now, and he won't let it go, like a shark sensing blood in the water.

Well, if he wants to circle, then you'll give him prey instead—something he can't resist.

"Honest."

There's a good girl. Then be honest for me. Tell me what you need.

You cry out and your hips roll to meet the rhythm of your fingers. Your other hand is still gripping your cell phone, holding onto it for dear life so you don't drop it and miss a single word. "You."

That's right. And are you thinking about me right now?

"Yes." You are. You're thinking about his hands all over you, driving you wild and breathless and working needy little whimpers from your throat.

Very good. I hope you're thinking about all of the things I plan to do to you when I finally get my hands on you.

"Tell me. Please." More, you think. God, you need more.

And spoil the surprise? You'll have to use your imagination for now.

You grunt in frustration. "That's a little difficult when I don't know what you look like."

That is unfortunate, isn't it?

He's so god-damned smug! Jesus, it's infuriating!

There's a responding surge of wetness beneath your fingers, and the slick sound becomes obscene in your quiet bedroom.

"I've told you, it's unfair."

Nothing about this is supposed to be fair.

Your grip weakens and your phone nearly slips from your grasp, but you frantically right it. You're getting so close… "David, please!"

I promise when we move forward, you'll find out for yourself. But only when you're ready.

Unless you're done hesitating?

You know he's dangling that in front of you, tempting you with what you want so you'll say yes. You want to say yes. You want to call him right now and let him hear you say it as you moan and beg into the phone.

But that's giving him too much.

You're done hesitating. Of course you are. But when you take that step, it's going to be on your terms. You know, instinctively, that you should never give up too much power to him. Both because it would be so easy to lose yourself in him—which you don't want to do now that you've finally found yourself—and because he would delight in never giving it back.

"I suppose we'll see, won't we? I would hate to ruin the surprise."

Now who's being unfair?

"I'm only playing by your rules."

Clever.

My clever, beautiful girl. I can't wait to see you like this. I bet you look so good for me right now. Don't you?

"Yes!"

That's right. So fucking good and needy for me. God, I want you so much.

Your grip goes slack again, and this time you do drop your phone onto the bed. But you don't stop to pick it up. You're too far gone now, and you couldn't type even if you wanted to. Instead, you redouble your effort and greedily chase your orgasm, your hand moving in rapid strokes against your clit.

It's fast and messy and desperate. You haven't masturbated like this in years, but the tension has been building inside of you. It's grown under all of his teasing, his suggestive comments, his perceptive observations, and his unrevealing photos until you couldn't ignore it any longer. Now you need to release it at last—to immolate yourself in your desire.

For him.

"David," you moan. His name rolls off your tongue for the first time in ecstasy. It happens so naturally, as if you've said it that way a hundred times before. As if your mouth knows the way to give shape to your longing.

Hearing his name, when you're already poised on that edge, is your undoing.

You throw your head back into the pillow and arch off the bed with a cry as that tension finally snaps, sending a white hot fission through your veins in its place. Your toes curl and your newly freed hand bunches a fistful of your sheets, pulling them taut while your whole body shudders with every violent swell of pleasure.

As you come, all you can think about is him. "Fuck!" The movement of your fingers over your clit becomes jerky, but never slows. You're determined to make every second of this feel so fucking good. "David!" It rolls and rolls and rolls through you, weakening and yet seemingly without end as you work every last bit of rapture from your sensitive flesh—

Until, finally, you collapse against the bed with a whimper, and your hand flops weakly down onto the mattress next to you. You lay there, gasping for breath, your eyes closed, and your limbs and your brain and your belly humming in the heady afterglow of your release.

By all accounts, this should bring you a bone deep satisfaction. It should have quelled the fire that burns for him, even if only temporarily.

But as your mind clears, you feel quite the opposite. As if something has awakened inside of you, stirring from a deep slumber in that same way he roused your darkness.

And it's ravenous.

You grope along the bedspread for your phone.

When you pick it back up, your hands are still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

"I think I'm rather enjoying my new freedom."

So am I.

A groan is wrenched from your chest as you glance up at his previous messages and wonder just how much he was enjoying it. You have a pretty good guess.

"God, David. I miss you."

I miss you, too. But not for much longer.

"Would you like to chat now?" There's a renewed flutter of interest from your swollen sex as you think about doing this again, but for him.

There's nothing I want more. Unfortunately, I have some important personal matters to take care of this afternoon, but I promise the evening is yours. How does 6 o'clock sound?

There's a pang of disappointment in your chest. That's hours from now! But before you can pout, you remind yourself that you're an adult. You can control and entertain yourself until then, for christsake. Besides, he said the evening was yours. You'll have plenty of time to talk to him later.

You also really want to ask what sort of personal matters because you're curious about what they could be, and about him in general, but he would have elaborated if he wanted you to know. The word personal also denotes a certain level of privacy. So you leave it be. For now.

"That sounds lovely. I'm looking forward to it."

Me too. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your date with the book on your nightstand.

"I've changed my mind there, actually. I have a lot more shopping to do instead." You give your phone a little grin.

Oh?

"Yes. It's been so productive and satisfying thus far. Who knows what other wonderful things might result from it?"

I see.

"I hope you enjoy your afternoon."

I'm certain I will. Enjoy your shopping.

You end up purchasing some of the lingerie that gets you particularly worked up whenever you think about him—especially the maroon one. Then you spend the rest of your day purging your wardrobe of your boring work clothes and whatever else reminds you too much of your old life. The result is a sparse apartment and an even barer closet, but you like it. It's a reflection of where you are in life and of all the room you have to grow and rebuild the way you want.

You may occasionally take breaks from downsizing to browse for new outfits and dresses, but it's to figure out what you like so you can eventually replace what you're getting rid of. It's definitely not to keep David intrigued throughout the day and looking forward to talking to you again. Not when he's so busy. That would be cruel.

You can't remember ever smiling this much.

You log on several minutes early. You don't care that it's probably a little pathetic. You don't even care if it lets him know exactly how eager you are for this. You've been checking the clock since five and you were getting impatient. You can only pace so many circles in your living room before you lose your mind. Not that sitting there and staring at your own face is any better, but at least it gets you closer to him.

To your relief, he logs on a few minutes early, too. Possibly because he knows you're already here, but you hope it’s because he was impatient as well. The electronic chime makes your heart swell in your chest.

"Hello, David."

Hello, darling.

The image of you on the screen practically swoons at his greeting. There's no other way to describe the gentle tilting of your head, your dreamy smile, or how your eyes soften with affection.

You barely recognize this woman.

You're not sure you've ever made that face before now. Or if you have, it was when the National Gallery rotated Cornelius van Haarlem's Two Followers of Cadmus devoured by a Dragon back into display after you hadn't seen it in a while. Never for another person. Certainly not for a black square not even three centimeters wide.

This man is dangerous.

Getting impatient, were you?

"I knew you were going to say something," you grumble as you fight off a sudden wave of embarrassment.

How could I not? You have no idea how lovely this feeling is. It's gratifying to have such a beautiful woman wanting to talk to you.

You lean in close and lower your voice. "In that case, I was very impatient."

Hmm. I'm so very pleased to hear it.

Did you have a productive afternoon?

"I did, actually. I accomplished quite a bit."

Good. And did you have fun shopping?

"You know I did." You give the camera a heated smile. While it wasn't as risque as the lingerie, the clothes you were looking at—low cut silky blouses, high slit skirts, backless tops, skin tight pants—were still sexy, just in a more subtle way.

Do I?

You roll your eyes and ignore the obvious bait—something that would have irritated a response from you just a few days ago. "How was your afternoon?"

Also productive, despite the circumstances.

"Circumstances?" You cock an eyebrow, no longer able to ignore it. He really does know how to push your buttons, after all, much to your chagrin. "Do you mean with your personal matters or do you mean spying on me?"

Both, but I wouldn't call it spying.

"Well, I would! So it serves you right." Despite your fake outrage, you're thrilled he was still paying attention, even when he was busy.

Do you want me to stop?

You pause to consider your answer. You think you should probably be unsettled that he's monitoring all of your activity. If any other man did that, you would be furious and horrified, but he's not any other man. He's also not holding it over you, making you feel bad, or controlling what you're doing. So far—your answer would change if he were. He's simply looking.

And you enjoy knowing that he's looking. In a strange way, it makes you feel connected to him, even when you aren't chatting, as if it's just another aspect of your relationship. It also makes you feel like you're the most important and interesting thing in his life—you'll admit that particular feeling has become quite addictive. You enjoy being able to take advantage of it as well, like you did this afternoon.

However, there may be times when you do want privacy for a specific reason. He certainly doesn't need to know every detail about your hygiene purchases or your embarrassing Google searches. Well, future embarrassing searches, anyway. It also makes it very difficult to surprise him if he can see what you're up to.

"No, I don't want you to stop." Your lips curl into a seductive smile. "I like it quite a bit, in fact. I just have one condition."

What's that?

"If I do ever ask for privacy, you give it to me. No questions asked and no looking."

Of course. Then you'll have it.

"I mean it," you say seriously. "I need to trust you'll respect my wishes."

You have my word that I will give you privacy whenever you request it. You only ever need to ask.

"Alright." You relax in your chair, mollified by his response. Because you believe him. "Thank you, David."

You're welcome.

Now tell me about your productivity.

"That's not a very exciting topic of conversation, I'm afraid. In fact, most of it was quite boring."

Tell me anyway.

"Well, I went through my flat and got rid of everything that felt like it belonged to the person I was pretending to be and not me."

I see. That doesn't sound boring. You shed another one of your layers.

I bet it felt good.

"It did! It felt freeing. I didn't realize before how much my place felt like a stage. As if the performance didn't stop, even when I was alone. And when I had a roommate? God, no wonder I was always so miserable."

It's also probably why you grew to resent every roommate you've ever had, no matter how much you didn't mind or tolerated them when they moved in. It didn't matter if they were quiet or cleaned up after themselves. Their presence meant the only place you could truly let your guard down was your bedroom. It was exhausting.

"But now the set dressings are gone. No more calf length pencil skirts or tacky lingerie. No more gifted kitchen gadgets and holiday candles. No more cheap art prints of pieces that I don't even like.” Then you grumble, “God, I swear I had like, half a dozen versions of Irises.”

No more mask.

"No more mask," you repeat out loud with a sigh of relief. Even saying it feels incredible. "Speaking of, you'll be pleased to hear I've also been doing some reflecting since we talked yesterday." You can't help the smug grin that creeps onto your face.

Oh?

"Yes. I've figured out where my reflex to apologize when I think I've upset or inconvenienced someone comes from."

Have you? Does that mean you're ready to talk about your mother?

You huff out a laugh and shake your head. Of course. You should have seen that coming. "You're frighteningly good at that."

It's a gift.

You can feel his smirk through your screen. "So it is. And I'm glad to know that I'm predictable."

I never used that word.

"It's true, though." You shrug, unbothered by your own statement. "It's a behavior that's usually learned in childhood. In this instance, I'm not particularly unique."

I disagree.

"I just meant that a lot of people have troubled relationships with their parents." A lot of them developed the same issues from it as well, you think to yourself. Granted, the cliche is that women in the sex work industry have daddy issues, not mommy issues. So perhaps you're not entirely predictable.

And yet, they're not you. They didn't become what you are.

"And just what am I?" That's another thing you haven't looked at too closely. You've been so consumed with the "who," you haven't really considered the "what."

You're something entirely different. Something more like me.

"That's not an answer."

I assure you, it is.

"It's not, David," you insist. "I still don't fully know what that means!"

If you're expecting me to pathologize you instead, I'm not going to.

"Why not?" You tilt your head curiously. You weren't actually expecting him to, but now you're intrigued as to why he won't.

Because that's not an answer to your question either. Those terms and labels are just more costumes that don't suit you. You're far more than that.

Before you can object that you disagree and that it might actually help you understand yourself better, he continues on. As if he anticipated what you were going to say.

It would also imply there's something wrong with you. But there's nothing wrong with you, despite what anyone may have told you in the past.

"You really do have me all figured out, don't you?" There's more affection in your voice than you intended.

I told you. I see you.

"You do. And I'm guessing you see my text message history, too." You raise an eyebrow at the camera in challenge, daring him to deny it.

You thought a lot about what else he would have access to after he blindsided you with the knowledge of your side bank account. Reading your texts would be absurdly easy in comparison, so of course he knows about your relationship with your mother. It's also how he knew that threatening to tell her your secret would be so effective.

That as well.

"I think that's the first thing I know you've seen that I feel embarrassed about."

Why?

"Because it means you've seen the worst of my mask," you say quietly.

I wouldn't say that. I saw a daughter desperate for her mother's affection and approval.

"Oh, god," you groan as you rub a hand over your face, completely mortified by his phrasing, but unable to find fault in it. "That's exactly what I mean!"

You're not the one who should be embarrassed by those messages.

"I'm the only one that is. Or will be. Trust me, she thinks everything she's ever said to me was righteous and justified, and you can't get blood from a stone." You flop your hand back onto the desk—a little harder than you meant to—and it makes your webcam shake.

You can already feel that mixture of hurt and anger rising in your throat and threatening to spill out. You quickly swallow it down and take a deep breath to regain control over your emotions. You're not going to have a breakdown on camera because of her. You're done letting her hurt you.

It's not righteous or justified, but I'm guessing you know that already.

"I do, but I appreciate the reassurance anyway." You give him a soft, grateful smile. Then your face falls as you glance back down to your keyboard. "What else did you see?"

Most of your text conversations with her are arguments. I suspect your phone conversations are similar.

"They are," you confirm without hesitation. "I don't think we know how to communicate any other way."

But you're not the instigator, are you?

"No," you sigh heavily. "I do everything I can to avoid an argument because I'm just so tired of it, but it usually doesn't matter. She can always find fault with my tone or something I've said. And of course there's also the fact that I don't go to church, don't have an important career, haven't gotten married, and don't have or want children. You can imagine her disappointment."

I shudder to think.

What an exhausting, horrible woman.

"That she is," you can't help but laugh. Despite the heavy topic of conversation, his irritation on your behalf is endearing. "I hate calling her or answering the phone. And God forbid I need something! You'll note that when I needed money to keep my flat, I became a camgirl before I even thought about asking her for help."

I had noticed you never considered doing anything else. Then I read your messages and it wasn't difficult to understand why.

You try not to feel mortified once again at the reminder that he's seen those. Instead, you tell yourself that he saw them and he kept looking. They didn't disgust him or scare him off—from you anyway. Even after reading them, he still wanted you.

You truly understand now what he's always meant when he says he sees you. It's a very assuring, lovely thought.

"It turned out to be a wonderful decision, at least." You give the camera a coy smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

I would have to agree. A very wonderful decision.

"She wouldn't have helped me anyway, so I knew it was pointless. The few times she did, she lorded it over me constantly. As if I should be forever in her debt because she paid for my university textbooks years ago."

Is that another reason you were so afraid to take my money? Or why you were worried about feeling as though you owed me?

"Huh…" You lean back in your chair as you mull THAT one over. You hadn't quite connected those dots yet, but now that he's pointed it out, you have always been bad at accepting any help or gifts. Every single one felt like it came with an unspoken expectation or debt of some kind that would be called upon later. Now you know why.

You briefly wonder what other sort of connections you'll make in the future. Because you're starting to realize there are still plenty of them left to be uncovered.

"I think that was part of it, certainly, but you have to admit, the circumstances were also a very big factor as to why I didn't want your money."

Of course. You thought I was trying to buy you.

"I absolutely did! And in a way, you were," you tease. "It was just my attention you were paying for."

I made no attempt to hide that what I wanted was you, but it really was a gift. I knew the money would give you the freedom to think about everything I said, and once you did, you could no longer ignore your mask. Then maybe you would finally rid yourself of it. I wanted that for you.

And I wanted to see what would become of you when your strings were cut.

"Well, are you pleased with your handiwork?"

Quite pleased. I'm enjoying seeing the real you and how beautifully you've flourished in the light, now that you're no longer hiding.

"I have flourished, haven't I? I feel at home in my own skin for the first time in my life." You arch your shoulders, stretching lazily as if to savor the truth of your statement, before resting your forearms on the desk. You look quite pleased with yourself as well. "For so long I've been afraid to peel back all those layers and confront what's underneath, but now that I'm finally realizing who I am and what I want, I can't stop picking. I like what's underneath."

So do I.

You deserve to be proud. You've been working very hard to find your truth.

A warmth radiates through your chest at his praise.

"I have." Then you smile sadly. "Unfortunately, the truth hasn't always been painless."

No. It's never that.

"But every second has been worth it to have this." You glance up at the camera and let the double meaning hang in the air.

I'm glad. And I would have to agree. Wholeheartedly.

After a hesitation, you say, "One of those painful truths was realizing that my mother probably had a big hand in making me what I am."

Darling, NO.

The only thing she had a hand in was making you feel ashamed of yourself or like you had to hide what you are. She tried to destroy something exquisite and she failed. You are what you are despite her.

Do you know why? It's because you're better than her. You always have been and she knows it. Why do you think she treats you the way she does? That woman is a monster and she doesn't deserve any part of you.

Your eyes immediately fill with tears as you read the chat box. No one's ever told you that before. You may have come to the same conclusion last night, but you had no idea how much you needed to hear it from someone else, so to speak. Now hearing it from him?

"God, David. I've never…" you trail off, your voice choked with emotion. It takes you a second to get control over yourself enough to continue. "Thank you. And you're right." You sniffle and quickly try to blink away the tears. Then with more force, you say, "I've endured her for too long. Thankfully, I never have to again. I blocked her number last night and I'm cutting her out of my life."

You did?

"I did. Once I realized there was nothing good there to hold onto, even the idea of removing her from my life brought me more peace and happiness than having her in it ever did."

Good. I hope it does.

"So far, so good." You give him a teary smile.

I'm sure that couldn't have been easy.

"It wasn't. Or at least the process of coming to that conclusion wasn't, but it was all far more anticlimactic than I thought it would be."

Is that why you sent me that message?

"Oh, god." Your face begins to burn with embarrassment as you remember texting him while more than a little tipsy. "Yes," you finally answer sheepishly while you glance up at the ceiling. 

Why are you embarrassed by that?

"Because, if I'm being honest, I was two and a half glasses of wine in when I sent that."

Were you now?

"I was. I knew it was the only way I would be able to cope with that whole process."

And did it help?

"I think it did. I got through it, anyway. I'm just glad that I didn't call or text her. God, that would have been a trainwreck." You glance suggestively up at the camera and lower your voice. "I have far less self-control when it comes to you, apparently."

You have no idea how much I enjoy hearing that.

"But we should both be grateful that I didn't send you anything messier than I already did."

I don't know, sounds intriguing.

"See, you're thinking about me sending you something sexy, but I'm worried about sending you something frantic and emotional," you laugh. "Which would have been far more likely given the circumstances."

Hmm. I see your point.

"So anticlimactic really was for the best all around. And it's done now."

Good riddance.

"Do you want to know the worst part, though?" This time there's a bitterness to your smile, and it doesn't meet your eyes. "Through all of this, I never stopped wanting her to love me. I tried so hard. I never stopped trying, but she did. A long time ago. She'll never be the mom that I want, just like I was never the daughter she wanted. I know that now and I've finally made peace with that reality. Plus, realizing I would never understand or get any sort of closure was another big catalyst for me to finally pull that trigger the way I did." Your face finally softens. "But I never would have confronted any of that if not for you."

You would have gotten there on your own. Eventually.

“Possibly. I was getting exhausted from it. To the point that everytime my phone rang, I considered tossing it out the window rather than answer it.”

I could make her life miserable, you know.

If you asked it of me.

"Tempting." You let out a chuckle and wipe away the remnants of a tear drying on your cheek. "But I'd rather her not be in my life at all, even through you. I'm making a clean cut so she can no longer use me to build herself up, and for her that will be a worse punishment than anything you could think of."

I don't know. I have a very vivid imagination.

But I will leave it be unless you change your mind.

"I do appreciate the offer." You smile gratefully. "That's twice now you've given me the opportunity for vengeance."

It won't be the last, should you ever feel the need for it.

"Is it strange that I find the thought of you wanting to make someone miserable for hurting me sweet and endearing?"

No.

I would hurt anyone you asked me to, even if all they did was annoy you.

"You would?"

I would. Without hesitation. For you.

"Fuck," you gasp as you squirm in your seat, suddenly very turned on. "I really like the thought of that."

Do you?

"I do." 

How much?

"This much." You bite your lip as you bring your hands to your top. Then you begin to slowly unbutton your blouse. The heat that started between your thighs rises to your belly. This is finally happening.

There's a pause.

You're sure?

"Yes. I'm so sure you didn't even have to ask." Your fingers continue to methodically work each loop as you speak, driven on by determination. "I'm done hesitating. I want this, David. I wanted it last night before I got interrupted, and I wanted it this afternoon."

You’ve found closure for so much of your past—all the ties to your old life, your social media, your friends, your job, your mother—and you're done looking back. All you want now is to move forward. After all the emotional turmoil you went through to get to this point, all you want is to fall into him.

Once you’ve finished, your top spills open, revealing the cups of your bra and your bare stomach on the screen. The chat box sits, unmoving, and you realize he must be watching very carefully. So you slide the fabric down your arms, seductively arching your chest towards the camera to make a show of it, until it comes free. You toss it to the side without looking. Then you're left in nothing but your bra and skirt.

"I want you to see me. All of me. I want to show you what you're missing, hiding from me behind that screen. You could be here with your hands and your mouth on me, instead, you know. I want you to think about that, and I want you to touch yourself while you do." You look directly into the webcam with all of the desire, need, and heat that has been building up inside of you for the past week. "Because I plan to as well. Again."

You have no idea how much I’ve resisted doing all of that. It's taken every ounce of my self-control to resist you.

"Why can't we just give in then?" You beg for the camera. "Why can't we just skip this part? Come here now. Tonight. Touch me instead."

You aren't ready for that yet.

"I strongly disagree!" You scoff, almost offended at the implication that you don't know what you want.

Besides, I get to see you like this first, remember? I get to see you in a way no one else ever has. I've earned it.

"You have," you sigh in acceptance. You knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try. "Don't worry, I'll give it to you. Not just because I'm too fucking horny to argue with you properly right now, but also because I said I would, and I'm still going to enjoy letting go for you. Just know that it's a poor substitute for you. Because what I really want is to hear your voice as you tell me how good it feels to fuck me. I want to hear the way you moan and gasp when you lose control of yourself inside of me. I want to know your face when you do. Because I want you, David."

It takes a moment for him to reply. You're aware you'll never get to know exactly how he responded to you. You'll never get to see the look on his face or hear the sounds he made as you said those things to him. But, you think with no small amount of smugness, you can take a very good guess.

Then you'll have me. Soon.

Until then, show me what I'll have.

Take off the rest of your clothes. I want to see you.

You stand up from your chair to do as he instructed. The angle of the camera means your face is no longer in view, and it reminds you so much of your streams that it's momentarily jarring. But once you unzip your skirt, you bend forward to push it down your hips, and the sight of your own face brings you back to the moment.

The one where you're stripping for your stalker slash blackmailer, and it's the sexiest, most romantic thing that's ever happened to you.

Your skirt hits the floor with a soft thump, and you step out of it as you nudge it to the side with your foot. If you remove one more thing, it will be the most he's ever seen of you. Now each step forward is not only new, but is one step closer to getting what you really want: Him.

The thought is thrilling.

So thrilling that you waste no time. You hook your thumbs into the thin elastic of your panties and slip them—slowly, inch by inch to continue teasing him—to your knees, baring your lower half to him.

You stand there for a few seconds, letting him take it all in. That's what he wanted, after all. To see all of you. For you to show him all of you. Every moment between you has been leading to this, and you won't deny him now.

When you sit back down, you slide your panties the rest of the way off. They get thoughtlessly added to the growing, scattered pile. Then you stay there on your repurposed dining room chair, bare skin on wood, and you wait.

As you do, you're very careful to keep your legs closed. It wouldn't do to rush this and give everything away all at once. Especially not when you currently hold all of the power. He may have earned this, but so have you. And you’re going to relish it for as long as you can.

Except there's still nothing new in the chat box. You tell yourself he's probably just settling in and enjoying the view, but the silence is unnerving. You have no way of knowing what he's thinking right now, if he's even enjoying it, and that makes you feel exposed. You’ve gotten so comfortable with the back and forth—of getting some feedback—that not getting it is a sobering reminder that you can't read his expressions or hear the tone of his voice. All he really is to you is text on a screen.

“David?” You call out hesitantly.

Another minute passes and you start to wonder if he's intentionally trying to make you squirm. He does enjoy it, after all. Or perhaps he recognizes how the balance of power has shifted, and he's trying to take some back for himself. It does seem like a very David thing to do.

Then, without warning, your mind offers up the possibility that he's disappointed. That you aren't what he was expecting and now he’s—

God, you’re beautiful. I knew you would be.

Relief courses through you, alleviating the weight that was settling in your chest.

Or maybe he was just taking his pants off, too.

I want to see the rest of you.

That's all the reassurance you need to banish that momentary doubt completely.

You reach behind yourself to undo the clasp of your bra. Rather than remove it, you hug the material loosely to your chest and give the camera a coy glance.

“You mean like this?” You tease as your fingers play with the straps.

Yes.

Take it off.

You slowly lower your arms, letting it fall away from your breasts. And just like that, you're naked on screen—something you never thought would happen. Something you swore would never happen. But there you are, running the tips of your fingers enticingly up the tops of your thighs and over your bare hips. For him.

Seeing you like this was worth every second of waiting. You're stunning. Just perfect.

“Thank you, David,” you say softly, touched by his compliments. It’s sweet, but if he keeps this up, you’ll be feeling more affectionate than horny.

You have no idea how much I want to be the one touching you right now.

That's better.

"Oh, but I think I know exactly what it's like to want you to be the one touching me. Do you have any idea how much I've fantasized about your hands on me since you sent me that picture? God, if I hadn't been at work, I would have made myself come so many times."

That's why I didn't want you distracted.

"I wasn't distracted this afternoon," you say in a husky voice.

No you weren't. 

Did it feel good to finally give in?

"Yes." You bite your lip as you remember the way that growing tension in your belly finally gave when you moaned his name. "It felt so good to respond to you."

Did you think about me touching you like you wanted?

"God, yes. In every way I could think of."

Where did you imagine me touching you? Show me where you like to be touched.

You run a finger from your jaw, down the column of your neck, and then trace along your collarbone. "If you kiss me here, I'll be weak in your arms. But if I feel your tongue here, you'll have me begging."

