#read part2

[carebird]

"I can't get that voice out of my head..."

[thefandommind]

One of you sneaky mutuals found an old crossover fic of mine that I kind of planned on never finishing after I lost steam

And while I'm not really very good at finishing fics I've started, I might be motivated to share small scenes I finished for the second part, and overarching ideas, if that is of interest.

[aeturnum-mendacacium]

WHERE DO YOU READ THE ENTIRE LCF-PART2?

so i haven't been reading Lout of the count's family/trash of the counts family part-2 for a while now,so i wanted to catch up bet i can't find any site where i can read till ch-200 T-T Where are ya'll reading it????????????????

[the-nysh]

there is a theory that jjk will end with yuji all alone and raising the next limitless user ( like how denji ended csm part 1 with his gang (aki and power and makima killed)

and that yuji will be made to want to live since its important for jjk sorcerers to be selfish and have a desire for themselves

"This is the author's idea. Throughout story, we know that Itadori is ready to sacrifice himself for the sake of people close to him.

In any other story this would be considered a positive quality but in this story it is considered a weakness.

What is the most important thing for a sorcerer in the world of JUJUTSU?

The answer is selfishness.

Personal feelings and perceptions of the world affect the power of sorcerers. And this is not surprising, because even curses were created with the help of a feeling of fear.

That's why Yuji can't get stronger. He has learned to control the power he has but he has never been able to surpass his limits."

Well...I mean, ok I never actually asked for any of this but *sighs* if the current speculation is that jjk's ending's on track to be no different than csm's ending of part1, then....all this really tells me is that the more I hear about it (even thru osmosis), the more I realize I'm really not missing much after stopping both series. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[syluses]

❌ tell the writer u love & enjoy their work

❌ reblog, like, and comment, or all 3 to show your support to the author

✅ make no interaction besides demanding to be tagged in a part 2 that the author never announced

“We’re in a fanfic drought” Tell the writers you like their work.

“All Tumblr ever does is write oneshots now” Tell the writers that you’d love to see them write longer things.

“Nobody updates their fics anymore” Tell the writers you love the fic and want to see more of it.

Tell the writers.

[colorlessjay]

Part 12 of "Back to the Future" AU

There's a line Dean is trying not to cross

Castiel is using that line like a jump rope, dressed like a wet dream, on a Thursday night

He's been in the future for a while. Longer than he's been in the past. And somehow, hanging around like a drifter in Castiel's lovely domestic home is more torture than being thrown into the past to meet his mother and father again

Maybe this was his punishment for saying his mom was a babe

Throw him back to hell NOW before he does unspeakable things to his MARRIED MALE BEST FRIEND

Like, he HAS to be doing this on purpose. but WHY. Why would Castiel, Angel of the Lord, 'Social Skills' are 'Rusty', 'I love my cowboy husband' Last Name Unknown go out of his way to act like...

like...

This!

.... Is he even wearing anything under that...

God Winchester, you are a FREAK

HOLD IT TOGETHER

Meanwhile, Castiel casually doesn't read his book and starts a bet with himself to see how long it will take before Dean cracks

He's giving it another week

Part1 || Part2 || Part3 || Part4 || Part5 || Part6 || Part7 || Part8 || Part9 || Part10 || Part11 || Part12 || Part13 || Part14 || Part15

-------

Thank you for being so patient! The text behind Dean will be posted on my Kofi!

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[nekonaps0]

TWST boys drunk around their girlfriend pt1

✦Characters: dorm leaders

✦part2 part3

Riddle Rosehearts

Drunk Riddle is hilariously dramatic and clingy. The moment the alcohol kicks in, all of his strict rules fly out the window. He’ll blush like a tomato and demand affection in the most formal but ridiculous ways:

“Dearest… my precious rose… I insist you allow me to hold your hand for exactly ten minutes—no, fifteen!”

Expect declarations of love shouted across the room and drunken scoldings of others for not treating their partners with as much devotion as he treats you.

Leona Kingscholar

Drunk Leona gets lazy-affectionate and jealous. He’ll pull you into his lap, bury his face in your neck, and refuse to let go.

“You smell good… don’t move. There where I wanna be.”

He mumbles sleepy praises and suddenly becomes very territorial, glaring at anyone who comes too close. He won’t admit it, but alcohol makes him more vulnerable. If you catch him in that state, you might hear soft confessions like:

“…Thought about you all damn week. You don’t leave my head… So annoying”

Azul Ashengrotto

Drunk Azul is embarrassingly flirty and self-deprecating. Alcohol melts his insecurities and leaves him rambling about how he doesn’t deserve you.

“I must’ve made a deal with fate to have you, my pearl of the sea…”

If you reassure him, he might cling to you, murmuring:

“I don’t get why you chose me… but I’m not letting you go. Ever.”

Also expect him to try and impress you by reciting business figures.