Then I'll have you weak and begging.

Is that all?

"I was getting there." You smile playfully. “So impatient.”

You continue to run your fingers down your sternum, letting your knuckles skim against the swell of your breasts. You stop and move to cup the soft flesh with your hands.

“I want your lips and your hands here,” you moan as you start to gently massage yourself. Your nipples harden under your palms as you rub over them, causing a pleasant shiver to snake its way through you. Then you arch into your own hands as you think about what it would be like to have his hands here instead. Whether his touch would be gentle like this, or harsh as he wrenches a shudder from the sensitive peaks.

I'm going to enjoy doing just that. Especially if you'll be this responsive for me.

“More so,” you vow, breathlessly, "because it would be you. Are you touching yourself now?"

Yes.

“Fuck,” you hiss. "Are you imagining that it's me instead?"

You know I am.

"Good because I want it to be me. I'm aching to put my hands on you, too.” Your hands lower from your breasts to brush across your stomach. “Where do you like to be touched, David?"

By you? There's nowhere I wouldn't want your hands.

Intriguing, but you know he can give you more than that. "Then where should I start?"

There’s a brief pause that almost feels like hesitation.

My face.

"Your face?” You blink in mild surprise. You weren't expecting that answer, but now you understand the hesitation. He was preparing to admit something vulnerable to you. “That's very intimate."

Is it? Maybe that's why I've never liked it before, but I think I will if you do it.

Despite how sexy all of this is, your heart flutters at the sweetness of that line. He wants intimacy with you, not just the sex. You're reminded of what he said to you yesterday: ‘I want you to be mine in every way it's possible to want someone.’

“I like the thought of that.” You lean in towards the camera, letting your eyelids go heavy as you lower your voice to something both seductive and tender. "Do you want me to cup your cheeks and stroke my fingers over you as we kiss?"

Yes.

"Then maybe I could…” You drop to a half whisper, “kiss along your jaw as well."

It's like you read my mind.

There's a pleased flush in your chest that creeps onto your face as the hint of a smile. "Do you have facial hair?"

No.

"Good to know." You imagine your lips moving over smooth, tanned skin. You wonder if it will be soft, or a little rough with age.

Do you prefer beards?

"I don't have a preference. What looks good depends on the person." You tilt your head curiously. “Have you ever tried growing a beard?”

Once. It didn't suit me.

“Then I'd prefer you without one.”

You're assembling these new, small pieces together with your existing mental image of him. It's like staring at a magic eye puzzle—if you look hard enough, you can almost swear you see the shape of him. But then you blink and it's gone.

You need more.

“Where would I touch you next?”

My chest.

"Is that so?"

Yes.

"Please tell me you don't shave your chest, too. Promise me you have chest hair."

I promise I have chest hair.

"Oh, thank god,” you sigh with relief. “Because you have hair on the backs of your hands and wrists and it's so fucking sexy. I can only imagine how sexy the rest of it is."

You like that, do you?

“Yes.”

Then I think you’ll be pleased.

"Christ, I like the sound of that.” You squirm a bit in your seat. “Where else do you like to be touched?"

My cock.

You nearly choke on a whimper. 

Up till now, this felt like an exploration—or as much as it could be with only you on the screen. You were expecting a buildup of teasing and touching and sharing before you both truly let go. Instead, he sent you reeling. Again. He must be getting impatient.

As you stare at that line, there's a painful ache of arousal between your legs. You unconsciously grind yourself down onto your chair to alleviate some of it. The seat is going to be a mess by the time you're done, you think.

"I plan to touch you there a lot."

Yes you will.

"Are you circumcised?" You can't help the curiosity that seeps into your voice.

I'm not going to describe my cock to you.

"David!" You pout at your screen. "I'm not asking for numbers, here. I just want to know what it would be like to stroke you."

And you'll find out eventually.

“That's not fair.” You are completely naked, after all.

I already told you it's not supposed to be fair.

“Yes, yes, you’re very mysterious,” you huff in disappointment.

Like I said, you’ll find out eventually.

“Soon, I hope.”

Soon.

Now I want you to go back to showing me where you want my hands.

“Do you?” You lean back in your chair. “You want more to think about while you're touching yourself?”

That's exactly what I want.

“Hmm, how can I ever say no to that?” Then you lean even further back so you can caress over the curve of your hips. “You can run your hands along here as you feel your way over my body. It will feel lovely, but I'll enjoy it even more if you grab me instead. Because I want to feel how much you need me.”

That's good because I want to grab you by the hips to hold you still as I slam my cock into you.

“Fuck, David!” You cry out. Your hands reflexively grip and squeeze your own hips at the mental image, your fingers digging almost painfully into the bone. Your sex clenches in anticipation, hoping you’ll get what he said would come next.

If he was there with you and not still on the other end of the call. God, you wish he was there.

After that, you also know the teasing and buildup has come to an end. You can't hold back any longer, and he's made it very clear that neither can he.

"Do you know where else I liked to be touched?" Before he can reply, you finally tilt your hips and spread your legs wide, exposing your sex for the camera. You settle your knees on either side of the seat of the chair with your calves tucked against the wooden legs.

You like to think, if he were there in person, he would have been opening his mouth to answer as the words died on his lips. Instead, you imagine his fingers frozen over his keyboard as he gets to see the part of you he's been waiting for. You're certain he's been going slow—stroking himself enough for it to feel good, but not so much that he loses control. Not until he gets what he wants. Not until he's gotten this.

You end the exploration of your body by reaching between your thighs. Then you cup your mound and begin teasing your fingers along your folds. God, you're already so wet. "Right here. Especially by a hand that knows what I need."

Show me what you need.

You plunge a finger into your entrance and moan at the intrusion. You can't remember the last time you did this. Usually you focus on just your clit with your fingers or your vibrator, eager for the release and not caring much about indulging in the process. You didn't have a reason for it other than getting off to relieve some tension.

Now, as you slide your finger out and draw it over that sensitive nub, you want it back inside of you. You want to be full as you think of him. So you press two inside of you instead.

"I want to know what you look like so badly," you gasp as your fingers begin to work your cunt.

Do you?

"I do. And I want to know what you feel like."

You will, that I promise you.

"God," you whine and slip a third finger into your opening. "This feels so good. I haven't fingered myself in a while."

Why not?

"I haven't wanted to. I just wanted a quick orgasm."

Then I continue to keep my promise, don't I? I made you want to.

"Yes! Christ, I want to," you gasp and rock your hips up to meet your hand. "I want to touch myself like this for you. I love knowing that you're watching me, David, and that you're getting off to it. But more than that, I love pretending that it's you."

If you're pretending that it's me, you need to go deeper because I intend to fuck you properly.

You slam your fingers into yourself as far as they will go, and your head falls back with a cry. “God, I want you to fuck me. Please!”

While I grab your pretty hips and make you take every bit of me?

“Fuck! Yes, exactly like that!” You whine. “I can't believe you're going to make us wait for this! Because you don't have to. You could have me now."

I could.

I could have you however I wanted, couldn't I?

You glance down at the camera, your eyes heavy with lust. "Would you like that?"

You're not answering the question.

"That's because I know better than to say yes," you pant. Your fingers are still working inside of you, stretching you in a way that is both satisfying and not nearly enough. It's driving you crazy.

What does that mean?

"We both know that if I bare my throat to you, you won't be able to resist ripping it out."

I would never hurt you unless you wanted it.

"I believe that you would never want to, but I see you, too. You couldn't help it.” Your hand slows, and you tilt your head as you consider your computer screen. “Could you?"

There's a moment of stillness from the chat box, and you briefly wonder if you've upset him, even though you know you're right. You know there's something about him that’s dangerous and predatory. He admitted as much himself. And it’s not like you feel the need to be overly careful or afraid of him. The thought doesn't bother you. You simply know that you can never tempt him by actually offering yourself up as helpless prey. Or he might just get a taste for it. 

Because you can love a predator as long as you never forget, for even a second, that it's still a predator—no matter how much it shows you its belly and loves you back.

You know all of that. Instinctively. Logically.

And yet.

You do so love being his favorite little prey.

"It doesn't scare me, David," you say quietly to break the silence.

No?

"No. Quite the opposite." You draw your fingers out of yourself to rub over your clit with a moan. "It intrigues me."

I know it does.

Why do you think I’ve done all of this? I knew, from the moment I saw you, that you could want what I am.

“And what are you, David?”

Darling, did you really think I would answer that question? Where's the fun in that?

“But I want to know.” Your fingers speed back up against your bundle of nerves. “I want to know everything about you.”

You will.

“And I want to know every secret you keep from the rest of the world.”

Don't worry, you’ll know me completely.

Eventually.

His words feel like a promise and a threat. You shiver with pleasure.

You shift down far enough in your chair to get a better angle. Then you bring your knees up and plant your feet wide against the edge of your desk. You know this has the added bonus of giving him an even better view of your opening. It also gives him a hint of what it might look like when you finally lay back and spread your legs for him.

"Can you see how wet I am?" You drag your fingers over your clit with a gasp. “Can you see how much I want you?”

Yes. I can see exactly how eager you are.

"Good. As you're stroking yourself, I want you to think about burying your cock right here.” You move your other hand between your thighs. Without hesitation, you plunge your fingers into your entrance again. Now you’re pleasuring your clit while also getting that enticing fullness you ache for, and it feels fucking incredible. The sight of both of your hands moving on your screen only adds to the indulgence.

As if I could think about anything else.

"I wish I was watching you right now instead of myself."

You want to watch me stroke my cock to you?

Your whole body shudders, and you bite your lip to stifle a whimper. "Yes! I want to watch the way your hand slides over your cock and how it throbs and twitches in your fist. I want to see what I do to you."

What you do to me…

You drive me insane. I've never needed to fuck someone like I need to fuck you.

"Jesus!" You wail as your hips jerk forward, and your knees start to shake. “David!”

That's right. I'm going to make you sob my name.

"If you keep talking like that, I'm not going to last long,” you pant.

Good. I want to see you let go for me.

“But I want you to enjoy this!”

You think I'm not enjoying this?

I finally got to see how responsive you are to my words and hear the sounds you make when you're like this. This is everything I wanted. Better, even. Now I can't imagine how much better it will be in person.

When you're full of my cock instead of your fingers.

“Fuck!” You’re driving those fingers in and out of your cunt with purpose now. You're no longer giving him a show. This is you feeling your orgasm closing in on you and scrambling for it, desperate and needy.

Fuck, that's good. Look at you. You're so god-damned beautiful as you fuck yourself for me.

"God, yes!" You gasp as you arch in your chair. "For you."

Only me. Only I can see you like this.

Say it.

"Only you, David."

That's my girl.

Now you're going to come for me.

“I'm so close,” you whine.

And I'm going to come as I imagine your tight little cunt.

“David,” you gasp, barely able to speak now through your ragged breathing. “Please.”

It's all I've been able to think about for months. It's going to feel so fucking good to finally get to fuck you and come with my cock buried inside of you. And I'm going to do it over and over again until I physically can't anymore.

Do you understand? I NEED you. Fuck!

“Yes,” you barely whisper. You're not even sure the microphone picked it up, but you have nothing more to give. The tension building inside of you is becoming nearly suffocating as you read every word. You feel you might drown in it before you ever find release.

As you continue seeking your own satisfaction, a photo pops up in the chat.

At the top of the photo, there’s the edge of a laptop keyboard, which is sat on top of a very ornate and expensive looking wooden desk. But that's not the point of the photo. No. That's not what strangles your breath in your throat or sets a flame in your chest that licks at your cheeks.

The polished surface of the desk is streaked and splattered with come. His come.

You imagine him standing in front of his computer, urgently stroking himself until he's shuddering out his orgasm and spending himself across the surface. All while his eyes never leave you on the screen.

You made him do that.

Your hand speeds up—the circles your fingers are rubbing over your clit are becoming almost brutal and painful, even as pleasure rakes up your belly and your whole body starts to tense. You're so close. So fucking close. You didn't know it was possible to balance on that edge for so long without falling in either direction.

You can't tear your eyes away from that ruined surface or get the thought of him fucking his own fist out of your head as you keep chasing oblivion and—

This is what you do to me.

Oh.

You bury your fingers into your cunt just as your walls clench down around them, and you come undone for the second time that day. To him.

You open your mouth to cry out, to wail his name as part of your release, but it gets choked to nothing more than a thought as your climax slams into you so hard that it knocks the wind out of you. You throw your head back from the force of it. As you try to ride each pulse of ecstasy out against your fingers, the muscles in your legs tense. Then you're involuntarily pushing against your desk with your feet.

The front two legs of the chair lift off the floor.

For a brief moment, your stomach lurches and you think you're going to topple backwards. Instead, you stay like that, hovering between stability and free fall, letting a wave of fear and adrenaline wash over you. Perhaps that should have ruined this, but the additional sensations only heighten and sharpen every breathless shudder until all of your nerve endings thrum. You’ve never felt so painfully, blissfully, alive.

Once you're fully spent, you carefully let the chair fall forward, returning to its proper position on all four legs. Then you bring one of your own legs down to plant a foot onto the carpet to ground yourself and stop that feeling of weightlessness still lingering within you.

God, you're stunning. The most exquisite thing I've ever seen. You were wonderful for me.

You sit there, bonelessly draped back in your seat, sweaty, your arms hanging at your sides, with your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. And you try to smile for him anyway because, between his praise and your orgasm, you swear you’re glowing.

But you didn't scream my name.

You let out a breathless sound of protest. “Couldn't. I tried. Seeing what I do to you…it was too good, holy shit." You swallow hard and shift forward into a more comfortable position in the chair. "But I thought it, David. You were the only thing I knew while I came for you."

Mmmm, that's very good. But you're still going to do better next time. I’ll make sure of it.

"With you?" You ask hopefully.

With me.

FOR me.

Your face burns, and there's a weak twinge of arousal between your legs. Even though it's a mere shadow of what you’ve already experienced today, you’re amazed it's even possible after that.

…You still don't even know what he looks like, you think.

God, he's dangerous.

Won't you?

"Yes," you moan. "I promise I will scream your name until my voice gives out, as long as you're the one coaxing it out of me."

Yes you will.

You whimper. "When?"

Soon.

There are some things I need to take care of first. Then I will send for you.

Your heart begins to pound with nerves and anticipation. This is really happening. "How long?"

Only a few days.

A grunt of shock is ripped from your throat. "Days?!"

Now who's eager?

"I can't help it," you purr, softening at his teasing as you run your hand along your still trembling inner thigh. "I want to see you. And I want you inside of me."

You'll have that.

I'LL have that.

"How many days?" You're almost afraid to ask.

I'll have a car pick you up Monday evening.

There's a heavy drop of disappointment in your stomach. "That's three days…" 

Enough time to have all of my obligations done and taken care of. I want to be able to focus entirely on you once I have you. Like you deserve.

“But that's so long!” It's taking everything in you not to pout. You realize now you’ve been interpreting “soon” to mean you might finally get to see him, say, tomorrow. Or maybe even still tonight. It never occurred to you that it might be longer and that you’d have to wait for him.

I know, darling. I don't like it anymore than you do. And I would never make you wait if it wasn't important, but I have promises to keep.

“Alright,” you sigh. You find that you're, once again, reminding yourself that you're an adult. You can be patient.

And now that you're thinking about it, this gives you plenty of time to prepare as well. You don't have promises to keep, but you can certainly think of a few appointments you should make. When the time comes, you want everything to be perfect.

Besides, after that you’ll never have to wait again. Will you?

“No, David.” You lean forward as you stare into the camera. “Once I have you, I intend to never wait again. Because once I have you, you’re mine.”

That's my girl.

Later that night, when you go to sleep, you take your laptop with you and leave it open on your dresser, facing the bed. On your side table, you prop your phone up into its charging stand and make sure it's positioned just right as well. You want to give him two angles to enjoy this time. Then you sprawl out on top of your covers, still completely naked.

On your phone, you carefully type out, “I hope you didn't think the show was over. Because I still have more I can give you, and it would be such a shame to waste it. Enjoy, David. X”

As you hit send, you reach into the top drawer of your nightstand and pull out your vibrator. Then you settle back, and—with a desire that feels nearly insatiable now—you work several more orgasms from your clit while you gasp and moan and scream his name.

All while you know he's watching.

A/N: See? Who needs therapy when you have fanfiction?? 😌 (Christine please ignore the 🚩💕) I debated about whether or not to write a phone call with her mom, but I realized I don't actually want to give her a voice. Because this story isn't about her or even the reader's past. It's about healing from trauma, moving forward as the worst version of yourself, and falling in fucked up love with a stalker/serial killer. 😌

[lenteur]

random thoughts about castaway diva, episode one

(read more because i always get carried away lol and this post might contain spoilers)

/!\ warning: this episode contains several scenes of physical ab*se so please proceed with precaution /!\

i like that they went for animation instead of showing the actors for the opening credits

looks like they’re explaining right off the bat how the main role has ended up in an island. I like that. No guessing or explaining it further down the line.

The nostalgia hit when i saw the folding phone. I was about to call it clip clap phone so be happy that i actually found an okay-ish adjective lol

This is so nice to start the drama with a throwback and get to know the characters and where they're from, instead of the other way around. It's just a matter of preference, i know.

Wow. I didn't expect the two leads to have an ab*sive father in common. Both of their lives shattered because of the violence. Both too scared to do anything about it. They're trying to hide it from the world.

It's interesting how both choose to hide that aspect of their lives in two completely different ways. Ki ho is acting cold and indifferent, while Mok ha is always smiling and confident. I'm curious if they'll ever admit that to the other, and how they will get out of this situation. Hopefully they'll get the support they both deserve.

Mok ha finally had the courage to call the police on her dad. Good for her!!!

The most disturbing part of this though is that one of the police officers is none other than ki ho's dad. An ab*sive father himself.

I see that ki ho's father is extremely manipulative and is calling mok ha calling the police on her dad the "eighth grader" syndrome, saying it'll pass soon and trying to make everyone watching from the window think there was a "happy ending" (for lack of a better word). Just like everyone thinks he and his son (ki ho) are a great pair. This is absolutely vile and making my blood boil.

We're only in episode one and we already have so much content regarding mok ha and ki ho's relationship.

The roles suddenly got reversed. Ki ho was fighting for mok ha's dream while mok ha just abandoned all hope "thanks" to the police visiting her after her call. It's heartbreaking to see how children's hopes and dreams can be broken just like that.

Ki ho is twice as disappointed because he witnessed his father breaking another child's life. He didn't dare do anything when he saw his father with mok ha. And now he's seeing the consequences right in front of him. The burden of it all. It must be heavy on his heart.

I'm sorry but i have to pause every five minutes because this episode has given me too many emotions and I can't handle all of them at once.

Correction: I have to pause every five seconds is more like it.

The scene where she's breaking down because her classmates aren't listening to her is impactful. It's all the stress, fear and hurt talking. Reminds her how the police didn't believe her and pretended this was "just a little accident" and let it go. And now, her classmates are doing their own thing and ignoring her. That is until she literally shouts at them. Mok ha has been silenced too many times, with no one to talk to. She needs help but every time she tries to make the first time, she's shut down almost immediately.

"Do I sound like a joke to you?" - Mok Ha. The trauma of the police intervention that didn't solve the problem. She feels like she's a joke and no one will ever take her seriously, no matter how hard she tries to tell her own story.

And on top of that, she just abandoned her life long dream of becoming a singer. The only way she could show her real voice.

Poor Mok ha and poor Ki ho

It's crazy how they seemed like polar opposites at first, but then you see them being so deeply connected. Ki ho literally cries with her.

At last, ki ho is finally making the first step to help mok ha. He'll help her leave the place where they leave. It's crazy to think that the only person willing to help mok ha is a child. No adult has ever helped her, even the adults that are supposedly competent. The only person taking her seriously is ki ho, because he's also a victim of ab*se.

This episode should be called EMOTIONAL DAMAGE!!!

the way ki ho is sacrificing himself for mok ha. If both can't escape from their ab*sive fathers, he's willing to stay in cheonsam for mok ha. He wants her to pursue her dream career. If she succeeds, he'll vicariously live through her. He'd be proud of himself for helping her escape.

I was rooting for mok ha to finally be free from her father, only for him to follow her on the boat.

Seeing ki ho being completely devastated because he couldn't help mok ha no matter how hard he tried has made me cry as well.

Tin cans? In a deserted island? Really?

I was skeptical about the whole surviving alone in a deserted island because how can a literal child survive in such an isolate land with basically no knowledge? I'm a bit thrown off. I would have understood better if she met people in the island. They better show how she survived because this is making absolutely no sense.

I really hope they show us more of mok ha's "surviving alone in a deserted island" life because i'd be disappointed otherwise. I don't expect a whole episode dedicated to it but a bit more explanation would be appreciated.

The actors that played mok ha and ki ho as children deserve an oscar. Give it to them. RIGHT NOW

I'm giving this a solid 9.5/10

[xxchumanixx]

Glimpses

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, Bucky (yes, he's a warning), reader has the ability to show other people images in their head (does that make sense?), otherwise not described, spoilers for fatws

Word count: tba

Authors note: To be honest, I've been working on this for months, bit by bit. I didn't have much time to write or post something lately, and somehow, the motivation went with it. But I love this man to no end, and I had to finish this (for my sake, too). Im not a hundred percent happy with it, but we're just gonna roll with it.

I hope you enjoy it.

It gnawed at you, gripping you with a hand made of iron, it's icy fingers sending chills down your spine.

How could she do this to you?

Someone you once envied for being related to Peggy Carter, one of the founders of SHIELD, maybe one of the coolest persons to have ever existed.

Now, you couldn't help but pity Sharon Carter.

Sam nudged your foot with his, ripping you out of your thoughts. "What's up with you?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed.

Blinking at him, you tried to grasp what he was talking about, before shaking your head with a sigh.

"When Sharon was pardoned, I heard her say something I don't know what to think of..." you mumbled, biting your cheek. Sam rose a brow in return, Bucky's furrowing.

You were sitting in a private jet, a small table in front of you, with Sam sitting diagonally to your right and Bucky to your left.

"When she came out, she dialed someone, saying something about super soldiers being off the menu, weapons and 'should be something for everyone'." you recited what you had heard her say.

You had been there to congratulate her, welcome her back. But, when she stepped out the building, immediately dialing someone, you hid back in the crowd, carefully listening.

Yeah, eavesdropping wasn't nice, but something urged you to do it.

And you had been right.

"Nah," Sam made, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You must have misheard her."

Licking your lip, you shook your own head. "No, I know what I've heard."

Sam's brows furrowed, eyes trained on you. "Y/N, I'm sure you just misheard her." he repeated his words softer.

Eyes widening, your mouth was agape. "Sam-" you started, but he cut you off. "No, Y/N-" "Sam!" with a yell of his name and a slam of your hand on the table, you locked eyes, letting your power whir to life.

You could see your own eyes change color in his iris, energy flowing through you, as you forced him to see what you've seen.

Sharon left the building with a smile on her face, radiating confidence. Pulling out her phone she dialed a number, slowly walking further down the steps.

"Start lining up our buyers." she spoke into the phone, seemingly not caring enough to watch her surroundings for anyone listening. "Super Soldiers might be off the menu, but we're about to have full access to government secrets, prototype weapons, you name it. Should be something for everyone."

With that, she left, leaving you speechless.

With a gasp, you let go of Sam's mind, rapidly blinking to get the dry feeling out of your eyes.

Sam stared onto the table, swallowing. His hands trembled slightly, whilst Bucky grew impatient.

"Can I see?" he wanted to know, eagerly leaning forward in his seat. It made you chuckle, despite the dread in your stomach.

Letting Bucky enter your mind, was something different.

You weren't able to control your powers a hundred percent, which would be a risk, when letting someone in. There could be emotions or flashes of memories that could seep through, something you didn't want.

Especially not with him.

You had been in love with him for a while now, but never dared to make a move on it. Not, when he was so far out of your league.

Swallowing, you nodded hesitantly.

Locking eyes with Bucky's blue ones, you let your power come to life again, heart pounding faster.

You showed him the same thing you showed Sam, trying your hardest to concentrate only on the memory of Sharon, nothing else.

Slipping back out of it, you blinked rapidly, whilst Bucky sat frozen in his chair.

Shaking your head, you felt it deep in your chest, slowly making its way up - luckily for you, you had cut the connection already.

It was a memory you cherished deep in your heart, one of your favorites. It was Bucky, smiling happily.

Most of the time his smile didn't reach his eyes, not like it should have. He wasn't as carefree, at least not until he teamed up with Sam.

He was lying on the sofa in Sarah's house, Sam's sister. The kids had been playing with the shield, whilst Bucky was still sleeping on the couch.

You had been sitting at the small coffee table, able to see him, but he wouldn't see you at first glance.

When he woke up, softly calling out to the kids with a smile and a peace, they panicked, putting the shield back into its bag.

It had you smiling into your mug, quietly chuckling, as you sipped your coffee.

His smile was real, beautiful and rare. His eyes sparkled with joy, sunlight catching in them, highlighting the blue of his iris, as he leaned back into the cushions.

It showed the Bucky he was back in the forties, slowly peeling away layer after layer of his hardened shell.

Closing your eyes, you willed the memory away, slowly shaking your head, to get rid of it.

When your eyes opened again, looking back up at Bucky and Sam, Bucky's eyes were glued to your face.

His brows were furrowed, deep in thought. His mouth opened the slightest bit, but it closed again, like a fish.

Your own eyes widened the slightest bit, belly churning, as you realized.

The faint line connecting your minds - it was still there.

Your breathing fastened, fist clenching, as you looked at Sam, trying to come up with something to pull him into a conversation - but your mind was as blank as a wall.

Seriously, now you were able to think of nothing?

Your hands began to sweat, as you tried your hardest not to burst into tears. It was exactly what you had feared to happen, not being able to control it.

Mostly the reason you never really let Bucky enter your mind, fearing what he might find.

"Do you think-" Sam started, but cut himself off with a shake of his head. "That she's the power broker?" you returned, eager to flee into this conversation, but it was over just as fast as it had begun. "Yeah."

Bucky didn't say anything, eyes fixed on his hands that were seated in his lap.

Sam sighed, one hand swiping over his face. He was tired, you could tell. Being the new Captain America wasn't easy.

"Excuse me." you mumbled, standing up, before heading out of the room and towards the bathroom, where you locked yourself in.

You choked on a breath, fighting the tears, but soon losing. How could you be so careless? You should have known it wouldn't end well, letting him enter your mind.

But it would have been suspicious not to show him, either.