Kalim Al-Asim

Drunk Kalim is like a puppy on sugar. He’s all sunshine and dizzy, twirling you around, hugging everyone (especially you), and loudly telling the room how much he adores his girlfriend.

“Isn’t she the cutest thing you’ve EVER SEEN?! I’m so lucky!! Let’s get married! Right now! Jamil, you can officiate!!”

He’ll try to climb on a table to sing a love song to you, and Jamil will be suffering in the background, silently begging you to rein him in.

Vil Schoenheit

Drunk Vil is honest. His inhibitions drop, and so do the carefully maintained walls around his feelings. You’ll hear real, raw vulnerability, how tired he is of perfection, how afraid he is of losing you.

“You love me even when I’m not… beautiful, right?”

He’ll rest his head on your shoulder and let you take care of him for once. If you compliment him genuinely, he’ll tear up (and immediately scold himself for ruining his makeup).

Idia Shroud

Drunk Idia is chaotic. He suddenly wants to karaoke, take selfies with you. And he won’t shut up.

“BABE! did you know that you’re like, statistically, 1000% cuter than any anime waifu in existence? I ran the math. It’s SCIENCE!”

He’ll cling to you like a lifeline and keep rambling nonsense, but it’s adorable. If you kiss him, he might short circuit and pass out.

Malleus Draconia

Drunk Malleus is dangerously charming and deeply sentimental. His speech gets more poetic, and he becomes incredibly soft and gentle with you.

“You, my starlight… have illuminated centuries of solitude. Touch me… remind me that this warmth is not a dream.”

He’ll stare at you like you hung the moon, and may confess feelings he hasn’t yet voiced sober, like wanting a future together. You’re his tether to humanity in that moment. If you call him cute, expect a very confused but pleased Draconia:

“…Cute? But I’m a terrifying dragon… Am I not?”

..............................................................................................................................

thank you for reading <3

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being the non-mc significant other of lead guitarist! Sylus. part2

Imagine the night was going well, last set of play and they were done for the day until that damn request card came. The way he stared at it under the stage light, jaw ticking, heart twisting in quiet dread. Lips of an Angel. He didn’t need to flip it over. He already knew who it was from.

Imagine the way he gripped the card tighter, wishing it would dissolve in his fist. A request like this wasn’t just a song. It was a test. A fucking ghost tapping on his shoulder. He looked over at the frontman, already nodding, already smiling that smug smile that said "Just do it. One more time won’t kill you."

Imagine he wanted to say no. He should have said no. He almost did. But the crowd was waiting, and when he glanced out across the sea of dim faces, he didn’t see you. If he had, he wouldn’t have done it. Maybe.

Imagine the way the first chord came like muscle memory to him. The way his fingers danced a familiar pattern of pain. He hadn’t played this song for years. Had not sung it in longer. There was no reason for that. He never sings, only does on occasional day but mostly because nowadays, he only sing for you and only you.

Imagine the way he knew this song isn't just music. It was a confession with a melody. And tonight, he was about to lie to the only person who really mattered.

"Honey, why you calling me so late?" The words sat like broken glass in his mouth. They didn’t belong to him anymore. But she was out there.

Imagine the way her eyes, not as sweet and shiny as yours, locked on him. Like he was still that boy who used to write songs about her and pretend it didn’t hurt. Thag made something unspoken twist inside his chest. Not love. Not anymore. It was just unfinished business. The kind that rots if you never open the box.

"I gotta whisper cause I can’t be too loud." He used to believe that. Used to think love had to hide in shadows and stolen glances. But you, you showed him difference. You were sunlight and stability. You laughed at his shitty guitar riffs, kissed the calluses on his fingers, and loved him on the quiet days. You were never a secret.

"Well, my girl’s in the next room" He cringed on the inside. His stomach turned with every lyric. Because you weren't in the next room. You were probably at home, curled up with one of his old hoodies, reading the same damn novel you've been teasing him with for weeks. Or maybe out with friends, texting him when you got home safe. You were his now. And he was yours, only yours. And yet, the song came out like a betrayal he didn't mean to sing.

Imagine he looked at her, MC, only once. Just for a second. She smiled like the world hadn't moved on. Like she still owned a part of him. Maybe she did. Maybe she always would. But what he had with her was then. What he had with you was real. It was now.

Imagine the way he finished the song on autopilot. The way no amount of applause could cut through the guilt already pounding on his chest. The band moved into the next song, but he barely played. His fingers hit strings without hearing them. His mind was somewhere else. Somewhere he couldn't follow.

Imagine he didn't know you were in the crowd. He didn't know you'd planned this as a surprise. He didn't even notice the shift in the crowd. Didn't see you leave. Didn't see your face. Didn't see the hurt. Not yet. Later, when he got backstage, there was a note waiting on him. No name. No message. Just a guitar pick.

Imagine the way his heart dropped. The way he picked up the guitar pick. Custom-made. His initials engraved in your handwriting. He stared at it like it had teeth. Every second he was touching it felt like it burns him. And then it hit him. You were here.