You could only hope you'd get out of this unscathed.

_____

Sam cleared his throat in discomfort, fist clenching on the table.

If he hadn't known your memories were true, he would have brushed it off with a laugh. He'd worked with Sharon before, and she never seemed like someone who would turn on her own people.

How long, til she would turn on them?

Eyes lifting, they met the side of Bucky's face. He was quiet, more than usual.

"How can she do this to us, after all we went through?" Sam asked in a mumble, ripping Bucky from his thoughts with a "Huh?".

Brows furrowing, Sam tried to analyze the man he didn't want to call friend, even though he'd become exactly that over the past few weeks.

"What's up with you?" he asked, frown deepening. Sure, Bucky had his moments where his thoughts drifted off, but not like this.

Not when you just basically fled a minute ago.

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "I don't know." he gave back, forehead wrinkling in thought.

Hell, if he could only make sense of what he'd seen.

"What happened?" Sam dug deeper, having noticed how long you two had been silent when showing him what you'd seen.

It took longer than he thought needed to.

Bucky wiped over his face.

It was like he switched bodies with you when that memory of yours slipped through. He could feel everything.

Every little emotion.

"I-" Bucky was searching for the right words as he suddenly stood. "Excuse me."

He followed into the direction you'd taken off to, causing Sam to frown even more.

He stopped in front of the bathroom door, softly knocking before the courage could have left him.

"Y/N?" he called out, heart beating unsteady. "Can we please talk?"

You flinched, perched on the toilet seat as you desperately wiped at your face. "Why?" you called out, giving your very best to sound neutral.

You could hear him hesitate, the little sounds that left his mouth that he himself didn't even notice. "Please?" he then just asked, fingers drumming on the door.

You hesitated as well, not sure if you should open the door to face your imminent death of shame.

With a heavy sigh you got up, though, shaky fingers fumbling for the lock, taking a moment longer to unlock it before it was pushed open by Bucky merging into the small bathroom, cramping the space even more.

You stumbled back, colliding with the sink.

"What was that?" Bucky wanted to know, eyes on yours, searching them for anything that gave him an answer. "What?" you gave back, deciding to act dumb.

Maybe he wouldn't notice.

Of course he would, you idiot.

His brows furrowed, a look of confusion and bewilderment crossing his features. "You know exactly what I mean, don't play dumb now, Y/N!" he shot back, not amused.

See?

Told you so.

You swallowed the lump that somehow didn't want to budge, blocking your airways. "I- I don't know." you stuttered out, mentally cursing yourself for being so reckless to let him enter your mind in the first place.

Bucky frowned even more, not sure whether to believe you or not. After all he had felt it, not sure if he really wanted to know, though.

He didn't dare to hope.

You inhaled shakily, trying to force your heart rate down, to calm yourself a little.

Easier said than done.

"Are you sure you don't know?" Bucky pressed, voice tinged with something you couldn't place. "Because I'm sure I didn't imagine what I've seen or felt."

You flinched at that.

He knew, he knew for fucks sake, and there was no way you could have made him believe that it was nothing.

To be fair, you wouldn't have believed yourself, either.

No one would feel immense happiness, content, and warmth just because of a person they saw as a friend.

Come on.

You swallowed, averting your gaze. There was no backing out now, not when Bucky literally blocked the exit with his presence and muscular body.

"You- you felt it." you mumbled, biting your cheek as your cheeks warmed up slightly, gaze glued to the floor.

Bucky huffed, searching for words for a moment. How was he to explain what he felt?

"It- it was like I was back in the forties." he began, licking his lips. "I felt content, happy. And then I saw this... this memory of yours from me. I didn't know you were there, I didn't see you. What does this mean?"

He sounded desperate, and you didn't know whether it was because he didn't want your feelings for him or if it was the exact opposite.

Your name fell from his parted lips when you didn't answer, and had you looked up into his cerulean eyes, you'd seen the desperation, too.

"I can't tell you." you eventually mumbled, biting your cheek raw. "What? Why?" Bucky gave back, eyes widening before he frowned. "Y/N, what does this mean? Please, tell me!"

You looked up at him, your own brows furrowed in a frown.

Why did he want to know so badly?

"You know what it means." you gave back, doing your best not to avoid his gaze this time. His lips parted a fraction before he shook his head. "No." he said. "I want you to say it."

You heart stumbled once more, threatening to burst from the pace it was going at.

Did he want to have something to laugh about? Did he want to make a fool of you?

Swallowing, you shook your head. "No." you breathed out. "I can't."

His gaze hardened slightly, blue irises growing darker. "Say it." he repeated himself, not going to back down.

He'd rather go back to HYDRA than let this opportunity, this chance pass.

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head again. But before you had the chance to decline once more, he said it again, this time louder. "Say it!"

"I have feelings for you!" you blurted out loudly, his agitation causing you to crack and slip up.

Suddenly, the room grew eerily silent, the ringing in your ears blocking out his harsh breathing. His heart was racing way too fast for a man his age, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

He had hoped to hear these words, after all they were the only logical explanation, yet he was speechless. Didn't know how to react.

It's never like it is in your dreams.

Especially not when a dream suddenly comes true.

You shrinked back mentally and physically, his lack of response unsettling. It made you more nervous than you already were, hands sweating as you desperately tried to keep your shit together.

Why didn't he say anything?

When you wanted to push past him, and out of the small bathroom, his metal hand wrapped around your wrist. Your sudden movement had broken him out of his stupor, and he simply couldn't just let you go.

Before you knew it, he had tugged you back in front of him, his lips pressing against yours in a searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, it was hard and rushed, as he tried to somehow tell you what his vocal cords weren't able to at the moment.

You gasped for air, not prepared for being hauled back and kissed breathless like that.

Bucky greedily took the invitation that wasn't one, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring it before it tangled with yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his own around your waist as he tugged you closer.

You tasted sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted in his life.

Gasping for breath he let go of your mouth, eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Don't go." he breathed out shakily, arms wrapping tighter around you like he was scared you'd suddenly vanish if he let go. "Please. There's so much I need to tell you. So please, don't go. I need you, Y/N."

You watched his lashes flutter as he inhaled shakily before his eyes opened. His words had your heart beating faster again, leaving you wanting more.

"What? B-Bucky-" you started, confused because you were so sure he'd reject you.

"No." he cut you off, holding your face in his hands. "I love you."

There it was, out in the open. His most vulnerable moment since HYDRA and he delved into it headfirst. "You have no clue how much I love you, how much these words and these... glimpses mean to me, doll."

You inhaled shakily, every emotion rushing through you at once.

"I just never thought you'd feel the same, deem me worthy of someone as angelic as you."

Your heart ached at his self-deprecating words.

"Bucky," you breathed out his name, shaking your head in his grip. "You're far more worthy than you think you are. You deserve everything good and more."

He grimaced slightly, still not used to being a normal human again. "That's an argument for another time." he said, sending you a crooked smile.

He didn't want to fight right now, not when he much rather wanted to pepper your skin with kisses. And that he did. He kissed everywhere he reached, ignoring your giggles of protest before his lips met yours, silencing you.

It was a feeling that quickly got you addicted.

After a few moments, you broke the kiss, and he placed your head on his chest, inahling your familiar scent.

"Was it intenional?" Bucky wanted to know after a few moments of savoring your warmth, arms circled around you.

It felt really good to hold you like that.

You grimaced slightly. "No, of course not." you gave back. "I can't always control it. Besides, I never thought you'd want me."

"Why?" he asked, confusion lacing his voice as he pulled back slightly to look down at you. "Because I'm weird." you explained, blushing as you averted your gaze. Bucky huffed, using his finger to tilt your chin back up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Baby, weird is my second name." he gave back softly. "Maybe I need a little extra weird."

You wanted to respond something, how you would love to be his extra portion weird, as it suddenly knocked on the door loudly.

"Hurry up, I need to pee!"

Tag List:

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[simpjaes]

how about when the hyung line is just too big for ur little tight cunt? need the mtl please bcs I think it'll be HOT!

hyung line + cock too big, pussy too little syndrome ™

warning: size kink, reader is described as small compared to each member, use of words like: little, tiny, small, tight, kinda dub con. note: this is not an mtl, it's just a drabble for each hyung line hottie.

★ heeseung:

Fuck.

Heeseung knew he was bigger than average but...fuck. When he brought you home from the party he honestly expected you to be able to take it. All of it in one go, really. But no. Barely half of his cock is in you and you're shaking. Clinging to him with a pained look on your face, taking in deep breaths to adjust only to moan out of pain when he tries to push in a little more.

It's kind of driving him fucking wild. Especially in the way he's used to hearing girls moan and groan about how perfectly sized he is, about how big and painful it can be. You though, you can barely fucking take it, unlike those other girls.

Goddamn.

"Yeah." He starts, looking you straight in your teary eyes as he painfully presses in further. "Gonna open that pussy up for me, aren't you?"

You frantically nod, feeling his cock reach so deep inside of you, feeling his girth nearly tear you apart. It's like with each little push, he hits a wall that should tell him to stop, but he only pushes further. Past the block and penetrating your soft and insanely tense walls.

"Tiny." He grits his teeth, pushing, pushing, pushing until he's stuffed his entire length in you. "So fucking tiny."

☆ jay:

"Just a little more," Jay coos at you, rubbing your waist as he slowly presses in. "Hold onto me." He knows well enough that it doesn't feel good for you. Not yet at least. And when he watches you shake your head, trying hard to breathe through the feeling of his thick and darkened head pushing and prodding you open, he can't help but continue to talk you through it. "No?" He whispers in his own half-moan, still pressing in, inch by inch. "I'm already almost in baby, you can take it." He's right about it too, seeing as how you've taken it before. Given, that was only once considering this is only the second time you've hooked up with him. You're not sure why you called him of all people, remembering how difficult it was to get his full cock inside of you last time and the soreness that came after. Then again, maybe it's because of his consistent texting since that night. Not even sexting either. Just gentle conversation, interesting conversation. Like maybe this doesn't need to be a hook-up sooner or later. Who knows? And it continues like this. He presses an inch in, pauses, lets your tight cunt jerk him off, then he tells you to breathe and pushes in another inch. You're so wet too, he's practically obsessed. Never has a pussy so small taken him in full like this, then again, it's not like he's ever been with someone this tight and this fucking tiny. Obsessed is right. No matter how fucking wet you get for him, it doesn't make the slide any easier, even when you're relaxed, you're still so tight around him. Just like now, where he can finally move and fuck you without holding himself back. Which is hard to do, mind you. You cling to him through each painful and bruising thrust, and he lets you. Flexing every muscle in his body so you have something to really hold on to.

And god the way you moan through the pain. He would make you cum in an instant, he thinks, with the way you start moving your own hips to match his rhythm.

The wet sound squelching, like music to his ears especially when paired with your needy whines. "Feels so good, doesn't it baby?"

★ sunghoon:

All day. All fucking day Sunghoon could do this if that's what it takes. Three weeks since you started dating, the first time you had his cock in your hand was also the first time you decided to be afraid to let him fuck you. Something so huge cannot naturally fit inside of you without him blatantly impaling you and probably landing you in the hospital. But god, does he know how to get you horny. With those pretty fingers offering just not enough to be satisfied. With his tongue swiping perfectly but never being filled to full capacity. It's the first time you've even considered letting him stick his dick in you, and arguably, you see why you avoided it until now when he finally does start sliding in. It's not that the thickness hurts, it's just that fact that the fucking slide never stops. You could have sworn he had his whole dick in you ten seconds ago, considering he fucked himself in and out of you a few times before sliding in more. The reach is deeper than you've ever felt. A sharp pain hitting you right in the center of the gut only for him to manage to push in even further. You swear he's breaking something in you and he isn't even actually fucking you just yet. "There you go." Sunghoon coos once he finally bottoms out in you, reaching his hand forward to trace his fingers along your lips. "See? You can take it, love." For just a second, you believed him. But then he started fucking moving. God, you're seeing stars and planets and heaven and hell all in one thrust. He pulls his hips back so far just to slam into you. He knows it hurts too, but he can't be gentle when you're looking like this. So small lying under him, just fucking taking it.

☆ jake:

Jake barely realized you were in pain before he felt your fingernails scratching down his back and you whimpered out a small "take it out." He pulled back to look at you in shock, rutting his hips back and forth into your swollen and glistening hole. It's only been a few seconds since he pushed in, and it's the first time he's ever been asked to take it out?! For you though, you were expecting him to take it slow. Not get between your legs and fucking sink into you without so much as letting you adjust to his size before pounding it into your cervix. He does as he's told though, sliding out just as painfully as he slid in before gripping his cock and holding it just at your entrance. "What? Why?" He asks, not realizing he had knocked the breath out of himself stuffing such a cock in that tight space. "You're...big," You look away from him, feeling embarrassed that you really just told him to fucking pull out. "Too big." Only now does Jake smile, a glint in his eye growing dark and even more aroused than he already was.

"Oh, yeah?" He smiles, teasing your hole with the head of his cock. "You don't think you can take it?" He continues, pressing right back into you and now relishing in that small, tight heat you wish he'd be gentle with. You shake your head frantically, opening your mouth in a silent sob as he uses you, slamming in and out. In, out, in, out. "You already are, babe." He grunts, hunching over to attach his lips to your nipple. "Taking it so fucking well too." You're not sure why that makes you feel proud, but it does.

[baby-yongbok]

This is How It Feels

Bang Chan Soft Thought

WC - 675 ✧ Masterlist ✧

a/n - This was typed based off of an overwhelming feeling I got while listening to This is How It Feels by d4vd and Laufey so I'm sorry if it's kinda messy. Hope you enjoy!

Chan has been dreaming of you again.

He has for a while. He's found that it gets more painful with the frequency of frames that pass his still lids in the night.

He can only describe it as an act of masochism. The epitome of pleasure and pain intertwining to create what we've all come to know as love. But Chan didn't always love you, not like this. He was able to keep you in a lighter gaze. He was able to separate you from his desires until you became the center of them all. 

It was 3:30 am when he first noticed it. He was on the phone with you, something that the two of you do when he can't sleep. You had passed out an hour ago but he stayed on the call. He listened to the soft sound of your breathing and memorized the pattern of your snores. 

You groaned and turned in your sleep and he heard it all. For a second, he held his arms open for you to slot between them. He held himself open to embrace your absent figure before he could even realize it. 

Chan stood awake that night. Staring at the ceiling with the sweet sounds of you creating storms in his busy mind. You've unearthed something new in him. His heart turned and he found something underneath.

He found love.

He was content on dry drowning through his emotions after that night. He was okay with taking the bare minimum from your soft and generous hands just to imagine that it could be more one day.

It took another night of listening to you sigh and snore through the night for him to realize that this is just a pain he'll have to deal with. Confessing is not an option in his busy mind. It would be the introduction to the end, and that would kill him. Though, he is sure that you’ll be the death of him either way.

Chan convinced himself that he's content with these phone calls. The act of falling into a deep peace beside you felt natural for him. It felt right. 

When 3:30 am snuck up on him during this call he sighed as the whirlwind picked up in his chest. 

The thoughts

The desires

The pain

The love

It all belongs to you, and you'll never know it. 

The warm and erratic fluttering against a rib cage too small to contain the swelling of his heart has become a familiar sensation on nights like these. The shadow of swirling rose colored smoke that he's been desperate to pass to you is something that he'll have to inhale by himself. 

You. This atmosphere that the two of you have created. This connection that vibrates strong through time and space has metamorphosed him in the dark hours of the night like magic.

And suddenly, he feels it spilling over. Bubbling tall and staining the fabric of his sanity. 

"You always fall asleep first..." Chan whispers into the receiver as he turns to face his phone. To face you. "I'm jealous."

He chuckles, closing his eyes as the whirling in his chest gets lighter with each word he speaks. 

"I wish I could join you... or maybe you join me. I wish you were.. here. I wish you were here." He's whispering, his heart pounding loud in his ears. Parts of him dissolve in the quiet night, he wishes you were here to fill in the gaps. 

"While you're sleeping I'm falling in love." He smiles to himself. "I never knew that this is how it would feel to fall for you."

He sighs, laying on his back now. He stares at the ceiling, imagining constellations that should have your name. 

"It's hopeless." Chan looks back over to his phone. Your soft breathing has slowed. It's quiet, and for a second, he convinces himself that he doesn't care if you hear him. He takes a leap of faith and says it. Simple and soft.

"I love you so much."

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[l0v-ly-c4t]

Movie Night - Daisuke x fem!reader

Summary: You and Daisuke have a scary movie night, but it turns out he's too scared to sleep alone + after care

Pairing: smut and fluff

T/w: smut, mentions of Anya, protected sex, full consensual sex, loss of virginity, whinny soft dom Daisuke

Wc: 3,3K

A/n: This is an AU where the shitty compan- I mean, Pony Express doesn't exist, so our boy Daisuki is on college living his best life as the lover I know he is.

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━━ ❝ It has been some time since you started crushing on Daisuke. You met him when you first arrived at this school. Being the new student is taught, and he knew it, that's why he made so much effort just so you could have friends and feel welcome. After that you guys became best friends.

Obviously, you always thought he was handsome, and kind, and funny, but something about him kept bringing you closer, leaving you in the situation you're right now: friend zone.

The worst part is that, no matter how much you try to show him that you like him, he's just too danm naive to get a hint! Urgh, this feeling is consuming you from the inside.

Little did you know that he thought of you in the exact same way you did of him. Well, not exactly "exact same way." He had his own little way.

It took him a while to realize his feelings. At first, he just thought of you as his prettiest friend. He would stare at you and be lost in your looks without knowing why. He would always try and be useful for you, being it by carrying something for you or paying you something to eat at the cafeteria. He wanted to be around you all the time, he would get bored and blue without you.

It is actually impressive how he didn't realize his feelings until very recently, when he saw you talking very closely with another boy. How to describe his feelings? It wasn't jealousy, it was more a sense of loss. He finally realized that being friends didn't mean that you would always be by his side. For that, he needed to be more than friends. THAT'S when he realized his feelings.

But then, he panicked. "What does it mean??? Do I... l-like her?" Silly little thoughts like this were frequently on his mind. Oh, if only he knew that you thought of him too...

You and Daisuke were chilling on your sofa, waiting for the other friend of yours, Anya, to show up. You had decided to make a little movie section in your house since you and Daisuke haven't been able to talk much with Anya. She's just really focused on getting her degree.

You were both on your phones. Daisuke is playing some silly mobile game, and you are just scrolling down your tumblr timeline, looking for something fun to pass the time. It was already 8 pm, and Anya hasn't given any news yet.

"Dude, she must be really busy. She didn't even send a message or something!" Daisuke says, his lips almost pouting like a disappointed kid. "Don't worry, she has a lot of work to do, we can hang out another time." You confort him.

"Yeah..." he answers. "Is just that I was so excited, I was like 'Let's watch a movie, yay, bom bom clap!!!' But now I'm just 'yeah, movies'" He emotes.

"What?"

He sights. "Nothing. Do you still want to watch a movie? Just the two of us?" He asks.

"Yes, it'll be fun! Let's watch something scary!" You give the idea. Daisuke instantly smiled at your words, thrilled to watch a super super horror movie with you.

You let him choose a movie, and after a while, deciding which one, you finally settled on a psychological horror movie. You sat by his side on the couch, eventually laying your head on his shoulders.

Daisuke didn't even notice, but he would probably have blushed if he wasn't so absorbed in the screen. If you didn't know him, you would say he was scared.

After about 2 hours later, the movie ended, and Daisuke was just too pale. "Daisuke U good? Are you scared?"

"Me? Scared? Pfff, c'mom y/n!!! I'm the thoughtest guy you know!" He said, playing it off. "U sure? I don't want you coming at my room at midnight"

"Don't worry, you'll get your well-deserved beauty sleep, and I won't bother you," he said. "Whatever you say gorgeous" you played.

You guys watched some other movies, one scarier than the previous one. I mean, scaring for him. You were just cool, but Daisuke was biting his nails and playing with his fingers the whole time. You didn't pay much attention at the beginning, but as time passed, you could literally see his nervousness.

Worried for your friend psychological state, you decide that you should both take a bath and go to sleep, even though Daisuke kept swearing he wasn't dirty enough for a bath and that he could sleep that way just fine.

Both of you cleaned up you decide is time to sleep, the clock already hitting 2am. "S-so, am I going to sleep here? In the couch? A-alone?" He asks.

"Why? Are you scared?" You tease him, resulting in him making an angry face to prove it to you that he wasn't scared. "What? Naah, I'm, like, totally fine." He says. Oh, how he regretted that later that night.

You were almost falling asleep when you heard a light knock on your room door. You got up and checked just to see Daisuke, with the puppiest eyes you had even seen on a man, standing in front of your door eith a pillow under his arm. "Daisuke," you called. "What are you doing?

"You were right, I'm scared. Can we sit and talk just so I can fall asleep?" Daisuke said, silently begging for you to let him in already. You invite him to sit on your bed, and you both stay there for a while, just chilling. You were almost falling asleep again when he started a conversation.

"So.." he said. "Are u seeing someone?"

"Why are you asking this so randomly?"

"I-i don't know, I'm just trying to break the ice ans start a conversation" he eyes you. Even though the only light comes from the moon past your windows, you can notice the little blush forming on his cheeks and top of his ears. You also blush at the sight.

"Sooo, are you seeing someone or not?" He asked again "no I'm not. What about you?" You look back at him. "No"

At that moment, being right there on your bed sitting and talking in the middle of the night. That was so good to Daisuke. He didn't know why, but just to know that you weren't seeing anyone got him full of happiness, his sleepless far gone now.

You eye him, his lips hard pressed together. This feeling is new to him. He doesn't know how to describe it. He just wants to kiss you, hug you, and be close to you. So close that your bodies become one. In a fearless act, he leans closer to you, his eyes asking for permission as your lips grow closer and closer.

When your lips touch is like heaven to him. You were coight off guard, but you followed his actions without thinking twice. The kiss is slow and passionate, and the chemistry is just right. In a slow move, he drags his hands along your arms and place them behind your neck, pulling you even closer. He couldn't believe in his own actions. He was actually kissing you!

While one of his hands is still behind your neck, caressing the hair and pulling you more and more to him, his other hand travels to your tight. He's so scared he moves in slow motion. What if you feel uncomfortable? What if you pull away from him? He's so scared, but he needs to touch you, or he'll drive himself crazy.

Your body grew hotter as you felt the warmth of his hand gently caressing your tight. A low sound scales his lips when you pull the kiss apart, leaving him with a red face and pouty lips. "Is this real?" You asked. Daisuke didn't reply, he was too embarrassed of himself to do so. It all happened so fast he didn't have the time to think straight about his actions.

The kiss was something you wished for a long time, and now that it was actually happening, you needed time to cope. To be honest, you have always imagined you and Daisuke together. You have always wished for him, craving for him silently. You wouldn't let this chance go to waste.

He stares at you with doe eyes, melting your heart. He looks so cute and so sexy at the same time that you actually feel dirty for having this kind of thought about him. Not knowing how to proceed, you both just stare at each other. For a moment, it feels like time has paused. For a moment, everything is about him and you, sitting on your bed with clumsy feelings and red lips.

"H-hey, so.. c-can we do more? Like... I want to kiss you more." Daisuke breaks the silence. You look at him, but it feels like you're looking straight to heaven. All you want to do is kiss him more. Not just that, you want him in a way you never wanted anyone before.

"S-soo... are you going to accept or... it's okay if you don't wanna, really!! A-actually, I don't even know why I'm asking, haha!" He fake laughs. His face became more redish and fluttered. He was about to pull completely away from you when you throw yourself on top of him.

You kiss him again, this time in a more needy and desperate way. You caught him off guard, but it didn't take long for him to respond to your kiss. Very gently you start to move, now sitting on his lap, never breaking the kiss as you do it.

He's overwhelmed. He can't say he never thought of you on his lap, but to actually have you there is a totally different level. He can feel himself getting harder as you get closer to him, pressing your body onto his.

Your hands go around his neck, hugging him while you press yourself on his chest. His arms hug you from your waist, caressing your back and sending you chills. He slowly lowers his hands until he reaches your butt, gently grabring it.

"Ahh, so hot" he says between kisses, making you shiver and readjust yourself on top of his laps. You start to grind on his lap, moving in a painfully slow rhythm. With his hands still on your butt you trail your kisses dawn his jawline.

He's lost in the feeling of your mouth in his neck, and just the thought of you leaving hickeys on him makes him even harder down there. How lucky was him for having a girl like you on top of him? He didn't know. He just knew he was lucky as hell.

"I-i need to tell you something.." Daisuke says. You make a signal for him to continue talking but never leaving his neck, your mouth glued to him like you need him to survive. "I'm- ah, I never... uhm, I-m a v-virgin" he finally says.

You stop the kisses, and he panics for a moment. You move back to look at him, his lips red and glimpse from the earlier kiss. You take your hand and put on his left cheek, caressing a little to bring comfort to him. "I-i'm a virgin too. Hehe" you say.

"So, like, do you want to stop here?"

"No- I mean... we c-could make it work. O-only if you want to, or course!!" You say, now being the shy one. Everything is new to you both, the feelings, the sensations, the craving, the desires: everything.

After a while, just admiring you, Daisuke comes back to kissing, not lasting long and going straight to your neck. Now, it was his turn to leave marks on you. The little noises tha scape your mouth almost making him cum right there.

The make-out is way out of control now, both of you kissing and praising each other as the clothes disappear one by one. At one point, you were only in your bra and panties sitting in front of him.

With his hand, he reaches to your arm, slowly making his way to your back. Your faces so close to each other you could count the moles in his face. "Can I take your bra off?" He asks. You nod, and he proceeds to do so.

He helps you take it out and throws it where the other clothes were thrown previously. He trails kisses down your bodies, starting from your neck and going all the way down to your clavicle. He worships you like you're the last drop of water in a desert, kissing and leaving hickeys everywhere he passes.

When he finally reaches for your boobs he can't help but stare. "Ahh, you're just so pretty~ I want you all for me," he says, looking at you.

In a bold movement, you push him down, forcing him to lay on his back while you crawl on him until you reach his lap again. For a moment, you stop what you are doing. "Wait, what about protection?"

"There in my pants, in the wallet, there is one we can use." he says. You get up quickly and gind the condom exactly where he said it was. "Do you always have this thing with you all the time? Why?" You ask coming back to him. You sit at the same position you were before.

"For moments like this." he answers, making you blush and smile a little. He smiles, too.