Imagine the way he ran out of the back door. Searched the alley. The parking lot. The street. But you were long gone. The night had swallowed you whole, and it didn't even leave a single echo behind.

Imagine he went home that night and stared at the ceiling in silence. He tried calling. No answer. Tried texting. Left on read. He couldn't sleep. He could not breathe right. Every minute that passed was a beat he felt like he doesn't deserve.

Imagine, the worst part wasn't that he sang to someone he didn't love anymore. It was that he did it thinking you will never know. But you did, and what was the cause?

Imagine he never told anyone what happened that night. Not even the band. He kept it all to himself. And the pick. He kept the pick. Carried it with him like a secret punishment. You were his home. And now, he was just another man who sang the wrong song to the right person who didn’t stay long enough to hear him say sorry.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: part 4 u : imma bake some brownies rq. Bye.

[mdsbabygirl]

Being their fuckbuddy

Pairing: Otoya Eita/Itoshi Sae/Bachira Meguru/Shidou Ryusei/Chigiri Hyoma/Barou Shouei x FEM!reader(separately)

Part2

Synopsis: you're currently emotionally unavailable, yet you still wanna satisfy your sexual urges.. so what do you do? You become fwb with these egoists

Note: I didn't proof read this, so that's why you may find mistakes or parts that are longer than others.

Cw: emotionally unavailable reader, very horny men(especially shidou ooff), womanizer/fuckboy/pegging/roleplays(otoya), views this relationship as purely transactional/hates gossip and rumors(sae), obsessive/simp(Bachira), straight up devil/ has a humiliation kink/kinda harassing ngl/sextape(shidou), very much in love/pussy drunk/simp n°2(chigiri), vengeful/has a superiority complex/he thinks he's your king lol(Barou)

Otoya:

•He's very pleased with this, liking your relationship very much.. he's a free man who likes women, so when you came up to him suggesting the idea, he couldn't deny you. Having such a pretty girl to fuck with no strings attached was hot af to him. He liked the idea of having fun with you in bed, getting to know you on such an intimate level, and the fact that this was in fact ephemeral, meaning he could get out of this whenever he wanted, made him very excited.

•he would come to your house many times a week, just straight up knocking at your door, flashing you one of his sexy smirks when you open the door. With his frame towering over yours, he'd look down at you with lust filled eyes, chasing you with his antics so you'll let him in and ravage you.

•Each encounter with him is very passionate, a unique experience where the both of you get to feel immense pleasure. Otoya would like to keep things fun and exciting, meaning you'd likely experiment with different positions, techniques and scenarios. The both of you had tried everything really, ranging from him fucking and bending you in every position possible, you roleplaying as a little bunny or fox for him, to even pegging... Oh damn he really did enjoy that, the feeling of being dommed by you made him a different kind of tingles down there, the kind that he would love to feel again once you meet up for another encounter.

Sae:

•i think sae would enjoy this kind of relationship too, since it means he won't have to stray much from soccer. Your little link is purely and entirely transactional, you both give each other pleasure and that's it, then everyone goes his separate ways. Sae is known to have a very busy life, meaning he would want to waste time on a gf, that he'd most likely neglect. So in order to spare a poor girl this pain, he'd rather get fwb so that way he can satisfy his urges, without caring about the aftermath.

•Sae would be very strict during the times he meets you, he required you to have no phone, no camera and no recorder whatsoever whenever the two of you meet, he wouldn't want rumors about his personal life spreading around like a wildfire, which is why secrecy means a lot to him. He'd often arrange your meetings at some hotel, avoiding doing it in either of your houses for the reasons mentioned before, that's why all of your fucking sessions happen at luxurious suites or extravagant penthouses.

•whenever Sae fucks you, it's heavenly. He made sure that the two of you are on the same page, setting clear boundaries, and making sure your wants are aligned. His fucking style would be deliberate, going straight to the point, making sure the both of you get the most out of this experience. That's why he wouldn't waste a single second in putting you on all fours, forcefully thrusting behind you so that you're seeing stars and moaning so slutty loud.

Bachira:

•oh man, Bachira is excited beyond imagination at the thought of having such relationship with you. Not only is he such a sucker for good sex but also he's a simp for you. I reckon he'd like having you, touching and pleasuring you, enjoying every second he spends thrusting inside you.. He's never had such an intimate link with someone, so all the freshness this relationship brings to his life, makes him look forward to every one of your encounters.

•Though I think the "no strings attached" part of your relationship would kinda piss him off. I mean, since it would be his first time experiencing something like this, he'd grow somewhat fond of you, getting easily attached and even possessive of you. He'd always want to be by your side, even if it's not in a sexual context, which makes you think he's cute. Still, you remind him whatever you have is purely transactional and it shouldn't spiral into something bigger. He'd always brush you off, pretending to understand and agree with you, while deep inside he'd be thinking about a way to finally make you his.. maybe he could poke holes in the condom next time you meet.. he doesn't know yet, but he will make you his one way or another.