You look down at him, the volume in his boxes being extremely visible. "This looks painfull" you say as you help him take his boxes, leaving him full naked under you. "Oh, it is, c-can you help me?" He asks, his voice clearly more desperate than before.

You take of your last piece of clothing and open the condom. Stroking him a little before, you put it on his dick. "A-ah, that's... so tight.." he hisses. "I think you underestimated you size baby"

He blushes. "Hey, don't you think it would be less painfully if I was the one on top?" He asks

"Well, maybe... I'm not actually sure."

"Let's try then." He gets you on his arms and switches the position, now being on top. This view of you makes him feel like on cloud nine. The prettiest girl he'd ever seen all open and needy for him? Danm, he could cum just by the view of you like this.

Not being able to watch any longer, he positions himself and moves forward, his dick filling you inch by inch. The pain makes itself present, but it's not something you can't handle.

"Ah- ahh, you're so tight... shit" Daisuke says as he finally puts everything in. "Oh yes, ahh~ you're so hot, so tight, hmmm.. so fucking good"

He lay his body down, letting his weigh on top of you. You can hear his little moans in your ears as you try to get used to his length. "Danm Dai, I didn't know you were s-so big"

"S-stop it, if you talk like this I might already cum." He smiles. "A-ah, I can't believe I'm finally in you"

"I-i think.. you can move now.." You say, the pain now transformed into pleasure, making you crave for more and more of him.

He starts to push into you, the feeling consuming your senses. The extase is just too much. You actually feel like you could come right there already. "O-oh my god, ahh~"

"D-do you like it? Am I, ahh- am I doing g-good?" He asks. His voice filled with luxury, whispering right at your ear. "Y-yes, yes"

He slowly picks his pace, savoring and discovering your body. He wants to know every place you're sensible at, every move that makes you moan louder, he wants to kiss every corner of your body and make you feel so special that your would come just for him. Gosh, that's his greatest wish.

You were getting overstimulated, your clímax approaching so fast your moans started to go silent. Then, he suddenly stops. You look at him with a sad eye, a moan of protest leaving your mouth as you roll your eyes at the back of your skull.

"W-why'd you stop?"

"C-can we switch positions? Uhm, there's this one position I've always wanted to try.." he asks, his lips pouty like a little kid and his dick twitching inside you like a rock. You were in so much pleasure that you would accept anything this man asked you, so you instantly agreed.

He guides you how he wants, and you end up on all fours, with your chest glued on the bed and your ass up like a cat. He stands behind you, his eyes betraying him as he worships you. "Shit, you're so hot, you know that? Perfect, just perfect, ahh"

He positioned himself again, not sparing time for you to get used to him, going as fast as he can the moment he's inside you. He's crazy. So lost in the souce he can't make a proper sentence, he just yaps nonsense and moans desperately, seeking his hight just as he seeks your pleasure.

Your moans are like music to his ears. The more you moan, the more he knows he's good for you. "Aahhh, I don't think I'll- hmm, last any, uh longer" he moans.

He's now totally on top of you, his chest glues to your back while he leaves kisses, hickeys, and bites at your neck, making your pleasure ten times bigger. He's pushing as fast as he can, trying to make you feel as special as him.

"Ah, I-I'm gonna, ahh!" He screams. His movements become more erratic as he reaches his high. The condom becoming even more tight in his cock, now full of his liquids. You can feel his cock throb inside you, the feeling pushing you over the edge, making you both come at the same time.

The movements stop, and you just stay there trying to catch your breaths. After a while, he comes out of you and removes his condom. He lays down at your bed on his back, right by your side. You lay on your tummy and you look at each other.

"Did I do well? Was I good enough?" He asks.

"You were perfect, Dai" you reply. His eyes light, and he finally relaxes. You go closer and kiss his forehead, then his cheeks, then his nose, then you finally leave a peck at his lips. He looks at you with heart on his eyes. He's confident he's the happiest man in the world.

"So, are you seeing someone?" He asks. "Yes," you reply, "you."

After taking a bath, you both finally lay down to rest from your tiring movie night. He's hugging you from behind, leaving sugary kisses on your neck where the bruises start to appear. "Sorry I marked you, I went a little wild, hehe"

You turn to face him. "It's okay, Dai," you smile. He looks at you and throws a sad smile. You know him too danm well to recognize when something is off with him, and since he's just naturally honest, it's usually not hard to find out what it is that is bothering him.

"What happened?"

"Can I ask you a serious question?"

"Sure, go on," you reply.

"What's your favorite Pokémon?"

"Are you serious??" You ask. The sound of his laugher travellings straight to your heart.

"No, seriously now. Do you... happen to like me? Or something?" He plays with his fingers while looking down, just occasionally looking up to see your reaction. You don't even need to think before you answer him. "Yes, I do." You say.

When he was about to say something, you heard a ringtone, someone was calling you.

"It's Anya!"

"God, FINALLY!"

You accept the call. "Girl, you could have sent a message!" You sight. "It's okay, we understand. What I did all night? Ah, you know, casual things... cupcakes." Daisuke smiles by your side. "Okay, rest well, se ya!" You hang the call.

"Is my new nickname 'cupcake'?" He plays.

"Shut up."

F/n: Sorry if it looked like I was babying him, I just had this thought of him being a really sweet young guy. Also, sorry if it looked rushed, I am DEFINATLY NOT a professional, both in writing and in English. (Please tell me if I made a spelling mistake)

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iv

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions (you might laugh, you might cry, and you might just wanna punch something after this chapter), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecation in some aspect, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: So, elephant in the room....how did this get past 11k when other chapters are significantly shorter? Well...I had ideas? I'm sorry!! 🫠 ANYWAY more angst in this chapter. Sorry not sorry for what you will consume here. I honestly love this chapter so much though! Okay, I won't say any more bc spoilers are cool but not in my fic! (hehe) Enjoy! 🥰

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Numb.

It’s the only word you can rummage up to describe the sudden shift in your demeanor. You’d think one’s typical response to their ex-husband’s drunken confession would be one of confusion, anger, hurt, or the like.

But you’ve gone stone cold instead, barely able to feel the steaming hot water that kisses your skin from within the tub. The room seems to have become a bit of a haze too, your vision blurring as you grip your cell phone in your hand.

The absurdity of it all—the man who handed you divorce papers now professing his love—feels like a cruel joke. The sheer impossibility of the situation is almost laughable, yet you can't even bring yourself to do that at this point. You've exhausted all of your emotional resources.

You’re unsure how many seconds pass before his voice calls your name again.

“__? Are you still there?” His voice is a muffled echo in your mind. It sounds so far away, though you know he’s right here on the other end of the line.

"Honestly Jungkook…I don’t know what you expect me to say.”  The words come out slow, measured, and almost emotionless.

There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of his confession. "I guess—I'm not sure either. But I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you everything."

“You're drunk. You realize that, right?"

“I had a few beers, yeah," he admits. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. I miss you, __, a lot."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re back in the past, back when those words would have meant the world to you. But now, they feel hollow, devoid of the warmth they once carried. And how can they not? You tethered yourself to your ex-husband for three years, learned his patterns, became acquainted with his needs, and danced with his indifference. In the end, the result is always the same, and this time is no different. By morning, he'll likely forget everything he's ever said to you and return to his normal habits.

You take a deep breath, your head resting on the cool porcelain tub, and close your eyes. "I can’t do this," you say quietly. "Not now."

"It's late. I understand-"

"No," you interrupt, voice firmer, "you don't understand, Jungkook. You don't understand me and you never have. I'm hanging up now."

"Please don't. I know I've hurt-"

"Stop. Do you know how patronizing that sounds to me? Please don't call this number again."

"But... I love you, __," his voice is barely a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Goodbye, Jungkook." You end the call before another word can drop from his lips, or yours for that matter. It's time you accept that you are never more than an impulsive decision, a temporary solution, and an item on his agenda. Tonight's conversation solidifies that for you.

Despite being sleep-deprived the next morning, you refuse to let fatigue keep you from fulfilling your promise to visit Taehyung at the hospital. You've been anxious about him all night, tossing and turning without respite. The weight of your ex-husband's drunken confession added to your restlessness as well. Nevertheless, you push it out of your mind as you bound out the front door.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by an abundance of flowers, cards, and thoughtful gifts scattered around Taehyung’s hospital room. One bouquet on the windowsill catches your attention in particular—its familiar scent of lavender is instantly recognizable.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind you. You turn to see Dr. Min entering the room, Taehyung’s chart in hand. He seems more lively than last night, his expression noticeably brighter with a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” you reply. “I’m guessing these are from Taehyung’s fans and colleagues?”

He nods. “Indeed. Lavender is a calming scent. It’s no wonder people chose it for him.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly before he continues, “My girlfriend loves it too. She says it helps her relax after a long day.”

The comment is unexpected yet sweet. You notice the suppressed grin and the warmth in his eyes easily, signaling his deep affection for her. You wonder how it must feel to love someone so purely and without restraint. Before the thought lingers, your gaze shifts involuntarily to the man on the hospital bed, still asleep. Though the bandages are gone and his breathing is stable, your concern deepens as you take in his nearly still form.

“How’s he doing?” you ask, moving closer to his bed. Your heart tightens with each step as the cuts and burns on his face become more visible.

“He’s lucky,” Dr. Min says, walking to the opposite side of the bed, his tone growing serious. “He has multiple rib fractures, a mild concussion, and a few burns, but it could have been worse. Taehyung is stable now, and we’re monitoring his progress closely.”

“How long will it take for him to heal?”

“His face burns are only second-degree, so they should heal in a couple of weeks. The concussion should also resolve with ample rest and by avoiding strenuous activity—both physical and mental.”

“Which means he won’t be able to act for a while?” you ask, reading between the lines.

“Afraid not,” Dr. Min dismisses the idea. “Hopefully, his projects can accommodate his absence.”

“What about his rib fractures? I imagine those will require the most attention.” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, knowing Dr. Min will likely need to repeat everything to Taehyung later, but you can't hold back. After all, you made a promise to yourself last night that you'd ensure he'd be alright.

“Yes," Dr. Min answers carefully, "they could take up to three months to fully heal. We recommend applying ice for 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. As long as he remains stable over the next few days, he can be discharged to continue his recovery at home." He pauses, allowing you to process the information before continuing. "It's crucial that he rests. Even if he feels bursts of energy, he needs to let his body heal. Light activities like breathing exercises and short walks are fine, but he should avoid intense exercises until we give the all-clear.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing Dr. Min’s detailed prognosis. Taehyung’s condition sounds serious but manageable. After such a traumatic accident, it's clear he'll need months to heal. Getting him to adhere to the doctor's orders will be challenging, given his profession and active social calendar. However, if you need to be the one to remind him, you will.

“I’ll make sure he follows your recommendations,” you assure Dr. Min, your voice tinged with concern.

“I have no doubt,” Dr. Min replies with a reassuring smile. “You know, you're the first person who’s shown up for him both last night and today. Aside from that young man who came in briefly. Namjoon, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond slowly, the revelation catching you off guard. “He works as my secretary but he's also a good friend of Taehyung's. His family really hasn’t come in yet?” You circle back to Dr. Min's first point with a sense of urgency.

You wouldn't normally be this insistent on the matter; however, past conversations with Taehyung have revealed how much he cherishes his family, often sharing stories about their reunions with warmth and enthusiasm. With such a loving family, you’re taken aback that they haven’t shown up yet. Then again, his accident was sudden, and there could be various reasons for their delay. Do they even know about his accident, for that matter?

“They called, of course, but you’re the first to actually come in,” Dr. Min clarifies, his gaze thoughtful as he responds to your concern. "You must be quite an attentive boss to show this level of care for your colleague."

There's an underlying suggestiveness laced in his tone, but you're quick to brush it off, redirecting the focus to Taehyung’s condition. “It’s the least I can do, given what he’s going through,” you say, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a valuable member of our team, and I want to make sure he gets back on his feet as soon as possible.”

Dr. Min's eyes twinkle, as if holding back further commentary. “Even from a professional standpoint, not everyone would go to such lengths for a coworker. He’s fortunate to have you.”

You feel a slight flush as his subtle implications continue. “Well, I just…care about his well-being. Besides,” you glance back at Taehyung, your expression softening more than you intend, “I know he'd do the same for me.”

For a few short breaths, Dr. Min remains silent as your attention remains fixed on your colleague. “I need to check on a few other patients so I’ll leave you two alone for now," he finally says, breaking the silence. “I'll be back to check in on him again later, but if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, the nurse is nearby."

With a nod and a soft "thank you," you watch Dr. Min exit the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung once more. After settling into a chair beside his bed, you silently observe the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breathing is a small comfort amidst his vulnerable state. Despite everything, you're glad he's going to be okay.

As each minute passes, nurses come and go, and the hum of activity outside the room gradually fades into a background murmur. You had only planned to stay for an hour this morning, but time seems to slip away as the clock now nears 1 p.m. You had hoped Taehyung would be awake by now, but he remains still.

After a brief sigh, the thought occurs to you that you don't have to spend so many hours here, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. It's the weekend, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing instead. Dr. Min could easily call you the moment Taehyung wakes up. But something in your conscience urges you not to leave. Just give it another hour, you think. If he isn’t awake by then, you can come back tomorrow.

Suddenly, a slight movement catches your eye. Taehyung's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. You nearly missed it with how lost you were in your thoughts.

Leaning forward with nervous relief, you softly call his name. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly, his eyes blink open. He turns his head slightly, gaze eventually finding yours, and you feel momentarily transfixed. It's unlike you to respond this way, but you had forgotten how piercing and comforting his eyes could be. A genuine smile immediately spreads across his face once your eyes meet, though not as boxy as usual due to his condition. Nevertheless, it's encouraging to see him awake and responsive.

“Hi," his voice is strained but recognizable. "It's...nice to see you."

“The feeling's mutual,” you respond gently. “How are you feeling?”

He shifts slightly, wincing a bit. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he mutters. “I’m sore all over.”

“You had a close call, but you’re in good hands now. Your doctor, Dr. Min, says you'll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while. He was here earlier this morning, but he'll check in with you again soon.”

"You..." He hesitates, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You've been here since morning? What time is it now?"

"Oh, uh, it's around 1 in the afternoon," you say, gradually realizing the weight of your words. You consider whether or not to tell him the full extent of your stay. “I got here a few hours ago. Don’t worry.”

Taehyung nods slightly, a mix of gratitude and concern evident in his expression. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “I wasn't sure if I'd be alone.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his words, your throat tightening. Before you can ask what he means, he continues, “I must have taken a lot of your weekend from you.” His tone is apologetic, and your heart aches. Here he is, lying on a hospital bed, in pain and vulnerable, and he’s worried about inconveniencing you.

“I'm glad to be here,” you reassure gently. “I promise, you’re not alone. A lot of people care about you.”

Taehyung glances around, taking in the gifts and flowers scattered throughout the room. “From my fans, I’m guessing?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.

“And your colleagues too,” you reply. “We all want to see you get better." Taehyung returns his gaze to you, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Neither of you says anything, which unsettles you.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, the question coming out more hurriedly than intended.

“I drifted in and out for most of the night. It’s hard to get comfortable,” he admits, "I think I could still hear a lot around me. It felt like someone was holding my hand for a few minutes too, but I’m not sure how much of it was real or just dreams, though.”

Oh shit. You weren't expecting that answer.

The possibility that Taehyung might have heard you talking to him last night shouldn't be that embarrassing, yet your mind races with thoughts of what he might have heard or understood in his semi-conscious state. Not only did you share more than you probably should have, but you also touched his hand to feel his pulse, and he felt it.

“Well, um, I'm sorry to hear you had a rough night. You should rest more,” you suggest, trying to compose yourself. "I should get going anyway and let you sleep.” You begin standing from your seat but don't get far before the gentlest of touches brush against your wrist. When you look at Taehyung, he quickly retracts his fingers, concerned he overstepped.

"Shit, I'm sorry, __. I didn't mean to grab at you like that," he says softly. "It's just...would you mind staying with me a little longer, please? I'd really appreciate the company."

You can hear the yearning in his request. It's clear that he doesn't want to be alone, and you don't blame him, especially after the accident he's endured. Settling back into the chair, you agree to stay a bit longer, perhaps another half hour, before heading home; you realize you haven't eaten lunch yet.

"So, how are you doing?" he asks. "We haven't talked in bit."

His question triggers a flood of thoughts, the most recent interaction with your ex-husband being one of them. Up until now, you've managed to push his drunken call out of your mind, preferring to focus on Taehyung instead. However, Jungkook's unexpected confession still throws you for a loop. It's not that you're riddled with the need for clarity on its validity, especially since you don't believe him anyway. How could he claim to love you when he also admits he doesn't understand his own feelings? On top of that, being drunk while doing so—it doesn't make sense.

No, the real question now is what happens next. How do you proceed? Will he try to reach out again? The way he asked if you still loved him before you ended the call weighs on your mind even now.

You know you'll need to discuss this with Melody during your next therapy session.

Before you spiral further, you decide to steer the conversation away from personal matters and opt for a safer topic.

"The company is doing well," you reply with a smile. "The new campaigns we've put out recently have been pretty successful. Although," you add, a hint of curiosity in your tone, "the team has missed your frequent drop-ins, especially Namjoon." If you're honest with yourself, you've missed them too.

"How is he? Namjoon?"

"He's okay, but he's been concerned for you," you answer carefully. "When we heard the news, we came to see you together, but he was quite affected. He promised to visit once you woke up."

"So," Taehyung takes a moment to process. "That was this morning, right?"

"No, actually, it was yesterday."

There's a brief, awkward silence as you sense Taehyung might be thinking the same thing you are—about your presence last night. Surprisingly, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he eyes you curiously, biting down on his lip slightly.

"I meant to stop by last week," he admits. "But we were wrapping up the final scenes of my film shoots. The producers were eager to finish them. I'm just thankful we got them done. I wanted to spend a day riding my bike along a scenic route until... well, until all of this happened. I don't remember much, but I'm just grateful Tan wasn't with me."

"Tan?" you ask, curious now.

"Yeontan, my pomeranian," Taehyung explains with a soft smile. "He means the world to me. My parents take care of him when I'm busy with filming. I was actually planning to drive up and visit them this weekend. And, of course, bring Tan back home with me. They live pretty far from here, so it's better that I go up to them if I can."

Well, that answers the question about his parents not being here yet, you think to yourself.

As Taehyung speaks, you can see a flicker of fondness and relief in his eyes when he mentions his dog. It must have been months since he last saw him.

"I bet you miss him a lot," you comment softly, "Tan."

"I do," he admits with a slight smile, "but I know he's being well taken care of. Hopefully, I can see him soon. And my parents too."

"I understand that feeling," you reply, nodding thoughtfully. "Pets have a way of becoming family, don't they? I had a cat named Evie when I was growing up. She was a feisty little thing with green eyes, always getting into mischief. We got her from the streets and she was so slim, but it didn't take her long to beef up with all the treats we gave her. Whenever I was feeling down, she would curl up next to me, as if she knew. It's funny how they have that kind of intuition, isn't it?"

Taehyung listens intently, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment at your tangent. It's one of the few times you've shared something personal about yourself that wasn't work-related. Feeling like you might have overshared, you decide to stop, assuming Taehyung isn't interested in knowing that much.

You chuckle inwardly at yourself.

Jungkook was your husband for three years, and he never seemed to care about such personal details.

I—" you start, intending to apologize, but Taehyung interrupts.

"Did you have any other pets?" he asks, curiosity piqued.

You chuckle softly, reminiscing. "Yeah, we had... uh, god, you don't want to know how many pets we had."

"Try me," his eyes become playful, yet there's a seriousness behind them, like he really wants to know. It's unfamiliar.

"Alright," you chuckle, "aside from Evie, there were three other cats. Calvin and Misha were the adventurous ones, always climbing trees, while Pip was the cuddly lap cat. Then there were two dogs: Toby, our sneaky Chihuahua, and Bella, a terrier who growled at everyone. Oh, and we had three rabbits too. Cute, but also feisty."

Taehyung laughs, "I sense a theme going on."

"What theme?"

"Well," he grins, "It seems like your household was filled with some strong main characters."

You chuckle at his joke. "Yeah, our house was never quiet, that's for sure. Each one had their own personality and quirks."

"You don't have any now though? Pets, I mean," Taehyung asks.

"Sadly, I don't," you reply with a hint of regret. "The company takes up a lot of my time, and I don't think it would be right to leave a pet alone for extended periods. I might consider getting another cat, but right now, focusing on running the company leaves me with little spare time. I miss having them around though."

Taehyung mulls over your word carefully. “If I ever get out of this hospital...maybe I—”

Before he has the chance to finish, the hospital room door opens, and Dr. Min enters, his expression serious yet composed. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, not expecting to see you still here and Taehyung awake. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins, glancing between you and his patient. “It’s good to see you up and looking a bit better."

Dr. Min approaches Taehyung's side, opposite to you. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

Taehyung's demeanor shifts instantly, his playful expression fading as he turns to answer. “Pretty sore, honestly,” he replies.

Dr. Min nods. “Let’s run a few checks to see how you’re doing.”

Sensing this is your cue to leave, you rise from your chair and reach out to touch Taehyung's hand. But you stop yourself short. Something about performing the physical action while he’s fully conscious instills a flutter of nerves within you. Instead, you gently tap his shoulder, causing him to meet your eyes. “I think I'll be going now, but it was nice talking to you,” you say softly. "Was there something you wanted to say earlier, though?"

He pauses for a moment before replying, his expression reminiscent of the time a few weeks ago when you declined his dinner invitation. You still don’t understand why he seemed somewhat disappointed; it's not like it was a date. He had made it clear he wanted to go out as colleagues. The only reason you declined was because you didn’t want him feeling pity for you, or the struggles that came with the divorce.

"It's okay, we'll have to save that conversation for another time," Taehyung's voice brings you back to the present. "Enjoy the rest of your day, __. Thanks again for staying with me."

"Of course," you reply, then turn to Dr. Min. "If you wouldn't mind letting me know when and if he can be discharged, I'd appreciate it. And Kim Namjoon too, since we're both nearby." Dr. Min nods in agreement. With that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the room.

“He said what?!” Your best friend Jimin almost shouts through the video call, eyes wide with disbelief. You’ve just finished recounting your ex-husband's unexpected, drunken confession from the previous night. Jimin, who already holds a deep-seated grudge against Jungkook, looks livid.

“He had the nerve to say that to you? While he was drunk?” Jimin continues, his hands clenching into fists.

You nod, feeling a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “Yeah, I told him not to call my number again and he hasn't contacted me since.” As expected, he likely forgot all about it.

“Good,” Jimin declares with a fierce protectiveness, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You don’t need that kind of drama in your life, especially not from him. And if he even thinks about calling you again, just say the word, and I'll come down there and handle it personally.” He emphasizes 'personally' with such intensity that it makes you giggle for the first time tonight.

“Thanks, Jimin,” you say, a warm feeling spreading through you at his unwavering support. “I’m just trying to move on, focus on work, and other things.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and he nods firmly. “You're incredibly strong, __. Are you really okay though? It was a huge blow for him to make a confession like that and even though I dislike him, I know you still have some lingering feelings for him. I'm not a fool to believe you're unaffected.”

You take a deep breath, appreciating your best friend's perceptiveness. “It’s complicated. I’m trying so hard to move past everything, especially with Melody's help, and then he just…throws that at me. It’s like he’s trying to pull me back into his mess.”

Jimin’s eyes are filled with concern. “You don’t owe him anything. Remember that. He made his choices, and you have every right to move on without his baggage.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “It’s just…easier said than done. But I’m working on it.”

“You’re doing great,” Jimin reassures, his voice gentle. “And you have every right to focus on yourself now. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

You nod, feeling a bit lighter with the support. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“I'm always here for you love,” he says, his protective demeanor softening into a warm smile. “Now, enough about that idiot. How’s everything else? Work? Taehyung? Everyone at the office is talking about his unfortunate accident, poor sucker.”

At the mention of your colleague, you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks. Did the heaters in your apartment just turn up or something?

“He’s slowly recovering," you answer. "I saw him this morning and we talked for a bit. He’s... he’s been through a lot.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, “You saw him yesterday too, right? And if my memory serves, you were at the hospital with him until the afternoon. I remember I texted you to see if you were free to call earlier than planned. Something you'd like to tell me?” A teasing grin suddenly spreads across his face, and you shake your head, knowing exactly what he's insinuating. It's like talking to Dr. Min all over again.

“Seriously, Chim, no, it's not like that," you deny instantly, heart racing a little. "He's been my company endorser for a little over six months now, and he’s been nothing but kind to me. With everything he’s been through, I just want to make sure he'll be okay. I feel somewhat responsible for him. Maybe I'm crazy.”

“Responsibility, huh?” Jimin smirks, unconvinced of your denial. “Sure. Because ‘responsibility’ usually makes people blush.”

You wave off his suspicions, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I’m not, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing your teasing, that'd be great."

“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you ask me, it sounds like more than just responsibility. Taehyung seems like a sweet guy, and you care about him. And I sense he feels the same way about you. Don't think I forgot about his little dinner request weeks back.”

You chuckle, brushing off his suspicions. “Oh, come on, enough. Believing that Kim Taehyung has any kind of interest in me is like believing that Jungkook loves me. It’s unfathomable. Taehyung's a colleague, that’s all.”

“Okay, excuse me? Unfathomable?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone help! My best friend is selling themselves short, again. __, you’re amazing, and anyone, including Taehyung, would be lucky to have you. That ex-husband of yours was an idiot, but just because he couldn't see what he had doesn’t mean others can’t.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but Jimin’s words hit a soft spot. “Chim, you're sweet, but I'm just saying that Taehyung is on a completely different level. I’m just me... a 30-year-old divorcee with a half-decent startup.” Those alone are enough to have any man steer clear of you.

“Stop this, __. You're much more than that, and it's pretty damn incredible,” Jimin insists, his voice firm. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. That’s not something to brush off. Taehyung sees that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

You sigh, feeling a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “I appreciate it, Chim. But let’s just drop it, please?”

“Alright, I won't push it," he concedes gently, "just know I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably explode from all that bottled-up stress,” he jokes, making you laugh again. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Just keep taking it one step at a time, and call me if you need anything!”

As the call ends, you’re left with a lot to think about. Jimin’s words echo in your mind, and for a brief second, you find yourself wondering if maybe your best friend is right—that perhaps you do care about your colleague more than you’re willing to admit.

Well, either way, it doesn't matter; you've got enough on your plate as it is.

Starting with the stack of papers laid out on the coffee table, work you brought home that's awaiting your attention. It's a critical deal for your startup, one that could secure much-needed funding and propel your business to the next level.