•As for the sex with this man, I think it's be a very funny yet exhilarating experience. Bachira is known for his creativity, meaning he'd always find a way to ignite a new spark to your already interesting sex life. He could do this by exploiting his oral skills, using his destrous tongue to lap at your soaked folds, sucking on your swollen clit, to make you writhe and shake under his touch, or even use his cock.. he'd hold your head in place, using your throat as his fucktoy as he'd play around with the remote of the little vibrator that is pushed deep inside your dripping wet cunt..

Shidou:

•ok this man.. pure filth.. things might've started just as a one nightstand but they quickly spiraled into something way freakier. This man is not only horny, but he's also very um.. unique? I mean, he didn't verbally tell you to be his fwb, he just started showing up at your door frequently, entering your house as if it was his, sitting on the large sofa of your living room, telling you to "come please your demon.." umm.. ok Ryusei, IG the only thing that saves you is your hotness paired with your cock size.. fine with me. So that's how you'd always end up in shidou's lap, legs squished against your chest as his big fat cock bullies its way into your sopping wet cunt. Yeah getting fucked like this in your living room was a very frequent if not daily occurrence.

•since I mentioned earlier that this man is indeed a sex addicted devil, it means that he'd follow you around everywhere, if he doesn't find you at home for your daily sassy time sesh, he'd go out to look for you, and once he finds you, he'd have no shame in just pointing out the fact that you ditched your "date", shidou went as far as to point that out in front of your friends, humiliating you in the worst way possible. After managing to get you home someday, he'd squeeze the plump flesh of your ass, whispering seducingly in your ear, how horny it had made him humiliating you in front of everyone..

•Ryusei would most likely fuck you in the freakiest, most mind-blowing ways. He'd be big on making you go dumb on his dick, reducing you to putty in his hands, and making your mind go blank from all the pleasure he's making you feel. I feel like shidou would also like to film your sexy times, insisting that having a camera pointed at him during such an intimate moment makes his duck ten times harder.. you don't deny him, since this bullshit he's into is kinda hot too.. so whenever your sucking him off, taking his whole length down your tight throat, or riding him like there's no tomorrow while your ass bounces on his fat cock, all while he's moaning like the most slutty pornstar and babbling filthy nonsense.. his little camera is there to record each second of your shared sins..

Chigiri:

•once he laid eyes on you, chigiri felt a burning lust igniting within him, a surging need for your body that left him so needy and starved for your touch. He was so relieved when he finally got to have you, the feeling of your skin on his, the feeling of your tongue on him and your warm wet pussy on his dick was way too addicting.. he wanted more, he wanted to have you more and more each time he got to fuck you. Chigiri didn't consider himself the type to get a fuckbuddy, always opting for a traditional relationship where he could have a living gf he'd love ve and cherish.. but not this time. This time, it was his dick that thought for him, his impeding greed taking over his rationality, making him fall in a dark pitch where only your body was his only salvation.

•chigiri wouldn't mind dating you, really, I mean you're totally his type, plus you're so good at sex, as you always make him feel like he's reaching heaven with how much pleasure you make him feel.; but alas, he doesn't know you enough and since you told him that you wanted no strings attached he couldn't do anything about this anymore. He just had to grip at whatever y'all had, and not let it go no matter what happened. He wasn't possessive, always respecting your boundaries, but deep inside he couldn't deny the lingering feeling of wanting you to be fully his, the endless scenarios of how his life would be if you were more than just his fuck buddy.. yet again, he'd always let those thoughts sink deep within his conciousness, opting that keeping whatever y'all have was better than nothing at all.

•chigiri was so passionate and romantic during sex. His intimate touches, and soft gestures always made you blush and quiver under him so vulnerably. You'd always ask why he'd be so gentle w you, but he'd always smile softly, caressing your face, saying that that's how pretty ladies should be treated.. still, this doesn't mean he couldn't just bend you in whichever position he saw fit and fuck you till you saw stars. In fact, whenever chigiri was very horny, especially after any matches or training, he'd pound you so mercilessly, the fast and rough pace of his thrusts made you so weak in the limbs, making him hold you close to his body, kissing your neck and shoulders as he felt your pussy clench around his cock, milking him of all he's worth, "ahh I'm so close" he'd whimper, biting down on your shoulder..

Barou:

•Barou didn't like one night stands or this fwb trope, he really didn't; or at least that's what he told himself.. it was until he net you that he thought, maybe he could make a little exeption. He did try at first to win you over, doing everything he could to get you to be his gf, but you just didn't want any of that. He felt a bit pissed, not understanding why you wouldn't want him as your bf.. but then when you mentioned your reasonings and the fact that you were open to having a sexual relationship with him, he started to think about this possibility.. I mean, he did like you, surely, but he did also have quite the hunger for your body. He noticed the way you'd sway your hips when you walk around him, wear mini skirts and quite the revealing tops in his company so he thought that if that's what you wanted then he could try it out.. still that didn't mean that if this didn't work out he wouldn't leave.

•since you refused his feelings, it remained only the lust lingering between the two of you. Barou insisted to himself that it was going to be a one time fling, your nonchalance for his emotions already a huge turn off of him, yet he still couldn't get enough of your body, each time he felt the touch of your hands on his chest, the kiss you'd leave on his lips, the squeeze your cunny would give him was way too agonizingly addicting. He shouldn't have given you a chance, he thinks, he should have never accepted your stupid offer, but here he was, laying beside you as he was fingering you, getting you nice and ready for your steamy session, as you were jerking him off. This was your little ritual, the start of your passionate and burning desires, that always left his body satisfied, unlike his mind that was always wandering..

•barou would fuck you roughly, mostly because he likes it that way, but also because it was his little revenge on you for rejecting him. He's quite the revengeful person, so he'd grab at each opportunity he gets, to show you who's your king. That's why, whenever shouei is fucking you in doggy, pressing your head into the mattress, and sinking his cock so deep it might breach your cervix, he'd always ask you who you belong to, reminding you of your weakness against your king's power. "That's right baby, who's your king huh?! Who's your fucking king?!" He'd loudly groan while his dick is stretching you out to the max, making you whimper, cry and just obey this egoist whose insatiable hunger for you turned him into a devilish monster.

© mdsbabygirl do not copy or translate any of my content without my permission.

[myjungkookthighs]

MY FAVORITE JUNGKOOK FANFICS & RECOMMENDATIONS PART1 ✮⋆˙────────୨ৎ───────˙⋆✮

My first lists! These from my favorites JJK fics writers and how amazing their works and most of the fics are top-notch and i really recommend y'all to read it and show some love to their works!! 💗 ( Most of the fics are 🔞+ ) @myjungkookthighs

♥︎— NEEDY | Part 1, Part 2 by @girlygguk ( I'm going to say i love all of my baby lyssa's works she's an amazing writer that i adored so much. All her fics like a drugs to me , top-notch! lol)

nerd!jk x cheerleader!(f)reader

hiding his feelings when you didn’t even know his name was hard. hiding his neediness and obsession when you finally did know his name and you were his fucking girlfriend? impossible. well, then it's a good thing you like him needy.

♥︎—FIRST CLASS | Part 1 by @girlygguk ( chef kiss🤌)

rich student!jk x (f)rich student!reader

in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.

♥︎—CRAZY | Part 1, Part2 by @girlygguk (addicted like a mad person)

ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

♥︎—HABITS (STAY HIGH) | Part1 by @girlygguk

student plug!jk x rich girl!reader

You9:06 PM do you be 🙄’ing other bitches yes or no

♥︎—BAD THINGS | Part 1 by @girlygguk

jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader

getting jealous, sending mixed signals, simping for a gorgeous geek who has no idea what effect she has on him... it's just what jungkook does best. oh, and football. he's really good at football.

♥︎—DENIAL | Part1, Part2 by @girlygguk

idol!jk x (f)actress!reader

it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's ma

♥︎— BETWEEN THE RIDE AND THE ROSES (series) by @focusonkayjay

biker!Jk x flower shop owner!Reader

There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

♥︎— FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE (series)by @dailynnt (Shout out to my love, her fic so amazing !!)

Best friend!Jungkook x Fem!Reader fwb!

What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Jungkook for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

♥︎—OLDER by @lovieku

dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader (i'm sucker for older or dilf jk!😭)

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

♥︎—HANDS ON ME by @lovieku

nerd!jk x popular!fem reader

it’s about to look like jeongguk’s birthday everyday with you.

♥︎—OBVIOUS by @lovieku

bookstore employee!jk x virgin!fem reader

you lose your virginity to jeongguk, the only boy you’d ever trust with such weight. and what you both feel for each other couldn’t be more obvious.

♥︎— GUYS MY AGE (one-shot) Drabble 1, Drabble 2 ,by @kooktrash

dilf jk x female college student!y/n [she/her] ( i had read 3 times cuz i'm sucker of it bcs IT'S CHEF KISS🤌)

a summer spent at your friend’s place wasn’t something to be anything to look forward to. her hot, young dad would seem to change that for you when you decide a game of teasing would suffice your boredom. you got more than you bargained for when you realize he’s not a fan of games.

♥︎— INFRUNAMI by @kooktrash

friends to lovers. y/n[afab, she/her] x best friend jungkook

you’ve made great friends throughout the years but none like jeon jungkook. he’s there for you when you need him and although at times when things get complicated between your feelings and thoughts… there’s one thing for certain. you both have been wasting time acting like there’s nothing between you.