Sighing softly, you reach for your laptop and open the latest project proposal.

You start your Sunday as you always do, with a book in hand, heading to your favorite café. It’s a ritual that’s been with you since your teenage years, and today, you feel a desperate need for its familiar comfort. After wrapping up the project proposal late into the night, your brain craved a break.

Entering the quaint café, you’re greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Finding a cozy spot by the large window, you settle in for a day of reading, occasionally looking up to observe people passing by outside.

Hours slip away unnoticed in the serene atmosphere, lost in the pages of your book. Somewhere along the way, mid-sentence, your thoughts subconsciously drift to a conversation with Taehyung weeks before his accident—the day of your six-month anniversary.

You remember how he mentioned his interest in books that day, leaving you curious about what he enjoys reading. You imagine he might be into classic authors like Charles Dickens or Oscar Wilde. Then again, you might be mistaken.

Refocusing on your book, you manage to read another paragraph before thoughts of Taehyung intrude again. Did he have any company today? You quietly hope Namjoon paid him a visit. "Okay, __, calm down," you tell yourself, "Taehyung will be fine, and Namjoon definitely would have visited him now that he's awake." With a determined effort, you return to your book.

It isn't until the sun begins its descent that you decide it's time to pack up your things and head home. Passing by the hospital on your way, a sense of restlessness tugs at you once more. Should you stop and see Taehyung, even if only for a few minutes? The thought lingers, but then you recall Dr. Min's pending update on his discharge status. Maybe it's best to wait for his confirmation.

You continue driving, but the concern refuses to leave your mind. Eventually, you make a decisive turn, heading back towards the hospital. It wouldn't be as lengthy as last time—just a quick visit to check on how he's doing.

When you arrive at the hospital, you hesitate for a moment outside the entrance. It's Sunday evening, and visiting hours are likely limited. You check your phone quickly to see if Dr. Min has sent any updates, but there's nothing new.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to go in anyway.

Taehyung is awake when the nurse leads you to his room, casually flipping through a magazine. He looks up, his expression softening into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. I hope it's okay."

"It's more than okay," he replies warmly, setting the magazine aside. "I'm happy to see you."

You nod, feeling relieved that he isn't disturbed by your presence.

"Though, in all honesty," he continues, "I didn't expect you back today."

"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay," you admit quietly, taking a seat nearby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, just a bit sore still," he says sincerely, his gaze meeting yours. "What about you? How's your Sunday been?"

"Quiet," you respond with a small smile. "Spent most of it reading at a café, and then decided to stop by here."

"Really?" His interest piqued, he asks, "Which one? Sometimes I do the same thing when I have some free time. Or, I'll read at the beach too. It's relaxing."

"Well, have you tried the one on Willow Street? I've been a regular there since I was 16."

"No... I'm not familiar with that one," he admits, "I usually go to the one on 5th."

"5th? You know, I don't recall a café on 5th, unless..." you pause, realization dawning, "oh no," you blurt out unintentionally.

"What?" Taehyung's eyes twinkle with amusement at your spontaneous reaction. "Have you been?"

You hesitate to answer, not wanting to risk offending him.

"Yes..."

"And?" Crap, you were hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

"Um... it's okay," you reply simply.

"What? Just okay?" Taehyung exclaims, feigning offense. "Their coffee and tea are decent, and they have those comfy armchairs by the window."

"I know, but there's just something about it," you reply with a playful shrug. "Maybe it's the lighting, or maybe I'm just picky."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Maybe I'll check out this Willow Street café sometime. You've been going there for years, so it must be good."

"Well, I highly recommend it." You can't help but feel a bit smug, though you try to keep a straight face. It's just nice to have someone take your suggestion seriously. "You'll have to tell me your review of the place if you go."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully in reply, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. You look away, pretending to straighten your jacket. Why is he staring like that? You're not used to being looked at without some sense of hostility.

Just as you begin to feel a bit awkward, the door swings open, and a nurse peeks inside.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says kindly, "but visiting hours are over for the evening."

You glance at your watch, surprised at how quickly time has flown. "Oh, okay," you reply, a touch disappointed. "I'll be heading out then, thank you."

Once the nurse leaves, you direct your focus back to Taehyung. He smiles understandingly, sitting up a bit straighter. "Thanks for stopping by," he says warmly.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, gathering your things. "Did Dr. Min mention having you discharged any time soon?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Might be here for a couple more days."

You nod, feeling sympathy for his extended stay. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Taehyung assures you with a grateful smile. He watches as you make your way to the door, but just before you can twist the metal knob, he speaks up agian. "Uhm...if you have time tomorrow, I wouldn't mind if you came in again. It was nice to...chat."

For the first time, Taehyung seems to stumble over his words. As someone who's naturally charismatic, not to mention a skilled actor, there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.

When you turn your head to glance back at him, his smile has faded, replaced by a hopeful look, hands gently clutching the blankets.

"Sure," you agree to his innocent request, somehow unable to resist. "I'll try to stop in tomorrow if I can."

His boxy smile returns instantly as he bids you one final goodnight.

As you walk out of the room, that same smile lingers in your mind—you're glad you decided to come by.

In the days that follow, you find yourself at Taehyung's hospital bed every evening after work. Initially fulfilling his wishes, you gradually realize you've grown fond of his company. Taehyung turns out to be easy to talk to, a good listener who encourages questions you wouldn't normally ask within office walls. Here you are again, immersed in yet another spontaneous conversation that neither of you minds.

"So, what's it really like?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your voice. "Being an actor? And what about kissing strangers? I've heard some co-stars end up together after playing an onscreen couple for so long."

Taehyung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Being an actor is both exhilarating and challenging," he begins, reflecting on his experiences. "Kissing scenes... well, they're not as glamorous as they seem on screen. There are a lot of technical aspects to consider, like camera angles and timing. As for getting involved with co-stars outside of filming, I wouldn't be familiar with that. I prefer to keep those lines pretty separate."

You listen intently, fascinated by his insights into a world so different from your own. But one thing sticks out to you—how does he handle kissing scenes if he were to be in a relationship? Wouldn't that get complicated?

"I often wonder what I'd do if I had a partner," Taehyung muses suddenly, his voice thoughtful, as if sensing your unspoken question. "About the kiss scenes, I mean. I haven't actually dated for a while." Really? You think, he cant be serious...

"I'd imagine they'd be understanding since it's part of the job," you offer, trying to match his contemplative tone.

"Is that how you'd respond?" Taehyung's question catches you off guard.

"Me?" you ask, feeling slightly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I'm just curious. Would you be okay with that?"

"Uhm... well, honestly, probably not," you admit, feeling a bit awkward. "I think I'd have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. I'd kind of feel like I was sharing my partner. I don't want to share like that."

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you mentally chastise yourself. You definitely said too much.

To your surprise, Taehyung merely gives a small smile in response. "I think I'd feel the same," he says softly.

The subject ends there, as the conversation soon shifts to his latest project instead—a romantic comedy series titled with a playful nod to a four-leaf clover.

"You know, I've never seen a four-leaf clover in my life," you admit with a slight chuckle.

Taehyung laughs softly, his eyes brightening. "Really? They're supposed to bring good luck, you know."

"Good luck, huh? I guess I've never had the pleasure," you replied with a grin.

"Well, then it's settled," he declared with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll find one for you once I'm out of here," he promises warmly.

You smile, exchanging a silent moment before hitting him with your next question. "Do you watch your own shows or movies?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Taehyung's expression shifts subtly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Honestly, I don't," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I guess I've always felt a bit awkward seeing myself on screen. It's strange, right?"

You reassure him with a smile. "It's not so far-fetched, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. You're talented, Taehyung. I'm sure your performances are amazing."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully but then quirks an eyebrow at you. "But have you actually seen any of my work? It's a little cheesy."

You hesitate, feeling a touch sheepish. "Honestly, no," you confess. "I've never watched any of your shows or movies. But I will!"

A flicker of déjà vu crosses Taehyung's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's funny," he murmurs. "I feel like I've heard those exact words before, recently."

You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood. He can't be referring to that night you spoke to him while he was asleep, right? "Maybe it's just a sign that I need to catch up on all the great acting I've been missing out on," you quip, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness.

Taehyung grins, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I'll hold you to that. You'll have to give me your honest review."

"Deal," you agree with a nod. "So, as much as I hate to cut this short, I think I'm going to have to get going now."

"I understand, it's past 6:30 pm. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," you reply warmly. "Get some rest."

By Thursday afternoon, you finally receive the long-awaited call from Dr. Min, informing you that Taehyung will be discharged the next morning. You're relieved that Taehyung is healthy enough to continue his recovery at home. Seeing him yesterday, he looked the best he's been since his accident. However, a small part of you feels annoyed that Dr. Min didn't call you—he called Namjoon instead.

It was an ordinary afternoon when your secretary's phone rang. Namjoon was crouched over at his desk, concentrating on a number of spreadsheets just moments before. You remember leaping over to him as soon as you heard the words, "he's ready for discharge tomorrow," leave his lips.

It's now Friday morning, and you're standing in front of your secretary's desk.

"So, you're off to pick up Taehyung now?" you ask, as casually as you can. You do your best to ignore the lingering irritation growing inside you.

"Yeah," your secretary finally replies, glancing up from his screen. "I'll drive over to the hospital in about half an hour."

"Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. So what if Namjoon gets to pick him up instead of you? It's fine, you should get over it.

It's just a little odd that Dr. Min chose to call Namjoon instead of you though. You know for a fact you've been much more involved with Taehyung's well-being than he has.

Of course, Taehyung and Namjoon are good friends, but your secretary has only gone to see him twice over the past week his buddy's been in the hospital. You've been there every day, so wouldn't it make sense that you be called first?

Evidently not.

Namjoon will be taking Taehyung home, and you likely won't be seeing him at all today. In fact, you're not even sure when you'll see him next. Technically, you have his address stored away in an HR file, but you're no creep. And you most certainly are not about to show up at his place unannounced.

It's not like Taehyung has texted you today either. Not even a quick update on his condition.

"Um..." Namjoon starts, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Is there something else you wanted to say? I feel like you're kinda hovering over me now, to be quite honest."

"Oh, sorry," you respond, stepping back a bit. You didn't realize you were staring at him, wordless, for longer than normal. "Nothing else. Drive safe."

As if seeing right through you, Namjoon's expression softens. "If you want to see how Taehyung is, you can just text him. I'm sure he'll respond to you."

"No, it's okay," you quickly dismiss the suggestion. You don't want to bombard a man who's just getting out of the hospital with your texts. You'll leave him alone to rest.

Namjoon gives you a knowing look, eyeing your slightly hesitant state. "I'm serious, boss. Text him. You've been at his side this entire week, so if there's anyone who'd be more deserving of knowing what's up, it’d be you."

Deserving? That's a bit far, is it not? Yes, you've been visiting him, but it's not like you saved his life or anything. It's not that big of a deal. You just wanted to...make sure he was okay.

"I—When did you decide to call me boss again?" you switch subjects, but Namjoon remains unaffected.

"Text him," Namjoon says for the final time before reaching for his keys in his desk drawer. "I gotta get going, but I'll be back after I drop Tae off."

"Tae?" You haven't heard him called that before.

"Yeah, it's kinda a pet name. Sorry, I started calling him that once we became friends, so it slips out here and there. It's like second nature now."

"Got it," you nod, a bit disappointed. Maybe you weren't as close to Taehyung as you thought. "Make sure he gets home okay," you finish.

"I will." Namjoon gets up from his desk and heads out of the office. You turn around and return to your own office once he's out of sight.

While Namjoon is out, his phone rings incessantly. You find yourself getting up from your desk multiple times to take calls. By the afternoon, you're exhausted from the constant interruptions.

Maybe you should consider giving the poor man a raise.

Before the thought fully develops, his phone rings again. You don't even bother checking the caller ID anymore; you simply pick up the phone and answer in your sweetest voice.

"__? I thought I’d be hearing Namjoon first... hey," his voice is hesitant. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

"Jungkook," you reply cautiously, instantly recognizing his voice. "Why are you calling my work phone?"

"I... I didn't know how else to reach you. Can I come in or can you come into the parking lot? I have something to give you."

You pause, feeling a rush of unease. You haven’t spoken to Jungkook since last Friday when he called you out of the blue. Honestly, you hoped you wouldn’t hear from him, especially after telling him not to call again. It's strange that he keeps finding ways to show up unexpectedly.

"What is it you need to give me, Jungkook?" you ask bluntly, "I'm very busy."

There’s a brief silence on the other end before he answers, "It’s... It’s something personal. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Please, can you just come down for a moment?"

You weigh your options, torn between curiosity and apprehension. His unpredictability lately has left you unsure of what to expect. "Jungkook, I really don’t think—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice sounding more urgent. "I promise it won’t take long."

Taking a deep breath, you decide to handle this with as much grace as you can muster. "Fine. I’ll be down in a minute."

You end the call and sit back, trying to steady your thoughts. His sudden request feels odd, and part of you worries about what he might say or do next. As you make your way to the parking lot, you mentally prepare yourself for another potentially difficult encounter.

When you arrive, Jungkook stands near his car, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual confident demeanor seems replaced by a sense of unease.

"Hey," he starts, his voice tentative, "thanks for agreeing to meet."

You give a brief nod, keeping your tone neutral. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours. "I wanted to apologize," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for calling you up drunk."

You feel a flicker of irritation. This is what he wanted to give you? An apology that's seven days late? You figured he would have just forgone the apology by now.

"Why now?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, a defense mechanism you've developed. "It's been a week. I’m not sure if you realize that or not though."

"I know," he says quickly, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or just never hear from me again."

You scoff slightly, "Well, for the first time, you are completely right. I don't want to see you, Jungkook." You try to keep your voice steady, but the raw edges of your emotions bleed through. There’s no point sugarcoating it at this stage; he’ll just keep pushing your boundaries if you don’t become firm with him.

He winces at your words, nodding slowly. "You have every right to feel that way. I messed up, big time. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry. You deserve someone who isn't as screwed up as I am. But I still mean everything I said that night. I do love you. It took me until now to realize that, apparently."

You sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Love? Now? After everything? Somehow, it feels more like a burden than anything.

"Jungkook, love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card," you say slowly, your voice somewhat shaky. "It's not something you can just throw out there to fix things. Not only did you divorce me, but you also led me to believe we could actually be something. All those weeks of you being attentive and showing up for me after I shared my feelings made me believe that you were honestly trying to make our marriage work, that you were committed. You lied to me, discarded me, and now that I'm not around, you suddenly miss me? No, I'm sorry. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just apologize away."

You pause, feeling the weight of your words settle in the tense air between you and Jungkook.

He looks down, nodding again. "I get it. I really do. And I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I just wanted you to know that I understand how much I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I understand if you hate me."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to stir inside. "Jungkook," you begin carefully, meeting his eyes. "What happened between us was painful. You calling me drunk last week was also painful. I'm sorry about the challenges you had with your parents, but it's no excuse to put that on others. If you need someone to discuss personal matters with, I suggest you see a professional."

You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't hate you, okay? I'm not that cold-hearted. There's still part of me that I think might always hold space for you, but I can't just forget everything. I need to move on, and that means you can't keep calling me at random times. It’s not fair to either of us. I appreciate the apology, but I don't think we can go much further."

He nods solemnly, understanding your stance. "Okay," Jungkook replies softly, his voice filled with a sadness you hadn’t expected. "I understand. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Take care of yourself, okay? I...I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me," he says, his eyes earnest. "And... I'm really sorry for everything."

He begins to back away toward his car, and as he does, it hits you—it’s over.

"Take care, Jungkook," you say gently. "Don't overwork yourself, alright? Stay healthy."

He looks at you, forcing a smile. "You know I can't do that. It isn't in my blood." He sings the last part, referencing a song you both used to joke about, and you let out a small chuckle despite yourself.

"God, Jeon, I thought you'd stop with that song by now." you say, shaking your head.

"Nah," he replies, shaking his head with a faint grin as he opens his car door. "I'm taking it to my grave. I'll see you later, __."

You know the last part is a lie, an empty promise to soften the blow. Still, you respond, "Yeah, see you."

With that, you part ways in the parking lot, each going your separate ways. As you walk back to your office, the weight of the finality settles in. It's all over, you think, feeling the sting of a single tear trailing down your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, a similar tear streams down Jungkook's face as he drives away, each tear falling for completely different reasons.

Two weeks pass, and Jungkook keeps his word. He hasn’t called, texted, or shown up at your work. It’s as if he’s become a stranger, someone you once knew but is now part of a distant past.

Your days begin to regain a sense of normalcy. The emotional weight of the past few months slowly starts to lift, allowing you to refocus on your work and personal well-being. The company demands your attention, and you dive into projects, meetings, and strategies with a renewed energy.

Yet, despite the return to routine, there's a persistent sense of something missing. You haven’t talked to Taehyung at all since he got discharged from the hospital. You haven’t seen him either, and the silence pulls at you more each day.

Every time you try to get information about him from Namjoon, he gives you the same response: "Just text him. Don’t overthink it; he’ll be glad to hear from you." Once, you sensed that Namjoon wanted to say more but stopped himself short, making the excuse that it wasn’t for him to say. Whatever that meant.

You’re on your way home from running errands when the thought enters your mind for the umpteenth time: should you text Taehyung?

You’re torn between respecting his privacy and wanting to check in on him. He hasn’t reached out, so maybe he’s trying to distance himself or just needs time to recover alone, now that he’s in the comfort of his own home. On the other hand, you can’t shake the feeling that checking in would be the right thing to do.

As you approach your apartment building, you pull over into a quiet parking spot, letting your car idle. Gripping your phone, you take a deep breath and finally decide to text him.

You: Hey, Taehyung. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. Let me know if you need anything. We still miss you at the office!

You stare at the message for a moment before hitting send. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you wait. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he doesn't want to hear from you?

You end up deleting the message entirely.

Forget it, you think, if he wanted to hear from you he would have texted by now, right? Just leave it alone. You said you'd support him while he was in the hospital and you did. Now he needs his space to finish healing. He'll reach out when he's ready.

Your phone buzzes the next minute, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glance at it, half hoping that Taehyung was secretly telepathic. But it isn’t from him. Instead, it’s a notification from a friend inviting you to a small get-together this coming weekend.

Smiling, you accept the invitation.

Turns out your friend's get-together was a singles mixer. Unsurprisingly, you weren't approached much, if at all. It seemed the men were either too nervous, still associating you with your ex-husband, or not quite into accomplished women. That didn't stop them from ogling you, though, as your friend insisted that you dress for the affair. You didn't choose anything flashy, but it was certainly flattering.

Leaving without a phone number didn't bother you, though. At thirty years old, most of the people were younger than you, including your friend who was a couple of years younger. Plus, you found your mind often wandering to the one man you hadn't heard from in nearly three weeks—Kim Taehyung. Should you stop overthinking and finally listen to Namjoon's suggestion? Maybe it's time to contact him.

Lost in thought on your drive home, you snap back to reality when you slam on the brakes at a sudden red light. Damn, you hadn't noticed it change so quickly. Shaking off any lingering daze, you refocus and spot a man crossing the street ahead, a little dog trotting beside him on a leash.

"Taehyung," you whisper to yourself. "What is he doing out here, especially on this slipper—shit!"

Your heart skips a beat as Taehyung stumbles on the ice, struggling to keep his balance. Concerned, you pull up to the side of the road as soon as the light turns green, parking quickly and jumping out of your car to rush over to him. He leans against a brick building, his dog, Tan, yelping at your approach. Cute little guy, but you're focus is on Taehyung.

"Damn," he mutters, trying to steady himself. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you. "__, I—" he begins.

"What are you doing, Kim Taehyung?" you scold gently. "Are you trying to hurt yourself again?"

Taehyung meets your gaze, his Gucci scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "No," he replies earnestly. "I just needed some fresh air. It's been nearly three weeks since I was discharged, and Dr. Min said short walks with Tan are okay now. My parents were here for a while, but they left this weekend."

His explanation sinks in as you take in his appearance. Despite the chill in the air, he looks better than the last time you saw him. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, and there's a determination in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You should be more careful," you reply softly, stepping closer to him. Tan, sensing the shift in attention, continues to bark happily, tail wagging. "Are you okay? My car is right here, if you need me to take you home or anything."

Taehyung nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know. Sorry for worrying you." He gestures to Tan, who is now circling around your legs in excitement. "Tan here doesn't seem to mind the ice at all, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind you either."

You chuckle softly, crouching down to pet the little dog. "Is he usually this friendly?"

"Not at first, no," Taehyung replies, his tone lighter now. He glances down at you, his eyes softening. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It's been...a while."

You nod, standing to your feet. "It has. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

"I am," he affirms, his gaze steady on yours. "Thanks to you, mostly. You were there for me when I needed it the most."

"Oh, come on," you say, waving off the comment. "I didn't do that much."

Taehyung's smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did more than you realize."

You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you maintain eye contact, appreciating the warmth in his gaze. The longer you stand there, staring at each other, the uneasier you feel. Perhaps you shouldn't ask the question that's been on your mind, but it slips out before you can stop it.

"Why didn't you call?" you ask, surprising both yourself and Taehyung as he simultaneously voices the exact same question.

Taken aback by the simultaneous question, you both chuckle nervously, breaking the tension. Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.

"I thought about it every day," he admits, his voice quiet but sincere. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me. I already took so much of your time, and I didn't want to ask more from you. So, I asked Namjoon to pick me up from the hospital. I thought maybe it would be better for me to wait for you to reach out and focus on recovering."

You nod, understanding flooding your expression. "I felt quite similar. I thought maybe you asked Namjoon because he's your friend. I didn't want to hound you when you just got released from the hospital, so I decided to let you recover in peace. I guess in the end, I was also waiting for you to reach out with an update of some kind."

Taehyung takes a few seconds to fully absorb your words before replying. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. I would have been more than happy with you picking me up instead of Namjoon. I realize that I should have at least reached out to update you instead of going silent. I'd like to think of you as my friend too. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I just didn't want to burden you." His gaze becomes downcast as he stares at the ground beneath him.

You're unsure where you find the courage, but you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, gently lifting his face so he meets your eyes. You have to stand on your tiptoes a bit, which he finds endearing.

"I’d like to consider you my friend too, and that means you shouldn't worry about burdening me anymore, Tae," you say softly, your touch lingering momentarily on his face, caught up in the moment. When you realize what you've done, you pull back slightly, flustered. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to call you that."

"It's okay," he responds, his voice gentle. "I don't mind. You can call me Tae from now on if you'd like. Also, you're not a burden either, you never were to me."

You're speechless for a second before replying. "So, friends then?" you ask. "No more mixed signals and reaching out when we want?"

"I mean, I’d like that as long as you do too," he confirms with a warm smile, though his eyes say there's more that he's left unsaid. You don't notice, however.

"Text me whenever you have something on your mind," he continues.

"I will," you promise. “You too.”

"Definitely.” Taehyung pauses, glancing down at Tan who's decided to lay down by his feet. "So, I was going to take a walk with Tan at the park nearby. Any chance you'd like to join me?" His gaze shifts back to you, hopeful yet uncertain.

"I'd like that," you reply genuinely. "But we're taking my car over, so you don't break a hip on this ice, old man."

Taehyung's mouth gapes open as he shakes his head. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm only two years older than you. Two!"

It's surreal.

How much you and Taehyung have started becoming friends, that is.

Almost two months have already passed, and it feels like just yesterday you were merely colleagues, you his boss.

Saturdays have become your day with Taehyung now. While part of you insists it's to prevent him from slipping on the ice again, deep down, you both know there's more to it now that he's almost fully recovered from his injuries.

Each weekend, you find yourselves exploring different parks and streets, swapping childhood stories, and sharing laughter over the dumbest things. Today, however, would be different. With rain threatening to drench the city, Taehyung suggested a change of plans—a cozy movie day indoors. Little did he know, you had a surprise in store for him.

You dash up to the front door, a bag of homemade food in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

Taehyung opens the door with a grin, holding his own umbrella. "Hey! Perfect timing," he chuckles, taking the umbrella from you and gesturing inside. "Come in. It's freezing out there today."

You step inside, shaking off the raindrops and removing your shoes. The warmth of his home envelopes you, a comforting contrast to the chilly rain outside.

"I brought something," you announce, holding up the bag. "Guess what it is?"

Taehyung looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Hmm," he muses, pretending to ponder. "Knowing you, it's probably my favorite spicy chicken wings from that place near your office."

"Very close, Tae. Except these chicken wings were made by your favorite person in the whole world," you tease, handing him the bag with a grin.

Taehyung's eyes lit up as he takes the bag from you. "No way," he says, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. "You made them yourself? You're the best, __. Seriously."

"It's the least I could do," you reply with a smile, following him into the living room where the TV flickers. "Besides, it's pouring out there. Movie day with good food seems like the perfect plan."

"Absolutely," he agrees, setting the food down on the coffee table. "I was thinking we could start with that new action flick I heard about."

"Aww, but I thought you said we could watch one of your movies instead?" you argue playfully, sinking into the couch. Tan bounds over, wagging his tail in excitement at the prospect of company. You scratch behind his ears while Taehyung sets up the movie.

"What? I don't remember saying that. Was I drunk that day?" he jokes.

"Well... maybe?" you tease back.

"I told you, __, I don't like watching my own films. It's weird, and half the time it's me kissing the female lead. You're going to need to watch those on your own time," he quips, his tone more serious than intended. The truth is, he really would rather not be there when you watch him kiss his co-stars.

"Alright, alright, getting aggressive over there," you chuckle, not seeing the faint rosy tint that's crept up on his cheeks. "We'll watch the action movie."

As the opening scenes roll, you can't help but steal glances at Taehyung. Despite the seriousness of his recent health issues, he seems more at ease today, a genuine smile gracing his face as he takes a seat beside you. It feels good to see him like this, relaxed and feeling more like himself.

Halfway through the movie, he nudges you gently. "Thanks for coming over today," he says softly, his gaze warm as it meets yours. "And for the food, of course."

"You don't have to thank me," you reply sincerely, nudging him back with a smile. "I'm happy to do it."

Unexpectedly, Taehyung reaches for the TV remote, pausing the scene playing in front of you. "Hey, __," he says, turning to face you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they shift from side to side.

"What is it, Tae?" You feel a slight unease, sensing tension. He's once again just staring into your eyes, wordless.

"Do you..." he starts but stops short, his voice trailing off.

"Yes?" You search his face for clues as to what he's trying to say.