♥︎— DEPEND ON ME by @kooktrash

Hybridbunnygirl!reader x human!jungkook

you’re so used to letting Jungkook do everything for you. he babies you almost and you’re both constantly reminded of the strangeness in your friendship. you’ve always loved him but he can’t see you as anything but the little bunny girl he used to protect. you change his mind

♥︎— NEVER AGAIN by @kooktrash

neighbor!jk x Reader

jeon jungkook is just your nosy neighbor who can’t seem to be anything less than a selfish, heart breaking, prick in your eyes. yet somehow he manages to wiggle his way into your life but is it enough for him to change your mind or will he prove your judgements right?

♥︎—MY DEAR FRIEND by @kooktrash

friends!jk x experienced!reader, f2l ( about a few day need to moved on from this fic)

just friends? keep telling yourself that, you and Jungkook have always danced on the line of friendship and something more but lately you’ve struggled being able to tell where you guys stand.

♥︎— BUNNY ADVENTURES by @kooktrash

hybrid!Jungkook x human!reader

you had absolutely no intentions of ever owning a hybrid until jungkook came along. a mistreated, misunderstood rabbit hybrid who’d only ever wanted was to be treated like an equal.

♥︎— RISQUE (series) by @mercurygguk

older!jk x reader age gap au (my all time favorite 😭)

in which jungkook struggles to keep his relationship with you strictly appropriate and it’s not like you’re making it easy for him.

♥︎— THE DILF INSTALLMENTS (series) by @mercurygguk

dad!jungkook x f. reader

this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

♥︎— THE ART OF (DILF JK SERIES) by @venusiangguk

 dilf jk x grocery store clerk reader ( never over this bcs it's cute 🤧)

you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you

♥︎— ONLY WHEN IT'S US (series) by @luvismenu

Uni! Jungkook x Fem Reader Strangers to??

you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

♥︎— STARBOY (series)by @luvismenu

popular classmate!jungkook x class president!reader

everyone assumes you two can't stand each other, but is that really true?

♥︎—BED CHEM (Mini Series) by @muniimyg

Uni student!Jungkook x uni Student! Reader Frenemies to lovers!

after overhearing jungkook fuck someone else; you can’t help but want out of being his frenemy

♥︎— BABYDADDY!JK (series) by @muniimyg

ex!au jungkook x ex!reader

Co- parenting

♥︎—ITBOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK | (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) by @muniimyg

ITbf!Jk x Fem Reader

♥︎—JUST TAKE IT (series) by @ahgasegotarmy116

Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) dilf! jk

A turn of events has the people you thought you trusted stabbing you in the back and leaving you broken hearted and betrayed. Who knew though that sometimes things just happen for a reason

♥︎—BANG-ABLE (mini one-shot/drabble) by @ahgasegotarmy116

f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook (I'm obsessed!! 😭)

You've been single for way too long and you're done with causal sex and all the drama that comes along with it...so why not try something new?

♥︎— DEEP SIX (mini series) by @bratkook but i read on AO3

biker!jk x reader

It’s like a stranger had a key, came inside of my mind and moved all my things around. He didn’t know snakes can hear the prey, can’t try to break the psyche down.

♥︎— CHAMPANGE CONFFETI by @margotw10bis

boyfriend!Jungkook x camgirl!reader

Your boyfriend loves watching you on live but his whole mood changes when he reads one specific comment from one of your fans

♥︎— PARADISE (series) by @minisugakoobies i read on AO3

 Stripper!Jungkook x Reader (my absolute favorite!😭)

That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

♥︎— THE PINK PILL -"3 DAYS" by @dollfaceksj

best friend!jungkook x fem!reader (top-notch!i read twice😭)

In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

♥︎— THE WEEKEND by @chryblossomjjk

dilf!jk x babysitter reader ( the best thing ever! 😭)

every weekend, you give jungkook a little taste of something he’s missing monday through friday.

♥︎—SUGARPLUM ELERGY by @bymoonchild

College!Jungkook x Reader , fwb (i can't let go of this story top-notch)

You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

♥︎— MICROWAVE (MIS)ADVENTURE by @bymoonchild

housemate!Jungkook x Reader

Out of all things to be afraid of, Jungkook, the seat-stealer of your 8am class and annoying housemate whom you despise with every fiber of your being, chooses to have a phobia of microwaves, but he loves buying microwaveable food – because come on, they’re irresistible – and you somehow find yourself getting dragged into his microwaves (mis)adventures. Cue chaos, sarcasm-laced banter and an unplanned romance.

♥︎— COLD NIGHTS AND BLURRED LINES| WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES| cnbldrabbles by @awrkive

basketball!jungkook x nerdy!(fem) reader,fwb (i'm crazy over this 😭)

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

♥︎—CAN'T LET IT GO (part 1)| PHYSICALLY OBSESSED(part2) by @chunghasweetie

dom!oc x nerdysub!jjk

loser nerd jk has crushed on her for years and is assigned to be her college tutor for her calculus class. studying doesn’t go exactly as planned and he ends up losing his virginity in the best way possible.

oc finally cuffs jk and they celebrate

♥︎— HE GIVE IT TO ME (Part1) | WONT TOUCH YOU LIKE ME (Part2)by @chunghasweetie

fem!oc x dealer!jjk

always giving out free shit to his favorite customer.

after a petty argument jungkook spots you showing out at a party with the hosts arm around your waist.