"Would you want to go to a party with my family?" he finally asks, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents are hosting to celebrate my recovery, but really it's just an excuse to get the family together."

"So, a family reunion?" Your voice drops slightly, a mix of surprise and...disappointment? Why had you been expecting something different?

"I mean, yes, sort of. You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost anxiously. "I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but you've been here for me during so much of my recovery. It would mean a lot to have you there. My parents want to meet you too."

"Um... well, I've never been to a family function before," you admit hesitantly.

"You haven't?" Taehyung looks genuinely surprised.

You shake your head. "My family's never been one to do those types of things."

"Well, consider yourself part of my family then. Come with me, __. They'll love you."

"I-I don't know about that," you say softly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. "How can you be so sure that they'll like me?"

"Because I do," he urges gently, "and if I like you, so will they."

You're taken aback by his words, unsure how to respond. Surely he means this in a platonic way. Despite growing closer, you and Taehyung are just friends, setting aside any previous suspicions of romantic interest. Maybe if circumstances were different—if you weren't divorced—then maybe you could entertain the idea.

For now, you'll leave that side of him alone and simply be his friend. You feel a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Okay," you finally say, nodding your head. "I'll come. When is it?"

"They want to do it next weekend, weather permitting. We can carpool if you'd like, or you can take your own car," he offers.

"I'll think about it," you reply, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

"Great." Taehyung flashes a boxy grin. "Thank you, I was so nervous to ask."

"Of course," you say, offering a tight-lipped smile. Taehyung unpauses the movie, and you return your attention to the TV screen. Minutes following your phone buzzes and a text message from Jimin appears on your screen.

Chim 🐥: __! Hate to be bringing this up, but have you seen the news about Jungkook? Looks like he's preparing to step down as CEO. Did you know about this?"

What? You had no clue.

a/n: If you are mad at me, well....I'm sorry but pls blame jk instead. But I am hoping you enjoyed! 🥰 vote jjk or kth

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[zarla-s]

We move forward, 'cause we can't go back...

It's the EIGHTH anniversary of Handplates, and the first one after I finished the comic back in July! I decided to dig up a very old wip that I never finished and finally do it. I've always loved WeMoveForward by The Midnight, and I think it applies not only to the comic itself but also this period after it... there's no way to go back to when I was doing it, only moving forward after it's done.

Even more appropriately, since I did this wip, these characters all moved forward even further... even as this sat in my files, they moved forward, in a sense. I don't know, the song gives me a sort of plaintive, longing, bittersweet feeling... it's hard to explain.

I had a very insistent voice in my head that always made me do a Handplates page over the years I was working on it, no matter what happened. I wasn't sure if that voice would ever stop, even when it's done, but it has! It's gotten quieter now, mostly only nagging me about other projects I should be working on (Defrag, the Ace Attorney/Frozen fic, web design, fic ideas, art ideas...) whenever I'm doing something, much like it did before I started the comic.

How I feel about Handplates finishing though is strange. At times it doesn't feel like it's over, even if I don't feel like I need to do another page. At other times I get sad thinking about it and I miss it, and other times I look back on it with amazement that I was able to do it. Sometimes I look back on it and think about what was happening in my life at that time, and sometimes when I look at it it's unreal and it's hard to believe I even did it, like someone else did the whole thing. It's like it's there but it's not, it's present but it isn't. It's a very strange feeling, it's hard to describe or pin down. I know it'll always be with me in some way, but it is strange to be able to focus so much attention on other things without that feeling of having to set aside a few days to do a page every two weeks... not bad or anything, but I'm not used to it still.

I don't know! When I read the comments on the last page a lot of them made me cry, especially those talking about how the comic had been their childhood, and now their childhood is over. It was sad to think that I had a part in something like that ending... but it ends for everyone, no matter what you do. We, you and me, everyone... we move forward, 'cause we can't go back. That line was so evocative for me that I even used it as a chapter title for the penultimate chapter on Comicfury.

I don't know, just nostalgic thoughts! I don't know if that's the right word for it... but thank you to all of you who read it and enjoyed it. Even now I hear from new people coming to it and reading through it again now that it's done. Even if it's finished, it's still new to people just finding it. It's still "living" in a sense. And thanks to those of you who stuck around even though it's done, I appreciate it. |D

(As a note, the Gaster ukagaka has a surprise if you boot him on the anniversary after seeing the brothers, if you haven't done that)

[index] [patreon]

[rieamena]

wipe my mind, i'd still be stuck on you

kenji sato & baseball critic!reader

contains: fem!reader, established relationship (5 and a half-ish years), going public, petnames, reader and ami are close friends & spend time with her and chiho (ami's daughter), singing, kenji being whipped for you and vice versa, championship baseball game, children mention!!!, emi mention!!! (she's at kaiju island!!), proposal, engagement, fluff, suggestive, angst if you squint hard, lowercase intended!!! !!!: the song in the second part is stuck on you by grentperez wc: 3.4k

people always wondered how you managed to get the most in-depth and provocative interviews with ken sato. without fail, each and every one of your published articles presented the baseball star in a new light. "mr. sato, i'm sure your fans are wondering just how you were able to overcome your slump. some are even saying that you had special help from someone significant to you. so tell us, is there someone significant to you right now?" your eyes captured ken's as you spoke into your recording device. both of you sat cross legged on your shared bed, free hands intertwined, sharing a dopey smile. you moved the device closer to him, squeezing his hand when he just stared at you lovingly instead of answering the question. "i'd say that significant isn't the right word to describe her. actually, there aren't any words to describe just how much she means to me. she's my everything. my sun, moon, sky, and stars." ken pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, his words soothing your heart. "and i'm sure she feels the exact same way about you." drawing circles into his hand, you looked at the gold ring attached to a matching chain around kenji's neck. "eyeing my necklace, are you?" you scoffed and rolled your eyes, "well, what does it symbolize?" kenji fiddled with the ring, twirling it between his fingers. "it's a promise ring. if i'm being fully honest, i cried when she gave it to me. i never thought i could be so close and intimate with someone. i didn't fit in back in LA and i'm still struggling to fit in here, but none of that mattered to her. for once, someone saw me for me. no matter what happens, i'll always stand by her side and i'll always love her." before you knew it, ken's lips were hovering over yours, his hand delicate on your face, as you subconsciously leaned into his touch. "i'll always love you too." it was a kiss full of passion and love. it managed to convey kenji's innermost thoughts and feelings to which you shared yours as well. pulling away from your boyfriend's lips and settling into the crook of his neck, small, blinking digital numbers stole your attention. a quiet giggle escaped your lips as you stopped the recording, "guess i'll be keeping this for myself." ken pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering softly, "or you could show the world how much ken sato loves his pretty girl."

you sighed, "we've talked about this, love. i don't want to go public because—""you're scared about the public's opinion." kenji cut you off, recalling the numerous times he's had this conversation with you. "ken, its not just that! i could lose my credibility as a baseball journalist!" you professed, separating from the warmth of his body, "people would think that i got interviews from pure favoritism. and some would think that i… offered you favors. …going public might ruin my career and i don't know how i'd be able to…," your words died down as your head returned to kenji's chest, your lips taking in a shaky breath, "i love journalism and i love baseball and doing something that bridges the gap between those two is one of the best things in my life right now." laying your hand flat against his chest, rubbing softly, you continued, "please ken, believe me when i say that i really do want to take your last name, i want to walk down the aisle to you, i want to do it all and i want to do it with just you, but right now," you looked up at kenji, whose eyes expressed deep apologies, "we're both doing so well. i don't want a single thing to knock us off our highs." a couple moments of silence passed before ken responded. "i understand… sorry for upsetting you." you shook your head, "don't apologize. you wanted to know the whole truth. nothing wrong about that…" rubbing the side of your arm, kenji repositioned both of your bodies to be laying down. "let's take a little rest," he whispered, bringing your body closer to his. you hummed in response, snuggling even closer to your lover, wanting to feel his warmth mix with yours. "mmm, i'd like that…" your voice drifted away, body entering a state of slumber in kenji's arms.

"honey?" ken's voice called, "i brought the stuff you wanted!" "i'm in the kitchen!", calling back, hands occupied with coating and frying some pork loin. your nimble hands dropped the meat into the pan of hot oil, watching it sizzle and crisp. "hi baby." ken dropped the bags of groceries on the kitchen island, wanting to wrap his hands around your waist instead. "tonkatsu?" kenji perched his chin atop your head, peering down at the frying pork. "yeah, we haven't had it in a while, and i know how much you love it." ken smiled, one that you could feel. "you know me so well." you smiled back, flipping the pork cutlets to ensure they cooked evenly. "how was your day?" "a bit busy, but it's better now," ken said, his hands moving to gently massage your shoulders. "can i help with anything?" "actually, could you start on the salad? the veggies are all washed and ready to go." kenji moved to the counter, grabbing a knife and chopping board. the two of you worked in comfortable silence, the sound of sizzling oil and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables filling the kitchen. "feels like we're missing something…", you put in the last pork chop, "mina, play some music please." a soft drum beat escaped from the mini speaker kept in the kitchen for times like this. almost instantaneously, kenji looked at you, tossing a wooden spoon from the utensil vase, picking up one for himself as well. "you could wipe my mind, i'd still be—", he sang into the spoon before pointing at you. like clockwork, you finished, "stuck on you." "i climbed the highs, nothin' i—", you pointed back at him, the man in question already belting the rest of the lyric, "wouldn't do~" your bodies got closer, "i'll be holdin' up to every word, every promise that you ever heard." kenji takes your hand in his and spins you around, hugging you close. "i'm makin' up for all the days that passed us by." it was a part of the song but he whispered it instead, giving your lips a quick peck after. bringing your hands up to his face, your thumbs continuously caressed ken's cheeks, a soft smile on your features. a small whine escaped ken when you suddenly stopped your ministrations, your eyes blowing wide. his followed suit, realizing what the problem was. both of you looked at the pan full of hot oil, a deep brown pork chop forgotten at the expense of the impromptu concert. "oh shit, it's burning!"

you walked through the front doors, slipping off your shoes and setting down your bags. entering the elevator, you shot a quick text to ami, letting her know that you got home safely. walking through the curve, you approached kenji, his body sprawled out on the ridiculously large couch staring at his phone intently. sitting up as soon as he felt your presence, ken quickly threw his phone out of reach for the both of you, waving you over. "eventful day?" you nodded, glancing at his phone before looking back at him. "have something to tell me?", you questioned, causing your boyfriend to smile, patting his lap. shuffling over, you laid your head on kenji's thighs, reveling in the plush firmness of them, "nothing my pretty little journalist needs to worry her head about." his hands poked and pinched your cheeks teasingly before being swatted away by yours. "what did you do today with ami and chiho?" ken's voice was light, unsure if concealing his plans caused you to be annoyed. "we went to the mall to get chiho some new clothes—," you took one of his hands in yours, playing with his fingers as you recalled your day, "—i got you something too. it's on our dresser." kenji's hand playing with your hair, occasionally massaging your head relaxed you as you continued speaking, "then we went to a cafe and had some desserts. i had a strawberry cream cake—that's in the fridge—ami had tiramisu and chiho had the cutest mini ice cream. wait." you pulled out your phone, muttering that you had to remember to send these pictures to ami. finding a photo you took of the table adorned with desserts, you handed your phone to your boyfriend, telling him to swipe to see the rest whenever. "after that, ami had to pick something up from a nearby shop so chiho and i just chilled until she came back." ken swiped to numerous pictures you took with chiho, smiling softly, imagining that you were taking photos with your child instead of ami's. peeking over at your phone, you squealed, "isn't she sooo cute? ken, you don't understand!!! she's like emi! …but smaller. and she's so full of energy!" "baby fever?" "...maybe." putting your phone down, ken relaxed his arms on the top brim of the couch, body on full display. "i could give you a chiho of our own." he looked down at you, a smirk on his face, causing you to choke on air, "you—! you!" "[name] sato does have a nice ring to it, don't you think?" "kenji!" "i meant it, you know."

"[name]? i've been calling you for—" kenji opened the door to your study, stopping in his tracks. you were passed out on your laptop, blue light glasses falling off and your favorite pen — the one he gave to you as a 'just because' gift — threatening to slip from your fingers. letting out a quiet sigh, ken walked over to you, taking shallow breaths as he slowly packed up your things and set them at the side of your desk. when you stirred in your seat, he froze, not wanting to wake you up from your nap. gently pulling the laptop from your grasp, kenji looked at the screen. an article titled 'inside the mind of ken sato: an exclusive interview' was scheduled to post at eight the next morning. shutting it closed, ken moved over to your limp body. bending his knees, he laid your back against one of his forearms, his other hooked under your knees. walking over to the loveseat you kept, ken's eyes never left your sleeping figure. he laid you down softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek before draping a nearby blanket over you. getting his laptop and putting on those blue light glasses of yours, kenji settled himself on the floor, occasionally looking back at you as he scrolled through pinterest, saving various images to his 'us' and 'wedding plans' boards. when he felt a hand on his head, rubbing softly, ken switched to a new tab. turning around, he whispered, "you're awake." he didn't expect your eyes to still be closed, realizing that you've been playing with his hair habitually rather than purposefully. "thank you ken…" your voice had the post-nap drowsiness but managed to convey your gratitude. "don't sweat it, princess."

opening your eyes slowly, kenji's face was the first thing you saw, causing you to sigh in delight. "god, you're stunning." ken's lips curved into a small grin, his head tilting. "thank you...?" "no no, i meant it like—" you sobered up after being drunk off sleep, collecting your thoughts, "when you get to re-experience something life changing as if it was the first time. thats what it felt like, like i was seeing you for the first time all over again." ken turned away from you, covering his face with his hands, feeling it heat up. "hey, don't do that! i was still admiring you," a groan escaped kenji's lips as you pried his hands away, "damn, can't a girl call her boyfriend pretty nowadays?" you slid off the loveseat, placing yourself right next to ken. "i like to think i look better from the front angle." he smirked, moving the laptop from his lap to the sofa. "you look good at all angles," you repositioned yourself, your core pressing into kenji's as you straddled his hips. by routine, his hands gripped your waist, squeezing and massaging slightly.  "but i'd be lying if i said front angle kenji wasn't one of my favorites." kenji kept a hand stationed at your waist, the other moving down to grope your ass. low and heavy moans broke from him as you rocked your hips back and forth, giving you both the friction you've been waiting for. "you gotta get on top of me more often, baby. 'can't believe i was missing out on this." his eyes scanned over your figure, drinking it in. slowing your motions, your hands found home on kenji's shoulders. "keep acting like that and i'm gonna have to start going dress shopping." ken laughed at your comment, the implication not fully registering yet. "wait, what?"

the roar of the crowd filled the air as the yomiuri giants claimed the championship title. the atmosphere was electric, a whirlwind of cheers and applause. kenji, bathed in the triumphant glow of victory, made his way through the sea of elated teammates and ecstatic fans. his eyes locked onto yours, and in an instant, he was in front of your premium best view stadium seat. without a word, he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, the world around you fading into oblivion. the force of your embrace caused you to topple over the railing, crashing into Kenji with a fervent hug. "ken! ken! oh my god, you did it! you did it! you were so cool!! you hit the ball like wapow—" you rambled, your excitement bubbling over as you mimicked his winning hit. "huh? where did he—?" your eyes darted left and right in the search for him, only to find him behind you, down on one knee. the prettiest ring you had ever seen rested in a small black velvet box, glinting under the stadium lights. kenji looked up at you, his usual confidence giving way to a nervous chuckle. "you found me…" he muttered, his voice tinged with vulnerability only you got to experience. kenji took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "i don't know how i lived before i met you," he confessed, the words heavy with emotion. the stadium seemed to hold its breath, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the moment unfolded. your heart pounded in your chest as kenji's words hung in the air. the world seemed to stand still, every sound and sight melting away except for him, kneeling before you. "[name]," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "from the moment i met you, my life changed in ways i never thought possible. you've been my rock, my partner, and my biggest supporter. every day with you has been a gift, and i can't imagine facing any challenge, celebrating any victory, or living any day without you by my side." he paused, taking a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "you have this… incredible… ability to make everything brighter," he looks away, choking on his words, tears welling and slipping from the corners of his eyes. "to turn ordinary moments into extraordinary memories. your laughter is my favorite sound, and your smile, my favorite sight. you've shown me what true love is, and for that, i am forever grateful." kenji's voice grew softer, more intimate, as he continued. "in the highs and lows, you've been there. you believed in me, even when i didn't believe in myself. you've given me courage, strength, and a love that I know will last far beyond a lifetime."

tears were already streaming down your face, each word leaving ken's lips caused your waterline to fill up and spill over. your body shook, as you took in the view of your boyfriend, wiping away his tears with your hand. "i want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me. i want to be the reason you smile every day. what i'm trying to say is…, [name], can i have the honor of being your husband?" even if you had spoken any quieter, kenji still would've heard you, at that moment, the only thing he focused on was you. "yes, kenji. let's get married." he pushed back a sob, rising to his feet and taking your left hand in his, slipping the ring on your finger. "wait…", you spoke, voice hoarse from all the crying. hands trailing down ken's neck, you felt the dainty chain he always kept on him, pulling it out from underneath his uniform. the promise ring laid on his chest as you unlooped it from the chain and pushed it onto his ring finger, as he did with your ring. flashing your signature smile, albeit more tired, you exclaimed, "there…! now we match!" the sob kenji previously choked back resurfaced as he picked you up and spun you around, your laughter mixing with his. as he set you down gently, your foreheads rested against each other, the world around you forgotten. in that perfect, intimate moment, everything felt just right. "what a way to tell everyone, ken. you never cease to amaze me…" "i'll have you on your toes. no way the marriage is getting boring with me around." "please, it wouldn't be boring either way."

extras —

you dragged yourself into the living room, dropping your bag and collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh. "i'm so tired… that article took everything out of me. and he was being so unnecessarily difficult!" ken looked up from his book, concern etched on his face. "you should—oh, i don't know—quit your job." "ken," you replied, giving him a pointed look. "hey, i'm just saying. i have more than enough to support us both and then some. no need for you to overwork yourself like this." he set the book aside and moved closer, taking your hand in his. "how about this? once the season is over, we take a couple weeks off for vacation. we'll travel anywhere you wanna go!" you smiled, the idea of a vacation sounding like a dream. "and if japan needs saving?" ken fell silent, embarrassed that being ultraman completely slipped his mind. "oh right. can't forget about that." you both laughed, the tension from your long day starting to ease. ken's thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of your hand. "but seriously," he continued, his tone softening. "i hate seeing you so stressed. you're amazing at what you do, but you deserve a break too. we'll figure it out together, okay?" you nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "okay. a vacation sounds perfect. and maybe i will think about taking it easy for a while." ken leaned in and kissed your forehead. "that's my girl. now, let's plan this vacation of ours. we’ve got the whole world to explore."

"babe, can you look through my phone for something? i took a picture of something i wore the other day," you asked, tossing your phone to kenji. "alright." catching it with ease, he started scrolling through your photo app. "this the one?" he asked, showing you the picture. you nodded, finding the same clothing pieces in your closet. kenji continued to scroll through your photo app, and suddenly he stumbled upon an album named 'mine <3'. "oh, you love love me," he teased, turning the phone towards you and revealing the numerous pictures you had of him. you rolled your eyes, trying to play off the blush creeping up your cheeks. "don't flatter yourself," you scoffed, a playful smile tugging at your lips. kenji chuckled, encapsulating you in a side hug. "too late. i'm already flattered." he looked at you with those warm eyes that always made your heart skip a beat. you shook your head, laughing softly. "you're impossible." "and you love it." he said, his voice low and affectionate. you couldn't deny it, the brightest smile etched on your face as you pushed kenji away. "yeah, whatever."

whew... its been a wild four days but i'm actually so proud of myself. personally, i love how this came out and i really can't believe that i typed all of this like me??? what?!?! i hope you all enjoyed it as much as i did <33 i'll be doing requests + asks for this so if you wanna see something or know something, send me an ask! love yall <33 ps: formatting this post was literal hell. solely bc tumblr decided to stop allowing me to save in rich text.

taglist <3

@lovingyeet @yellowheartz @darlinggreenwitch @meikoo @moonjellyfishie

[fever-fluff]

Take my Hand

Synopsis: Azriel really wants to hold your hand, but he's afraid that he'll hold it too tight.

(I've been obsessed with writing something that focuses on Azriel's hands. Because of how it was too late to save his hands when his brother's burned him, I'm wondeirng if he ever had to relearn things when they finally healed himself.)

Word Count: 2k(Not Proof Read)

Sometimes he had wished he had burned in the blaze of heat centuries ago, that the months of relearning how to make a fist with his fingers and then splay them wide again hadn’t tunnelled itself so far into his memory that he could still feel the anger, pain and frustration of not being able to do what infants could. But the years had rolled on, one into another and even with all the Illyrian healing in the world, Azriel would never be able to go back to a time where his hands were just… hands.

He was supposed to meet you today, outside the little bookstore you and Nesta frequented so many times you knew it better than your own rooms. That was an hour ago. But the pains that sparked from his fingers up through his arm had left him twitching so uncontrollably that he couldn’t even lift the cup from its saucer this morning without the tea sloshing over the sides.

He could hear Madja’s hum of disaproval in the back of his mind as he changed his hands from the almost boiling water in one bowl to the icy cold in another. He’d been slacking on the regiments she’d given him all those years ago. With the dexterity he needed to wield his blades, Azriel was supposed to vigilantly keep up with the hot and cold baths and rigorous stretches and ointments so he wouldn’t lose their complete cooperation, but in the past few months he’d avoided them to no end.

If he were being honest with himself, it had started much earlier than that. Seeing so many round him now that didn’t fail in menial bodily functions had left him feeling lesser than, so he’d reduced his routine week by week, then day by day, until he’d relied solely on what his body could do to stop his hands seizing up. What an idiot he was.

The twitching had finally ceased, but his hands had locked into a half-made fist and he grunted with frustration, asking the house to send a bowl of melted wax so he could attempt to bend his fingers back to where they should be.

Submerging one, he began to think of you. Had you left? Or were you still standing outside the sage green door with the potted plants littering the entrance, wondering if he’d stood you up? It had been too long for you to think he was running late, and he cursed himself to Hel.

He’d imagined your first outing over and over again since you’d said yes a week ago. How he’d fly down to you, no Illyrian leather in sight, instead complimenting your dress his shadows had described perfectly with the slacks and shirt he’d chosen after tearing at his hair all morning. He wouldn’t bring any flowers, remembering your distaste for uprooting harmless fauna and instead he’d offer you something hot to drink to keep you warm in the crisp air of the afternoon. You’d smile and thank him, asking if he was ready to go inside and he’d grab you hand, giving it a kiss as he hummed his yes. He wouldn’t let it go the entire time you scanned the bookshelves. Until you’d finally begin choosing your reads for the coming days and he’d offer to carry them for you, holding them securely imaging it was you instead. Once you were finished, he’d hold the bag of books in one hand, while reaching with his other and lacing your fingers together. The day would carry on much the same, and his hands would always be there, either at your waist or your own, always making sure you were still by his side – that he was not imagining any of it.

But that’s all it was in the end – his imagination. His hands were no good for soft touches. He was always grabbing things too lightly or too tight, never just right. They showed him for the brute he was, that he was not meant for delicate things like you.

Slowly bending the first of his fingers back, Azriel heard the slightest rap of knuckles on his door, and he announced himself before he even thought to check who it was. But the soft footsteps he had become so used to picking out over the rest of his loud family had his head snapping up to face the opened door and see you, a small smile on your face with sad eyes. “Is this a bad time?”

His wing barely missed tipping the bowl of wax on the floor as he spun to face you, hiding it and his once again shaking hands behind his back as he called your name in surprise. Shadows flitted around him, making for your figure in the door and swirling at your feet. Their movements displaced the fabric of your dress, the skirt of it flowing with the black tide. You looked so much more than beautiful, blowing whatever his imagination had conjured up earlier out through the open window. All Azriel could find himself thinking of was how soft you looked when you filled the stretching silence once again with your voice. “I was worried. You didn’t show and I thought Rhys might have called you away. But when he said he hadn’t seen you since breakfast, well… I really didn’t know what to think.”

“I -” Gods, why did his own words have to fail him now? “I have no excuse for leaving you to wait. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, “Apology accepted. But Az, if you didn’t want to join me this morning, you could’ve told me. I didn’t want to make you feel like you had no choice but to hide away in you ro-”

“I wasn’t hiding! I – I wanted to come, truly, I just…” Azriel sighed as he placed his hands back in front of him, the shaking and curling fingers on full display in front of you. “I’ve tried everything, but none of it’s working. I just, I wanted today to be perfect, but I should’ve known it would be me that ruined it.”

There was no gasp of surprise as he’d imagined when you inevitably found out about his lacking. Only Rhys and Cass were privy to his condition, Feyre, her sisters, even Mor had been left in the dark for years now on his request. But you had slowly walked toward him and now reached for his hand to peel the hardened shell of wax back, dropping it into the rest.

Guiding him to the bed, he sat and watched as you silently picked up vial after vial of oil on his dresser, putting them down as you read each label until you found what you were looking for.

He said nothing as you tipped some of it into your hands, rubbing them together to warm them after being out in the biting cold for an age, all thanks to him. You reached for his, only stopping to ask him a simple ‘may I?’ before he agreed, and you took his right hand in between your delicate fingers.

Slowly, you pressed and kneaded the aching skin and muscles, setting the fingers that refused to move back with careful movements. It was tediously long, one of the treatments that he avoided almost all of the time because his own could never fix the problem. But you never complained, never tired from the repetitive nature of it once. When the shakes had finally eased, and his fingers could once again flex and move with little stiffness, you moved to his left; using the same care and diligence on it as you did the first. It must have been a couple hours before you finally retracted your hands from his, resting them in you lap as you smiled up at him. “There. Any better?”

Azriel felt the first drop hit his cheek and roll down until it fell, the rest soon following. “Where did you learn to do that?” He couldn’t tear his eyes form yours, even when his vision blurred from the tears. You had done something no one ever had. After everything he had done – leaving you to wait, sending no word of why, then sitting here with you like a buffoon as you tended and cared for him as no one else had. How could you still look at him like that, with so much warmth?

You blushed under the question, “I asked Madja to show me, in case you needed help when no one else could do it.”

He bristled, no no no no no. “Did Rhys tell you? Did Cassian?!” He’d kill them, he’d kill them both for putting you here. But you waved you hands in denial of his words. “No. No! I – I just thought that it would be something you might need… you know? I know that Illyrian healing is one of the most potent there is, so for your hands to be so scarred, I just thought that maybe it wasn’t all surface level…” Your voiced had filtered out as you finished explaining, but Azriel couldn’t even believe the words that had reached his ears.

You had gone to Madja, or your own choosing, to ask for something no one else had thought of in the time they had known him. “You did this for me?”

“Well, yea. You’re always taking care of me. I just wanted to take care of you sometimes, because I know its nice to receive it. So why shouldn’t I return the fav- ”

Azriel hadn’t even let you finish before he’d moved to place his lips on yours, stealing the intake of breath you’d taken in surprise. He was right, you were soft, and delicate, and just, everything. He moved his now still hands to hold you as he wanted to this afternoon – wrapping one round your waist as the other placed itself to cup your neck. You preened as he pulled you closer, legs tangling slightly and your own hands, the ones which had cared for him so wonderfully, reached for the front of his shirt and pulled on the fabric to bring him impossibly closer. You were incredibly open to him, inviting everything he gave you with warmth and just as much delight as he did. it was impossible to pull away from you, and even as he gained the strength to do so you had chased his mouth with a slight nip to his lower lip. His hum swallowed by you, tongue teasing the seam of his mouth until he opened up just as much as you had, and he became engulfed by you once again.   

This time it had been you who pulled to break away from him. He forced himself not to follow as you had done earlier, opening his eyes and finding yours already looking at him. Your cheeks had flushed, and he noticed that somehow you had come to sit on his lap, legs tossed to the side while your dress pooled around you both. He supposed he looked no better, even less so with the grip he had on your waist and neck. But you didn’t seem to mind. Not at all as he worked the skin underneath in a silent apology to sooth whatever pressure he had inflicted.

“Thank you”

Your eyes closed at his words and touch, leaning forward to peck his lips one more time. “Anytime, Shadowsinger. Anytime.”

He should ask to redo your missed outing this morning, should apologise one more time for leaving you to wait. But with the way you had curled into him, Azriel pushed his thoughts back. He’d make it up to you later, he promised himself. He just wanted to hold you for a little while longer.

[ihave-atummyache]

versace on the floor

hwang hyunjin one shot/imagine

NSFW!! 18+++ MINORS DNI

summary: the most stunning couple at the award show… in matching versace, of course.

3.2k words (OFFICER I CAN EXPLAIN)

(this is the best foreplay i have ever written oh m y g o s h)

i couldn't decide who your best friend is dating in the group so just make it up yourself>_<

also u all already know that i think hyunjin is just the nastiest mfer ever so i, once again, completely indulged that

"I'm insanely lucky," you mumble out, staring straight ahead as your boyfriend walks with his band down the red carpet. Your best friend chuckles beside you before snapping in front of your face.

"Earth to y/nnnn, snap out of it. We get it, you're obsessed with your boyfriend," she playfully rolls her eyes but still pulls out her phone to record her own boyfriend, right up there with Hyunjin in his own designer brand.

"Now who is obsessed with their boyfriend?" you tease and she chuckles but you both turn your attention back to the boys when they start getting bombarded by questions.

You glance at your boyfriend and you can’t help but let your eyes trail down his body. He has on the prettiest Versace suit that you have ever seen. It's just an all black suit with some tiny gold detailing on it but you swear he has never looked more mouth watering. His long black hair is slicked back away from his face and the icing on the cake is the black polish adorning his nails and, of course, his rings.

When you let your eyes trail back up his body, they meet Hyunjin’s and he has the most smug grin on his face that you have ever seen. Of course he caught you checking him out but, in your defense, everyone is checking him out right now.

But he would describe you the exact same way. You're dressed in a black sculpted column Versace gown. The gown itself is pretty simple, but the jewelry adorning your skin is what really makes the outfit. Just like your boyfriend, you're head to toe in Versace, as per his request. Down to the hairpin in your hair.

You bite down on your red lip and Hyunjin's gaze drifts to your lips for a moment before he quickly turns his attention back to the interviewer.

You and your best friend aren't able to meet back up with the boys again until the afterparty. You're at the drink table, grabbing a glass of champagne before you feel a familiar set of arms wrap around your waist and your boyfriend's scent fills your nose.

"I think we're the best dressed couple here tonight," you chuckle against the rim of the glass and you feel him chuckle in response before placing a gently kiss to the side of your neck.

"Mm. I agree. But did you have to wear that lipstick color?" He asks and you frown before turning around in his arms and locking eyes with him. His grip tightens around your lower back when your eyes meet.

"You don't like it?" You can hear the pout in your own voice but Hyunjin immediately shakes his head.

"No, baby. I love it. Maybe a little too much," he leans into your ear, making sure nobody around you can hear you, "I've been hard since I saw you while walking the red carpet. I can't stop imagining those lips around my cock," he whispers into your ear and you choke on a sip of champagne, coughing slightly.

He chuckles and tucks a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind your ear. You clear your throat before taking another sip of champagne. Your boyfriend grabs the fluke from you and downs the rest of it, having no patience for you to babysit your drink.

"Oh no! Your drink is empty. Looks like we should leave," he smiles innocently at you before wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you towards the back door. (lol)

"Wait! Shouldn't we tell someone we're leaving?" you object, glancing over your shoulder but nobody is looking your direction.

"They'll figure it out," he replies before opening the backdoor and peaking out. There's nobody but a security guard there and Hyunjin asks if he can call a car for you two which he immediately does. The car arrives in less than five minutes and you're back at your hotel in less than fifteen.

You step into the elevator and press the button to your floor. Hyunjin's hand wraps around the back of your neck and before the doors can even close, his lips are on your's.

It feels like he's devouring you, like he's going to swallow you whole. But honestly, you love it. The kiss is wet and sloppy and you can't help letting your hands thread into the back of his hair, tugging at the strands.

The groan that leaves his mouth and enters yours is deliciously erotic and you pull him impossibly closer. The two of you are basically one entity but it still doesn't feel like you're close enough.

The elevator door dings and Hyunjin pulls away from you. Your lipstick is every where. It's all over his chin and lips, the tip of his nose, literally every where. You try not to imagine what you look like right now. As if he can read your thoughts, he reaches out and runs his thumb under your bottom lip, presumably fixing some misplaced makeup.

"You're so fucking beautiful," the words leave his lips and he drags you behind him as he makes a beeline for your hotel room, pulling out the keycard and pushing into the room.

He immediately turns you around and pushes you against the door. He reaches one hand up and locks the hotel deadbolt. As his hand trails back down the door he brushes the same hair from earlier out of your face again before reattaching your lips.

You let out a moan when his thigh finds its way between your legs. However, you can barely get any friction due to the dress being custom made and practically skin tight.

Much to your surprise, Hyunjin's hands make their way to the slit up the side of your thigh and before you can stop him, a loud rip echoes through the room.

"Hyunjin!" You exclaim and he leans in again to kiss you, his thigh pressing fully into your core this time.

"Jinnie, this is so expensive!" you object, pushing his shoulders away from you to glance down at the damage but he resists, pulling a moan from you when his grip tightens on your hips and his thigh pushes harder against your core.

"I can afford it," his voice is deep in your ear and he uses his grip on your hips to grind you against his thigh. A whimper leaves your mouth and you let your head fall back against the door.

Maybe it's from the half glass of champagne or maybe its from how good your boyfriend looked tonight but you feel more riled up than you ever have in your life.

"You're so fucking hot," you breathe out, your eyelids low and he tears his eyes away from where you're sat on his thigh to lock eyes with you.

One of his hands leaves your hips but you continue to grind against his thigh, wedged between your legs. He grabs your jaw gently before leaning forward and licking your parted lips. It's simultaneously the nastiest and hottest thing that he has ever done.

"You were made for me," he grunts out before pulling you off the door and turning you around, guiding you backwards until your knees hit the bed and you fall backwards. He wastes no time in climbing over your body and biting at the exposed skin of your chest.

The strapless dress made it easy for him to pull the top down slightly, letting your breasts spill out and also be the next to fall victim to Hyunjin's mouth.

He wraps his lips around one hardened nipple, sucking and nipping, making your hips rut up into his pelvis. You make slight friction and he lets a deep noise escape his throat before he lets his hips relax and you are able to fully grind against him.

The more you grind, the harder and faster he bites and sucks at your chest, sure to leave marks that won't go away for days.

"You're gonna make me cum in my pants," he chuckles into your ear before sitting back on his haunches and staring down at you. He is even more covered in your red lipstick than he was in the elevator, it's all over his neck and jaw and face and you can't help but thinking how fuckable he looks right now.

"We already ruined the dress. Might as well ruin the pants too," you tease and he glances down at where he had ripped your gown. He places his hands on your thighs, and you jump slightly at the feeling of the cold rings on your flush skin. He slowly lets his perfectly manicured hands slip under what's left of the fabric until he reaches your hip bones.

"No panties?" he raises an eyebrow at you and you gulp, shaking your head as he begins to rub circles on your hips with his thumbs.

"Been wanting me to hike this pretty dress up and fuck you all day, haven't you?" he teases, letting his hand trail towards where you need him most. His finger tips finally make contact with your wet cunt and you can't help the sound that you let out, a mix between a whine and a whimper.

"I love how wet you get for me," his voice is gruff and you dont have time to reply before he plunges two fingers into you and immediately curls them to hit the spot that has you seeing stars and squirting on him every single time.

"J-Jinnie, you know I w-won't last long if you d-do that," you whine out but he doesn't listen, continuing to plunge his fingers in and out of you.

"I want you to cum until you can't think . You deserve it for looking so damn good tonight. There aren't enough words in any language to describe how gorgeous you are," His words have your head falling back against the mattress and your hands gripping the sheets.

He moves his other hand to the already ripped fabric and rips it further, exposing you to him fully before he leans down and places a kiss to your clit. You back arches off the bed at the contact.

His tongue begins to lap at the bundle of nerves as his fingers continue to brush against that soft spot inside of you.

"J-Jinnie, baby, I'm-I'm-"

"Shh, I know, angel. Cum for me. I want you to squirt on my face. Can you do that?" He interrupts you and you nod vigorously before he lets his mouth reattach to your clit and he speeds up his attack, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you can't hold it anymore.

"Right thereeee, I'm cumming. Fuck I'm cumming," you start to ramble and he hums in response, the vibration adds to the stimulation and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face, the bed, and yourself. He pulls his fingers out but continues to lap relentlessly at your clit, elongating your orgasm.

"Okay okay okay okay," your hands wrap into his slick hair, trying your best to pull him away from your poor pussy. Between his strong grip on your thighs and your weakened state from just having an oragsm, you're useless against him, especially when he gets pussy drunk like this.

"Jinnie, hurts," you whimper out and he replaces his mouth with his fingers, rubbing against your swollen and overstimulated clit.

"Shh, baby. I know, I know. Just want you to cum one more time with me down here, okay? That's all then I'll let you take a breather," his voice is soft and any other time, you would know better than to fall for it but you're already so out of it that you're getting caught right under his spell.

You let out a disgruntled noise, almost an uncomfortable sound when your next orgasm falls over you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and tears begin to fall from your eyes. Hyunjin is happy he switched techniques and is able to see you in all your glory right before his own eyes.

The tears falling down your cheeks and the way your face looks in that moment is more beautiful than any art piece he has ever laid eyes on.

He stops rubbing at your clit when your body starts to jerk under his touch. He pull his hand away and rubs soothingly at your hip, his other hand trailing up your body before it wraps around the back of your neck and he pulls your limp body up to sitting.

"Are you okay?" he leans in, his forehead against your's as his hand that isn't supporting you creeps around your back and unzips the dress. He had some how managed to rip it so severely that he didn't even have to unzip it all the way for the fabric to fall away from your body.

He pulls the ex-dress away from your body and tosses it on the floor. Your wobbly hands reach out and you begin to undo the buttons on the front of his Versace suit jacket. He patiently waits for you to finish before shrugging the jacket off and tossing it onto the floor with what used to be your dress. He makes quick work of his belt next, your eyes focused on his pretty fingers and blushing slightly at the realization that those same fingers were in you, moments ago.

This leaves him in just his tank top and suit pants. The pants squeeze his waist and legs perfectly and with the removal of the jacket, it accentuates his waist in the most delicious way.

You can't stop your hands from reaching out and trailing your fingertips down his toned shoulders and arms. You smile to yourself when the goosebumps rise on his skin, satisfied that your touch has that much of an effect on him.

"You drive me crazy. Take it off for me," he glances down to his own body and your hand dips into the waistband of his pants, pulling his tank top free and slowly pushing it over his head.

Once the fabric is over his head, you let your hands gently trail down his chest and abs, just like you had done with his arms. Once you reach his happy trail, you curl your fingers, letting your nails scrape against the skin, little red marks immediately showing up on his pale skin.

He sucks in a sharp breath before grabbing both your wrists in one of his hands, the other making its way into your hair. He wraps his hand into your hair, the hairpin falling from it's place, and pulls back, exposing your neck to him.

He leans down, his breath hot against your skin and you bite your lip in anticipation. Hyunjin's lips are amazing, no matter where they are on your body.

"You're perfect," he presses a kiss to your throat, making you swallow at his touch, "An angel on earth. You're fucking perfect," he continues, sinking his teeth into the spot right next to your throat before pressing a kiss over the same spot.

"Hyunjin. Just fuck me already," impatience is dripping from your voice and he chuckles, pulling his face away, his grip still in your hair. A small smile sits on his face as he studies your ruined makeup.

"What makes you think you're in charge here? Plus, didn't you say you need a breather? Are you that desperate for my cock? Poor thing," he feigns a pout at you and you feel a blush creep up your neck before he lets go of your hair and slides onto the bed next to you.

"Be patient, my sweet girl. We have all night," he smirks at you as you lock eyes with him again over your shoulder. Despite his words, he rearranges the pillows and lays back, propping his head up. His nimble fingers snap open his slacks button before sliding down the zipper and you already know what he wants without him having to say it. You reach over and grab the waistband of his pants, sliding them down his legs. Even his underwear are Versace and you can't help but chuckle lightly at this before sliding them down as well.

"Ride me, sweetheart," he pats his thighs before you swing one leg over, straddling his hips. Your cunt was only a few centimeters away from touching his cock, red and ready to be inside of you. He can feel the heat radiating from you and it's taking everything in his power to not just pull you down to take his full length.

However, he doesn't have to wait much longer because your patience is also wearing thin. You reach between the two of you, sliding his cock through the slick created from your previous orgasms. You finally line yourself up and slowly begin to sink down onto him. Despite your preparation, the stretch is still slightly painful, making you pause. Hyunjin's hands rub soothing circles on your thighs, trying his best to get you to relax.

"You can do it, love. Just a little more. Doing so good for me. Taking my cock like you're fucking made for me," his words fill your ears and encourage you. You lean forward, pressing your hands to his chest before letting out an exhale and fully sinking down onto him.

“There you go, just like that. Good girl, such a good fucking girl for me, aren’t you?” he asks before wrapping his hands under your ass. He pulls your body up before letting you sink back down onto his cock, a groan leaving both your mouths.

“Just for you. I’m such a good girl for you,” you ramble as you begin to bounce up and down on your boyfriend’s cock. Grunts continue to leave your’s and his mouth, mixed in with different nicknames as you speed up your pace.

Hyunjin’s hands make their way up your back, slightly pulling you forward before he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth again. The new angle makes his cock hit you completely different as well as rubs your clit against his pubic bone, creating the friction you need.

“Shit baby. So wet around me. Clenching already? Already gonna cum for me again?” His voice is muffled in your ears but you nod and that’s all the conformation he needs before he wraps his arms around your back again and pulls your chest against his.

He bends his knees and plants his feet on the bed before suddenly speeding up and fucking up into you like a madman. The change in speed has uncontrollable moans leaving your lips and you can’t even warn Hyunjin before you’re cumming again, squirting all over his stomach, hips, and thighs.

“There you go, atta girl. Good. Doing so good,” he’s mindlessly praising you, pressing kisses to your temple as you come down from the strongest orgasm of the night.

It only take about ten seconds before he starts to move inside of you again, making you jump and try to get out of his grip.

“J-Jinnie w-wait,” you whine and bury your face into the crook of his neck.

“What did I say, darling? I’m not done making you cum yet. Plus we aren’t done until I’ve painted this sweet cunt with my own cum,” he punctuates his sentence by thrusting up into you one time, making a squeal leave your lips. He chuckles before pressing another kiss to the side of your head.

“God, I love you,” he whispers into your hair and you reply by pressing a kiss to his shoulder, not yet in the right headspace to form real words.

[moonstruckme]

babe you’ve got me obsessed with doctor remus!

can i request a drabble where reader gets into like a car accident and has been taken into a&e with like mid/severe injuries and remus has been assigned to treat her?

if not then that’s fine! love your work bae 🎀

Hi gorgeous! Thank you for requesting (I'm obsessed with him too) :)

cw: hospital

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 716 words

The nurse leaves, and you think you might finally get more than five seconds to yourself but then the curtain pulls back again, a tall doctor taking her place. You’ve been able to feel your heartbeat pulsing through every inch of you since you’d stumbled out of your smoking car, and this new man doesn’t help matters. 

He’s lovely. With a face smattered with warm freckles and silvery scars and a mop of brown hair that looks like it’s never once been brushed, this is the kind of person who would fluster you on a normal day. Now, you don’t even know the word to describe the effect he has on you. 

He has to ask his question a second time before you hear it. 

“Have you had allergic reactions to any medications?” 

You blink. It still feels like reality is moving at twice its usual speed. You don’t know if it’s just you shaking, but it feels like the whole room. “Uh, no. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright.” The doctor’s voice is businesslike but kind, with a Welsh lilt. He flips a page on his clipboard. “Anything we weren’t able to address in the ambulance? Any new aches and pains?” 

“I—I don’t think so.” 

He lowers the clipboard slightly, looking at you. His eyes are a lightish brown color, like honey left too long in the sun. “Has anyone talked you through grounding exercises?” 

You feel your brow wrinkle. “What?” 

He almost smiles. “I’ll take that for a no.” He sets down his clipboard on the edge of your bed, pulling up a rolling chair and sitting down in front of you. “I’m going to have you breathe with me for a minute, alright, sweetheart?” 

It’s not in your nature to contradict professionals, but you feel your head shaking as if from somewhere outside of yourself. “Why?” you ask. “Aren’t there more important things?” 

“There are still things left to do,” he allows, seeming unaffected by your questioning, “but you’re stable. It’s nothing that can’t wait for a few minutes, and it’s important that you’re calm so you can think properly.” He takes your hands in his, ignoring the odd padding of the splint around your broken wrist and holding your fingertips instead. “All I need from you is for you to copy my breathing. Can you do that for me?” 

You nod. As he starts to talk you through it, your eyes begin to sting, an effect of his gentle tone or the respite your body has been craving or both. Your doctor’s expression doesn’t change when he sees the silver lining your eyes, but he gives your fingertips a light squeeze. 

“Okay, in for eight this time,” he says in that lulling voice. “Good job, just keep at it.” 

You manage to breathe in for long enough to satisfy him, and after the exhale he drops your hands. 

“Well done,” he murmurs, mindful of the small cuts on your face as he thumbs away your tears. “Are you feeling a bit better?” 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. The word comes out like a sigh, and his lip curves softly at the plain relief in the sound. 

“Happy to hear it. You were right earlier, there’s still plenty left to do,” he says, expression sombering somewhat as he looks at you intently, “but if you ever need a break, you tell me or someone else, okay? I don’t want you suffering in silence.” 

“Okay.” You wet your lips, feeling much more solid than you had a few minutes before. The world has slowed to its regular speed. “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.” 

He smiles, which is altogether too charming for a place like this. It makes the long scar going across his cheek crinkle slightly and you could swear his eyes lighten a shade. “Well, see, that’s how I know you weren’t really with me when you came in, because we’ve already been introduced.” His expression lets you know he hasn’t taken any offense, but your face still heats at your impoliteness. “It’s Doctor Lupin, but you can call me Remus.” 

Something in you rings at this new knowledge, like a tuning fork has been struck. Remus, your consciousness echoes quietly. 

His smile softens. “We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other today.”

[andiloveher]

"are you dead yet?" a calvin gabriel analysis

a/n: this movie is my current hyperfixition right now and this is just my personal take on the character, ben is a genius :) some of these quotes are out of order

thinking about the intro/beginning scene. that evil ass kid. cal gives such theater kid vibes omg.

i don't have much to say about the opening scenes, i think ben gives an amazing way of setting up the character dynamic between andre and cal. at first, it almost feels like he created an empty character out of cal, so it could be easy for someone to step into his shoes and relate to him (until later). cal is usually the one behind the camera, this isn't to say that he is less important than andre but i feel like this is where people start to create that 'soft and innocent' idea of cal. i can imagine him standing behind the camera with a stupid little grin on his face.

thinking about the firework scene; lets get the first thing straight, cal was not manipulated, gaslit or the 'soft and innocent' one here, and neither is andre. both are to blame for this. notice how excited cal is, or at least fakes it. even while watching the fireworks, he seems unamused compared to andre (who calls this out). i think cal has always been a very closed off person, he can be very ignorant and annoying as depicted at the poem scene and several scenes with andre.

thinking about cal's first solo video entry ; "everything is planned so methodically." i LOVE the way he used that word and why he used it. methodically means structured or in an orderly fashion. i think it's a perfect use of the word, the fact that at first they never had a date, they had a plan and knew exactly how they would execute it. "it's gonna be unreal. it's gonna be beautiful." cal looks off as he speaks, almost like he's spacing out while imagining it. cal knew exactly what was to come, and almost fantasized about it. the thought it was beautiful. he starts examining the camera etc, as if he wasn't just talking about a mass shooting, he treats this very lightly. as if, it's just another sadistic thought. "we are gonna leave you all behind, just sticks in the mud that andre and i have made. we are gonna walk away. you see, we see more than you do." cal is fully aware of what's to come, almost as if he's planned this for years ahead. it reminds me of the tate quote "I'm prepared for the noble war."

nearing the end of his 'monologe' he starts spacing out his words, taking longer to deliver what he's about to say as if he's trying to justify it or make someone understand why they are gonna do what they are about to do.

thinking about the party scene; cal silently makes his way out of the party to sit on the steps with andre. when he gets down to the step he basically slouches over, covering his face as if he's exhausted. "i'm just not good at parties."

he keeps his arms crossed over him but his legs out. his legs out are a sense of comfort with andre but i feel like him keeping his arms crossed is because he still feels very closed off or uncomfortable. he stays very quiet while andre talks with his cousin. apparently they have been friends since about sixth grade and cal has been with his family before, yet he still feels anxious and closed off to them.

thinking about the braces scene; ben did this in a lovely way and he's an actually genius. "his parents spent all that money for years on his teeth, just for him to blow them through his skull." - ben in the Zero Day Commantary

thinking about the grave scene; another one of my personal favorite scenes. cal is very defensive on andre during this scene as rachel basically describes him as a bad influence on cal. i feel as if cal is getting defensive because andre was able to understand him in a way no one else would, someone who understood his sadistic ideas and even help him go through with it. someone who saw the need for a 'beautiful' cleansing.

i also think he got defensive when rachel started to describe andre as like the ring leader of all of this, cal wanted his credit and i think this tied alot into the shooting scene later on.

"im insecure and i need attention." god someone get this boy a myspace page.

thinking about the camping scene; where cal jokes around with his family alot, i wonder how his younger siblings felt afterwards

thinking about the poem scene; i don't think the poem has much meaning - also basing it off what Ben said. just some edgy thing a teenager would say.

cal doesn't seem to take anything seriously. being obnoxious to the other people who were there, ignoring andre's points on trying to stay secretive. cal couldnt give less than a fuck.

im jumping far

thinking about the shooting scene;omfgomfgomfg. in the car it's like we see cal truly happy when he is about to ruin people's lives, his smile seems so genuine like he's ecstatic.

when him and andre get in the building, he seems so focused on his first shot, quick to make sure there are no more people.

don't even get me started on the library scene omg

the way cal walks ontop of the tables, showing a sign of authority over everyone else. a moment where he can finally feel larger than others, where he no longer has to worry about staying in his little bubble.

"are you dead yet?" is my favorite quote from the scene. it's filled with so much anger and almost irony. he's taunting them, he laughed at the idea of someone trying to talk him out of it. i think this was the most freeing moment for cal.

i also think he was ready to die, his last conversation to andre says so much. telling him "you're done." isn't of "i'm done" or "we're done." he was prepared to paint the ceiling with his brains - while andre was so hesitant. UGH I COULD TALK ABOUT THID MOVIE FOREVER

[fieldsofwriting]

And so, the stars aligned. Pt 5

Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader

Summary: Now in the Spring Court, you arrive at the ball. Fancy dinners, and suitors, await…but where was Azriel?

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma. (Brief)

Ageless and Minors DNI

part one, part two, part three, part four.

Masterlist

Requests are open!!

a/n: Before starting!! I based a lot of the balls and stuff off of Bridgerton/ Regency era stuff because, well - that's a lot of what I know! Plus, Prythian seems to be old-fashioned still in that kinda way. Also! You're referred to a 'lean' once. That's most because of how SJM describes the Fae having longer limbs and such. I didn't know a better way to word it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Stepping Foot into the Spring Court was like seeing a real life fairy tale. Lush green grass, stretched for miles. Tree and flowers in full bloom, like they never withered in the first place. Flowers that would have made Elain jealous, blooming along. The air was warm, but a gentle breeze helped keep you cool. It was perfect.

And flying with Arizel was even more perfect. His strong, sturdy arms kept you close. You could feel his strong, powerful wings with every flap. His back tightening and loosening like a well oiled machine. You were jealous of his ability to fly. Especially in lands like these. "Hold on, y/n." His voice was gentle, it was a request. If you didn't hold on, you suspected it make him hold onto you tighter. But you obliged. Wrapping your arms around his neck as you began your descent. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle when Azriel got hit in the face by a petal. The small flower clung to his nose, and you quickly helped him out.

"The flowers like you, Azzy." You tease as he lands gracefully on the ground. He was still holding you as he took a couple steps forward to help ease the impact. Azriel rolled his eyes, but you saw the ghost of a smile. You watched the others land as well, Rhys and Feyre doing so with grace. Cassian and Nesta... a loud thunderous sneeze made their descent less graceful. Cassian tucked Nesta into his wings as they rolled onto the ground. "We're okay!" Cassian said quickly getting up, then helping Nesta with ease. Your oldest sister looked at him with a heavy sigh. "Take the medicine Madja gave you right now." She commands. Cassian pouts as he pulls it out and takes a swig.