♥︎— MERAKI by @taegularities

grumpy!Jk x sunshine!reader

Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

♥︎—NO NUT NOVEMBER by @2hightocare

dilf!jungkook x fem!reader

Jungkook didn’t think stuff through when he made a bet for “No Nut November” he seemed to forget that he can’t say no to you.

♥︎— FOR ME (DILF!JK DRABBLES COLLECTION ) by @personasintro

dilf!jungkook x reader

A collection of drabbles accompanied with dilf!jk

♥︎— BURNING HOUR by @jungqkook

Richbf!jk x gf!reader (you gonna need holy water later lmao!)

there’s nothing better than spending an entire day at your boyfriend’s yatch, tanning and waiting for the sunset with a drink in your hand… too bad your boyfriend had other plans for you.

♥︎—BETTER BOYFRIEND THAN HIM by @jungqkook

friend!Jk x reader

jungkook makes it a mission to prove to you that he can be better than your boring boyfriend. when it comes to sex, at least.

♥︎— FIGHT FOR YOU (series) by @ahundredtimesover

bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader

Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along.

♥︎— GUARDED by @junghelioseok

bodyguard!Jk x Reader

❛❛ good girl. ❜❜ ❛❛ don’t get shy on me now. ❜❜

♥︎—BODYGUARD by @sxtaep

bodyguard!jk, idol!reader

when you’re stuck in a near-death situation, your high school crush, now your bodyguard, begins to regret ever rejecting you 5 years ago.

♥︎—STRIKE THREE by @avveh (ao3)

Bodyguark!jk x Bratty!Reader ( i'm obsessed!)

When discipline and chaos meet, one will always rise to the top.

♥︎— EVERYTHING IN YOU |Part1, Part2 , DRABBLE1, DRABBLE 2, DRABBLE 3 by @jjungkookislife

roommate!sperm donor Jk x pregnant! Reader (my favorite iso cute)

You want a baby and Jungkook is willing to help

♥︎— BABYMAKER by @badbtssmut

bestfriend!Jk x Reader

You want a baby, but you just broke up with your boyfriend but your best friend Jungkook offers you the solution to your heart break, he’ll give you your baby, no strings attached.

♥︎— SPECIAL PREPARATION by @badbtssmut

Piercer!Jungkook x Reader

You go to a piercing shop to get a clit piercing but your piercer Jungkook has an interesting way of prepping his clients.

─────────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

Actually i like all Miss Cherry @redcherrykook fics and i read them all and her works always the bomb never disappointed me and here i will share my most favorites from her🤪💗

♥︎— SAFEWORD

daddy!jungkook and sub oc

♥︎—SPOT ME INSTEAD

gymrat!JK x gymrat!reader

♥︎—MIDNIGHT SNACK

idol!Jk x gf!Reader

♥︎—MILK AND CREAM

sub!JKx noona!Reader

♥︎—BAD BOY,GOOD GIRL/HIGHSCHOOL SWEET

highschool sweethearts!jk x Reader

♥︎— (TENT)ATIVE ENEMIES

friendnemie!Jk x Reader

♥︎— Kinktober D1-SOMNOPHILLIA

needy JK x reader

♥︎—Kinktober D8- OFFICER PLAYS & CUFFS

roleplay!!JKx bad girl oc

♥︎—Kinktober D10- SPANKING & PUNISHING

DADDY KINK JK! x sub oc

♥︎—Kinktober D12- MIRROR SEX

idol bf! Jk x gf! Reader

♥︎—Kinktober D16- MARKING

possessive bf! JK x Reader

♥︎—Kinktober D19- DACRYPHILLIA (crying kink)

Daddy! Jk x Crybaby! reader

♥︎—Kinktober D22- EXHIBITIONISM

bf!jk x gf reader

by @redcherrykook

That's it for part1 !

[wooyoungiewritings]

Borrowed Time - Seonghwa x Reader (Part 3)

Summary: You try to be honest and tell your husband about your relationship with Seonghwa, but it doesn't quite go after plan. But you've had enough of playing nice, so you break the rules and give in to your hunger for Seonghwa. But what happens when it all comes crashing down when it's all perfect, and your husband gives you an ultimatum?

Word count: 9.8K

Genre: Fluff, Rich Seonghwa, angst, DRAMA (u might cry), slow burn, smut (YAAAALLLL THIS IS FILTHYYYYY IM SO SORRY MOM AND DAD)

warnings: Seonghwa with reader (fem pronouns), TEASINGGG omg, DOM Seonghwa, fingering, oral (fem receiving), choking, spitting, LOTS of dirtytalk, creampie, aftercare (<3), heartbreak (?), lmk if I missed anything!