Azriel, much to your dismay, gently sets you down. But stays close, his hands hovering over your arms in case you fell. But you give a small reassuring smile to him before you look over to Rhysand. "What now?" Rhys is about to answer when you hear footsteps. Looking over, you spot none other than Tamlin. His smile is gentle, and he looks at Rhys and Feyre with a longing you understood far too well. Rhys pulls Feyre closer as he nods at Tamlin. "You look well, so does your Court." Rhys says cordially. You feel a cooling sensation at your feet, Azriel's shadows. Ready to push you away out of danger at a moment's notice. Reaching behind you, you take his hand to give a squeeze. The small action seems to ease Azriel.

Tamlin nods at Rhys. "It was hard, but now it is flourishing." He says evenly, "I took...advice from your Court." Rhysand seems to be shocked, but not angry at that. He smiles as he nods at the other High Lord.

"I'm glad to be able to see it." Rhys says. His hand still holding Feyre's tightly, trying to keep her calm in the face of her ex. But your sister remains strong, unbothered. Tamlin's attention turns to her, and he gives a small smile. "Feyre. You look well."

"As do you, Tamlin." She says coolly. Tamlin smiles and then clears his throat. "I met your son. Amern and Mor are here - waiting for you, where the Summer Court will be staying. He looks just like Rhys, I'm sorry." And you realize that the High Lord of Spring is trying to joke. It seems to catch everyone off guard, making you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Rhys chuckles first, "Glad to see you've got your humor back, Tamlin." He says with a smile. Relief washes over Tamlin's face as Rhysand speaks. Then he lets his stunningly emerald eyes land on you. Rhysand had told you, before coming here, not to bow to anyone. You shouldn't be lesser than anyone. Bowing wasn't needed when the High Lord and Lady were your brother-in-law and sister. So you kept your head held high. And swore you could feel Azriel's pride swelling behind you. The hand that still held his received a gentle squeeze.

"And this must be Y/n Archeron." Tamlin greets, putting a hand to his chest and bowing his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you." He steps forward, and you feel the shadows coil tighter around your ankles, offering his hand. You gingerly place your hand in his as he lifts it and presses a kiss to it. Watching you the whole time. And you can't help but let your cheeks flush.

Until Feyre claws at your mind, showing you images of his temper. You shoot her a glare. "I suppose you lot must be tired after flying here. I'll allow Varian to come get you and escort you back." His eyes land on yours again, giving you a coy smile. "I shall like a dance later at the ball, Y/n Archeron."

Your cheeks heat again at the formality of it all. But you give your head a quick nod. "I shall save room on my dance card for you." You almost swore you could feel Azriel stiffen behind you. The shadows around your ankles growing colder.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Varian arrived shortly after Tamlin left, and brought you back to the nice little manor you'd all be staying in. Little, might have been the wrong word. The floors were oak through each room. The walls were a rich cream color, but didn't lack life. They have paintings of flowers, animals, a waterfall that looked like starlight... The whole bottom floor consisted of an open floor plan, the kitchen tucked away in the back of the house, beautiful marble countertops and dark oak cabinets to match the floors. The couch was a deep green, with an ornate rug underneath it. A few armchairs supplied as well. A long dinner table with enough seating for your party.

The bedrooms were no less ornate as the rest of the house. The master bedroom was located upstairs, all the way back at then end of the hall. Feyre and Rhys had called dips. Then the room next to theirs was claimed by Cassian and Nesta. Amren and Varian got the one across from them. Mor and you would be sharing a room, the one next to Nesta and Cassian. Azriel was across the hall. And as soon as that had been settled, you ran up to your room to get ready. Throwing your bags up on the bed and hastily throwing them open, so your dress for the evening could unwrinkle.

The first evening was about alliance's more than romance. At least, that is how you looked at it. You'd show off what court you were from, maybe have a few dances, and then call it a night. But it didn't matter to you, you were going to a freaking ball! The childlike joy in you had yet to dim in your heart. The dress you chose had a high neckline, akin to a halter top. It covered your cleavage while still hugging them to show them off in a modest way, as Nesta put it. The back remained open. And golden accents lined the edges. From your waist came long layers of tulle decorated with stars, and when you spun it flared slightly. You'd look breathtaking on the dance floor tonight, you just knew it. Your heels were golden to match the accents in the dress as well, Mor had also lent you some jewelry for the evening.

Everything was coming together just perfectly. You had sat and down and started to brush out your hair when a knock sounded. "Come in!" Nesta and Feyre entered. Both of them smiling at you as they accessed what you had laid out. Feyre took the brush from you, gently pulling it through your hair. "You should be careful with Tamlin." The first words out of her mouth made you roll your eyes.

"Feyre, I'm not going to fall madly in love with Tamlin because he was kind. I will be cordial and polite by allowing him a dance and then release him to the public." You assure her, locking eyes with her in the mirror. "I will never forgive that bastard for what he did to you. But I can, make it hard for him to refuse any alliance Rhysand speaks of tonight." Nesta's mouth curls up into a smile as she brings out a box. "You cunning little thing." She says proudly, setting down the makeup she had packed as she starts to help. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Was that your plan all along?" Feyre asks, grimacing when she catches a snarl in your hair. Not that you minded. Where your sisters kept their hair braided and in updo's most of the time. You usually opted for a more natural style. And that, meant your hair got more windswept than normal when flying. But you nod at Feyre. "Of course. Don't get me wrong, if Tarquin offers me a dance, it might be for a little more than just an alliance. But Nesta once told me the ways of balls and polite society. So I will follow it. I'm still looking for love, but again. I'd settle for a boyfriend by the end." You shrug playfully, missing the look your sisters give each other.

"You were little when I told you that." Nesta says wistfully. "It made me miss it. But, I'm glad that those lessons stuck with you at least." She doesn't give you a chance to respond as she starts to lather your face with creams, and other makeup.

By the end. You looked stunning. Your hair had been curled, Nesta braided a crown at the back of your head to keep your hair out of your face but left a few pieces framing it. The dress fit like a glove, and the added height from the heels made your already lean body look even better. Your makeup was stunning. Nesta had dusted a mixture of bronze and gold over your eyelids, and Feyre took a golden face paint-dotting it along your cheeks to help accentuate the freckles you already had. Your lips were a beautiful glossy rose pink.

Your sisters had left you to dress long ago. But you kept staring at yourself in the mirror. Unable to look away, you felt like a princess. There was no way that you wouldn't find a partner tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Meanwhile. "Azriel. Stop spying on her." Cassian chides as he buttons up his shirt. "She's going to be fine. Nesta and Feyre are in there." Azriel glares at him, he had still barely gotten dressed. Shirtless and in nothing but black slacks. His shadows swirling around him, whispering into his ear, 'She looks like a dream.' 'Our mate is beautiful.' 'She'll be able too reach up to our shoulder for sure tonight.' And it was hard to foucus when all they could focus on was you. "Says the one who gets to be with his mate tonight." He grumbles as he grabs his shirt and slips it on. Rhys sighs heavily as he looks at Azriel with a gentle, yet exhausted expression. "Azriel. She's far too excited about this for you to-"

"I won't ruin it." He sighs, buttoning his shirt, but leaving the first one undone. He never liked having that one done. It had felt like he was choking. So that one stayed unbuttoned. He helped Rhys slip on his rather ornate jacket. Black and Gold- to make you. They all had planned it so they'd be able to spot each other easily in the crowds. "She's excited, and I won't take that away from her." Azriel didn't voice his full thought. About how he wished he could have swept you off your feet, heard your vibrant laugh sound through out the ball. Dip you and watch your eyes widen, kiss you under the moonlight... all of it. "If it is any consolation." Rhys's voice snaps Azriel out of his trance. "Feyre just informed me that she has no plans on wooing Tamlin. She knows we want an alliance with him." He chuckles as he buttons his coat. Turning and grabbing Azriel's coat to help him next. That does make him smile, "I knew it. She held my hand behind her back as he spoke. She didn't like him." He confesses.

"Aww! How romantic! She held your hand!" Cassian teases, earning a smack from Azriel. He chuckles, "But that's good, it will help us keep the peace. It's already so delicate."

"She's a smart woman." Rhys pats Az's shoulder to signal he was good. Azriel buttons the suit jacket and nods. "Then again so are all of the Archeron's but-" Rhys shrugs.

"You can say that again." Cassian rolls his eyes and sits with a slight huff. "I'm gonna be on that dance floor all night batting men away with a stick while Nesta dances. And she knows it too!" Rhys and Azriel share a look, before the both mockingly 'aww' at him as he did to Azriel moments earlier.

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Everyone had made thier way downstairs to the main entrance. The stairs had a view that went straight up to the landing, making for one grand entrance. And, that was all that was left for you to do. Round the corner and face your family. For whatever reason it made you nervous. Mor had assured you that you looked stunning. Nesta had made you do affirmations in the mirror. Feyre assured you that they were all excited to attend. But anxiety still gnawed at you. "Y/n! You're gonna make us late!" Rhys's voice boomed through the house. With a deep breath, you rounded the corner. Your family looking up at you. Your sisters, all of them- Nesta, Feyre, Mor and Amren looked at you with smiles of varying sizes. Your brother in laws smiled as well, but Cassian let out a low whistle.

"Forget beating boys away from Nesta. We're gonna have to beat them away from you." He compliments, earing a smack on the chest from Nesta. But it was worth it in his opinion when he watched the tension release from your shoulders.

Your eyes found Azriel's. And it was like time slowed, watching as he walked up the steps toward you. He looked beyond handsome in his suit. You couldn't recall the last time you saw him dressed so formally, you could have sworn that your heart skipped a beat. You prayed to the Mother to give you strength- if this was how you were reacting to Azriel in a suit? And for a moment, as you gazed at Azriel walking toward you; you hoped that he could kiss you. The thought shocked you, it was probably just the excitement from all of it. But instead, he offered his hand. "You look stunning." He says softly, as if it was only the two of you in the room. "Allow me to escort you to the ball." You didn't hesitate to nod, placing your hand in his. Letting him help you down the steps in your heels. Now you just had to be cunning enough to get a dance with him... ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The ball was, unbelievably beautiful. The marble floors blended seamlessly into the marble walls with accents of gold. Garland of ivy, flowers and other various flora. Chandeliers with faelighting looked as if the celling was crying the most sparkling diamonds. People were dressed so ornately in various colors, like a intermingled rainbow. You squeezed Azriel's arm in awe. He looked down at you, his face remained neutral especially in front of so many people. But you knew that he was silently asking if you were alright. You give him a slight nod. "It's beautiful." You whispers to him, he flexes his arm and you can see his jaw tighten a little as if he was holding back something to say.

And soon, the music had started. The Courts were introduced, Nyx was fawned over by all the other high ladies. You were standing near the refreshment table as you watched Nesta on the dance floor. Moving with Cassian in a fluid, graceful dance. She commanded the dance floor, everyone's eyes were on her. You smiled, knowing the smile that your sister was wearing was a genuine one. But you didn't have much time to focus on her as Tamlin's large build came into your view. Smiling up at him, he reached his hand out. You felt the shadows curl around your ankles again. "Tamlin." You nod at him. "Y/n, would you care to join your sister on the dance floor?" He smiled at you with ease. You set your glass down and took his hand. "I'd love too." And with that, he led you out to the dance floor. His hand on your waist, other one holding your hand up high. And you began to move gracefully around the dance floor. You took note of how the shadows hid in the tulle of your dress. You'd be yelling at Azriel for that later. Tamlin was gentle, but he was definitely leading the dance. Pushing and pulling you around, but he remained polite. "Tell me, y/n. You don't have a mate?" He raises an eyebrow at you. You give him a shrug. He looks amused by your answer waiting for you to elaborate.

"I don't know, truthfully." You said as he spun you, pulling you back in. "I haven't felt the bond with anyone. But that isn't to say that it can't be there."

Tamlin considered your words before he nodded at you. "Do you know what it feels like? Has anyone told you what it is like?" You shook your head. The shadows angrily fluttered around your dress. You made Tamlin spin you again so that you could cover up for them.

"It's been...vague. My sisters don't know how to explain it. They just say I'll know when it happens. That it snaps and they are suddenly your whole word. They say it's as if, the bond is like a string. And at first it's invisible. Until one day it begins to glow golden and the rest is history." You explain what they had told you, the music comes to an end and you take a subtle back from Tamlin. "Join me, for dinner tomorrow." He says quickly. Your eyes widen and you look at him as your mouth tries to form the word no. But you simply just nod. And Tamlin leaves your side, your eyes scan the crowd in a panic. Finding Azriel with Cassian and Rhys in the corner you rushed over, the three of them looking at you with worry. Azriel stepped forward first, taking your hand gently as he pulled you into his side. "Y/n, did something happen?" Rhys asks, his brow furrowed as he watches you. You swallow thickly. "Tamlin asked me to dinner." The others look at each other as if there was a silent conversation happening.

"Okay...and what did you say?" Cassian asks slowly. Azriel wrapped his wing around you, keeping you pressed closely to his chest. You gripped the lapel of his suit jacket. Biting your lip so hard you were worried you'd draw blood.

"...I-I wanted to say no. But, but it was like my body froze up and I just...I nodded!" You rushed out, looking up at Azriel. He tensed, his arm around your waist pressed you closer. But as he looked down at you, he could see the apology brewing in your eyes. So he looked back to Rhys. Rhys hummed and then nodded. "Alright, we can work around this. You'll have a chaperone tomorrow." He says smoothly, giving you a gentle smile. Helping ease you, he looks at Cassian. "Get Nesta. She'll make sure that nothing happens. If he asks, we tell him its a human custom that you insist on abiding by."

Cassian nods, looking back at you and patting your head. "We've got your back, kid. Don't worry." You relax further into Azriel, resting your head on his shoulder as you finally take a deep breath.

"I wanna be there," Azriel speaks up, looking at Rhys. "In the shadows. Incase he tries faebane or anything else again." His voice is tight, pleading almost as he looks at his brother. You gives him a little squeeze. Looking back at Rhys.

"I would feel better about...if Az was there." You speak up. Rhys looks at you and sighs. "Fine. In the shadows. You don't act unless I give orders. Understood?" Rhysand commands, Azriel nods.

You breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't." Azriel says softly, running a hand down your arm. "We shouldn't have left you out there alone. Just seems Tamlin has a type." Rhys snorts at Azriel's comment.

"Why don't you two go dance?" Rhys motions to the dance floor. "The nights young."

Azriel looks down at you, only to be met with your eyes already on his. You nod quickly, as if you knew the question that was on the tip of his tongue. He smiled, letting his wings curl back in and stepping away from you. Bowing in front of you as he offers his hand, reveling in the joyous giggle that sounds from your mouth. Your delicate hand takes hold of his as he leads you to the dance floor.

The same way that Nesta commanded the floor, this time you two did. You felt the eyes of the crowd on you, but none of it mattered. Azriel's hand laid on your waist, your's laid on his shoulder. Hands clasped in a classic waltz. The music guided you two along, no one led the dance. There was a push and pull of equal measure from each of you, moving about the floor as if this was your ballroom. And as the music hit the last swell before it ended, Azriel spun you only to pull you back into a dip. Watching as the lights danced in your eyes, glittered along the fabric of your dress. You looked like a goddess. And Azriel thanked the Mother for giving him such a beautiful mate.

It was safe to say, that for the rest of the night. You were tucked into his side. Safe, and sound. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── a/n: Hehe, this was so much fun to write!! I hope yall liked it!

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

Harry Potter is Actually Really Clever

So often, I feel like Harry is underrated in his own series and I want to talk about how much I love Harry James Potter. Harry is my favorite character in the books and I want to showcase some moments of Harry proving the Sorting Hat knew what it was talking about when it comes to Harry possibly doing well in Slytherin and even Ravenclaw.

(I have more moments listed in my notes, and I'm in book 6 in my current reread, so I definitely am not covering everything)

Let's start then with the words of the Sorting Hat itself:

“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, A my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting….So where shall I put you?” Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. “Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that

(Philosopher's Stone, page 88)

The Hat says Harry is brave enough for Gryffindor, clever enough and talented enough for Ravenclaw and has the ambition and thirst to prove himself for Slytherin. And the hat isn't wrong about it's assessment of Harry. Harry is clever and talented and I so often find it underplayed in fics, or ones that do include it, acting like it's fanon characterization when it's really isn't.

Harry Potter is canonically a BAMF.

So, here I'm going to talk about his cleverness and give some moments of Harry being clever from the books.

(I'll have a different post for his magical prowess.)

Harry Has Brilliant Memory

So, Harry James Potter practically has close to an eidetic memory, and no one really seems to mention it.

An eidetic memory is described as an almost perfect recollection of images or events. And Harry actually shows himself as being very capable of it:

Angelina: “…Harry, didn’t you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?” “Hermione did it,” said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, “Impervius!”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 379)

In thus scene its raining during a Quidditch match and Angelina asks Harry about a spell he used a year before. Harry remembered that moment, remembered Hermione was actually the one who cast the spell, a spell he himself never cast before this moment, and he then casts it perfectly from memory.

Harry remembers the incantation and wand movement perfectly enough to succeed on his first try.

Actually, almost every time we see him cast spells he gets the wand movement and incantation right on the first try (even his first attempt at a patronus worked, the happy memory just wasn't strong enough)

In general, they moments we see Harry fail at casting spells on the first try is when he overthinks it and fails himself like that.

Harry stared at the letters in brackets. Nvbl . . . that had to mean “nonverbal.” Harry rather doubted he would be able to bring off this particular spell; he was still having difficulty with nonverbal spells, something Snape had been quick to comment on in every D.A.D.A. class. On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more effective teacher than Snape so far. Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it an upward flick and said Levicorpus! inside his head. “Aaaaaaaargh!”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 239)

Harry tends to fail potions, and nonverbal spells when Snape is breathing down on him expecting him to fail, though, in this example, the moment Harry feels he can succeed the spell and isn't overthinking it, he casts it perfectly and nonverbally on the first attempt.

He is the same with potions:

Snape, meanwhile, seemed to have decided to act as though Harry were invisible. Harry was, of course, well used to this tactic, as it was one of Uncle Vernon’s favorites, and on the whole was grateful he had to suffer nothing worse. In fact, compared to what he usually had to endure from Snape in the way of taunts and snide remarks, he found the new approach something of an improvement and was pleased to find that when left well alone, he was able to concoct an Invigoration Draught quite easily. At the end of the lesson he scooped some of the potion into a flask, corked it, and took it up to Snape’s desk for marking, feeling that he might at last have scraped an E.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 660)

When Snape wasn't breathing down his neck and stressing him, even without the Half-Blood Prince's superior instructions, Harry is good at potions. He accomplishes the potion to a level of Exceeding Expectations easily. The problem is never his skill, memory, or talent; usually, it's stress, being stuck in his own head, or carelessness (did anyone diagnose him with ADHD?)

Another example of his eidetic memory in OOP:

“Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds,” said Hermione fairly. “I suppose something in that snake’s venom dissolves them or something. . . . I wonder where the tearoom is?” “Fifth floor,” said Harry, remembering the sign over the Welcome Witch’s desk.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 508)

When Harry describes St. Mongos for the first time (about a week before the above scene) he reads a sign that describes what is located in each floor of the hospital.

A week later, without reading that sign again, Harry can recall where the tea room is since he has that sign he read once a week ago, memorized.

Harry is Sneaky

Harry is a proper sneaky slythein and actually has more cunning moments than some slytherins in the books. Here are a few examples I have from my notes:

“Should call Filch, I should, if something’s a-creeping around unseen.” Harry had a sudden idea. “Peeves,” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible.” Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock.

(Philosopher's Stone, page 197)

Harry is a good liar and scared of Peeves like this in his first year.

“…He likes to keep in touch with me, though . . . keep up with my news . . . check if I’m happy. . . .” And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon’s face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 435)

But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather — for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent.

(Goblet of Fire, page 24)

Again, Harry lying and tricking the Dursleys so they won't hurt him. Leveling Sirius as a threat against them.

“Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess — I let you pass. Answer wrongly — I attack. Remain silent — I will let you walk away from me unscathed.”

[the riddle and Harry thinking through it]

“Spy . . . er . . . spy . . . er . . .” said Harry, pacing up and down. “A creature I wouldn’t want to kiss . . . a spider!” The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass. “Thanks!” said Harry, and, amazed at his own brilliance, he dashed forward.

(Goblet of Fire, page 629)

I skipped the sphinx's riddle, now the riddle isn't a hard one, but still, Harry isn't stupid. But he thinks he is. He even tells himself during that scene:

Harry’s stomach slipped several notches. It was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him. He weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, he could keep silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try and find an alternative route to the center.

(Goblet of Fire, 629)

But it's just Harry and his low self-esteem. He solves the riddle quickly thinking aloud near the Sphinx and he does solve it, and is amazed by it because he doesn't think of himself as smart, even though he is.

Most of the riddles to the Ravenclaw common room are probably along this line of difficulty too. It just goes to show he isn't stupid.

“There,” she said, handing it to him. “Drink it before it gets cold, won’t you? Well, now, Mr. Potter . . . I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.” He said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, “You’re not drinking up!” He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy. “What’s the matter?” said Umbridge, who was still watching him. “Do you want sugar?” “No,” said Harry. He raised the cup to his lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping his mouth tightly closed. Umbridge’s smile widened. “Good,” she whispered. “Very good. Now then . . .” She leaned forward a little. “Where is Albus Dumbledore?” “No idea,” said Harry promptly.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 630)

Harry is clever enough to recognize drinking anything Umbridge gives him is a bad idea, so he doesn't. And he does so without her realizing.

“even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?” “Umbridge’s office,” said Harry quietly. He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could think of no alternative; Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own. “Are — you — insane?” said Hermione in a hushed voice. Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the cultivated fungus trade and was watching the conversation warily. “I don’t think so,” said Harry, shrugging. “And how are you going to get in there in the first place?” Harry was ready for this question. “Sirius’s knife,” he said. “Excuse me?” “Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,” said Harry. “So even if she’s bewitched the door so Alohomora won’t work, which I bet she has —”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 658)

Harry can and does strategies. He planned how to get into Umbeidge's office. He employed his friends and actually led them. Being a leader and a strategist — rules we see him grow more into later.

Harry’s mind was racing. The Death Eaters wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere. He had no interest in it. He just wanted to get them all out of this alive, make sure that none of his friends paid a terrible price for his stupidity . . . The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange’s face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow. “You need more persuasion?” she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Very well — take the smallest one,” she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. “Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I’ll do it.” Harry felt the others close in around Ginny. He stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest. “You’ll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us,” he told Bellatrix. “I don’t think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?” She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth. “So,” said Harry, “what kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?” He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville’s arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking. He could feel one of the other’s quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 783)

This is a bit of a long quote, but I really like it. Harry gets the Death Eaters at an impasse because they can't destroy the prophecy. Then, when they threatened Ginny, he changed tactics and got them talking to buy time.

And even when he says his mind is blank:

“What?” whispered Hermione more urgently behind him. “Can this be?” said Malfoy, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and under cover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, “Smash shelves —”

...

“NOW!” yelled Harry. Five different voices behind him bellowed “REDUCTO!” Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit. The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart

(Order of the Phoenix, pages 785-786 and 787)

He's still the one coming up with plans and pulling them out of there.

And if we look at his grades:

(Half-Blood Prince, page 102)

He is very far from failing academically. Actually considering how little studying Harry actually does, he receives very high grades, even for Hogwarts' abysmal education standards. Harry is naturally smart enough and talented enough that with the bare minimum of effort, he can get almost exclusively Es (his failing being in History, an exam he didn't finish, and Divination, which Harry has only been thought bullshit in).

Makes me wish we saw him put in an active effort. I bet it all would've been Os with his memory.

Even Potions, which Harry is supposedly bad at, he got an E...

I just... Harry is just really smart and it kind of frustrates me how I don't see enough fics that treat Harry being clever and with a cunning streak as if it's canon, even though it very much is.

I don't know, maybe I'm just reading the wrong fics...

[hello-there-neighbor]

This is my very first Tumbler post, so please forgive me for any weird formatting. @dcxdpdabbles and @rboooks have this amazing DPxDC AU called Adoptive Son; please read it, it is so great! Obviously, there will be spoileres, so ye be warned and all that jazz. Anyway, I had an idea for a scene and really wanted to share it, so here it goes:

This would take place during part 6, after Danny's arrest, but before Tim's attack. Danny gets a phone call, right? (Like that's a thing when you get arrested, you get to make one phone call?) Obviously, he calls Dick. I'm going to say because the Gotham police are mad at him, ya know, being the "child trafficker" that he is and all, they wait as long as they possibly can to let him call, but when they finally do, he calls Dick. I pictured it like this:

It had been weeks but finally, finally, they were letting him talk to Dick. Nothing else mattered to him. They could put him away, and even dismantle the company; he could escape, he'd actually need to finish and then use the portal, which he had, he was ashamed to admit, moved to be a minor priority in his actually pretty great half-life here, but he’d figure a way to make it work with Dick and Tim, and everyone else would be able to find work again... eventually. He just needed to make sure his family knew it wasn't true. That's all that mattered to him. Of course they would know in their hearts, but he couldn't let them worry like that; even a little doubt would be devastating to them, he was sure. The phone rang... and rang... and rang... ‘please’, he thought, ‘please please please, pick up! Please come o-’

"Hello?" Dicks voice was tired and hoarce, he couldn't shake the image it painted of Dick, tearstained and distraught, more sleep deprived than even Danny had ever been.

"Listen! They aren't going to give me much time." Dick remained silent on the other side, so he barroled on into the ramble he had been needing to let out for weeks. "I don't know how much you've heard, but I didn’t do this! Please, you need to believe me. I didn't do this! I don't know where they're getting evidence from, but it's not true! I swear I didn't! You know that, right? You know I could never! You know I didn't do this."

"Yes, you did." Danny's heart stopped, not that he needed it, but still. "I found it, Crowne, the journals, everything. I turned you in." Danny felt his core crack.

"What? No... No, y-you wouldn't!" Tears were falling on his cheeks now, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. "You know me! You know who I am! You know I w-" He was cut off before he could finish. "Yes, I do, and yes, you would." Diletone rang in his ears even after he had been forcibly pulled away from the receiver. His face was blank. Only one word could describe the pain and betrayal and loss he was feeling: CRACK!

So ya… thanks for humoring me! And thank you @dcxdpdabbles and @rboooks, for writing this story to begin with! You are super crazy talented and should be so proud of yourself!!!