PART2 PART4

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

The day after the annual company dinner, you're home alone again, waiting for your husband to be home. The quiet pressing in like a weighted blanket. You’ve opened the same text thread with your husband three times, thumb hovering over a message you never send. The words feel too heavy for a screen. Too fragile to survive being read without your voice wrapped around them.

So you wait. He said he’d be home all Sunday, but there’s no sight of him.

You sit on the edge of the couch, elbows on your knees, hands twisted together in your lap. You’re picking at a hangnail, teeth digging into your bottom lip, while the clock on the wall ticks out its judgment in slow, steady seconds. Every imagined version of the conversation plays through your head, ten different openings, twelve different ways to admit you’ve been falling into something deep and real with someone else. With Seonghwa. With his boss.

But every sentence feels like a betrayal. Too guilty. Too selfish. Too bold. And too late to take back.

You don’t even hear the front door open until it bangs shut behind him with the kind of energy that says he’s already somewhere else in his head.

“Babe! Babe, I’m just grabbing a charger, and have you seen my blue striped shirt?” His voice echoes down the hallway, fast and distracted. You hear his shoes hit the floor one after the other, the thud of his bag against the wall.

You blink, your body lurching upright from the couch. “You’re home late.”

“Yeah, had to grab some things, heading over to her place,” he calls back casually, like it’s not a blade between your ribs.

You follow the sound of his voice, your bare feet quiet against the floor. Your pulse is already climbing, fast and hot in your neck. He’s in the bedroom, already yanking open drawers like it’s a routine he’s done a hundred times. Maybe he has.

His shirt’s only half buttoned, hair still damp from a rushed shower, a duffel bag hanging off one shoulder. He doesn’t even glance at you as he moves.

You stop in the doorway. Hover. “I-, can we talk for a second?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, talk while I pack,” he says, like it’s all so simple. “You always catch me at the last minute, you know that? It’s like your special skill or something.”

You watch him toss a pair of jeans into the bag, roll up a hoodie, cram it in too tight. The sleeves are sticking out. He doesn’t care.

“I have something important to say.”

“Hit me,” he says, not even looking up. “As long as it’s not about the gas bill, I paid it. And hey, guess what? Jen and Caleb broke up. You totally called that, didn’t you?”

You open your mouth, close it. “I-”

“Also,” he goes on, now moving around the room with a momentum you can’t stop, “We’re going to this wine cabin thing next weekend with her friends. Fancy place, hot tub, the works. Kinda insane. You’d hate it.” He laughs, like he hasn’t left you alone for months while you tried to convince yourself this arrangement wasn’t breaking you.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” you say, loud enough that it forces him to pause.

Only for a second. Then he zips the side pocket of his bag and straightens. “Really?” He flashes you a grin over his shoulder. “Finally! Thank God. I was starting to think you were gonna fossilize in front of that dumb dating show you like.”

Your stomach turns. “I-”

“No, seriously, I’m glad,” he says, swinging the bag onto both shoulders like the conversation is a warm-up for something more interesting. “This is the whole point, right? Open and honest. No secrets. No drama. This is growth. Proud of you.” He gives you a joking little salute. “So? Who is he? Mystery man from the supermarket? Did you fall for a barista? Actually-, don’t tell me. Keep it spicy.”

You try again. Your voice is trembling now, no matter how hard you try to sound steady. “I think you should know. It’s-”

He cuts you off, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Babe, I’m happy for you. Really. You needed this. You’ve been so... closed off. Like you forgot how to flirt. It’s good for you to feel wanted again.”

The words land like a slap. He’s still talking, but all you hear is the echo of that condescending tone. Like you’re broken. Like you’re someone he’s left behind without ever saying goodbye.

“It’s Seonghwa,” you say.

But he’s already back to packing, muttering, “Shit, where’s my charger?” as he digs through the mess on the desk. He doesn’t hear you. Or maybe he does and chooses not to react.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you can barely hear yourself breathe.

He finds the charger, tucks it into his bag, and strides over to you. Kiss your cheek like everything’s fine. Like you’re still just his wife waiting around for him to come and go.

“Maybe this means we should keep the open thing going, huh?” he says with a grin. “Not just a year. Could be a lifestyle. You know, modern love and all that.”

You can’t even speak. Your throat’s too tight, your mouth too dry. Everything inside you is screaming, but all you do is stare.

“I gotta go,” he says. “She’s waiting. I’ll be back tomorrow or the day after.”

And then he’s gone. The door closes with a click.

You don’t move.

Not right away.

You just stand there in the hallway, trembling, your chest tight with something worse than hurt, disbelief. He didn’t care. Not even a little. You gave him the opening. You handed him your honesty. And he brushed right past it like it was a grocery list.

You had waited to be fair. Waited to be honest. Made yourself wait. Made Seonghwa wait. Waited until your heart couldn’t hold back anymore. Let the tension simmer, even when it hurt. You held Seonghwa at arm’s length for this?

You don’t even realize you’ve stood there for ten whole minutes until your legs start to ache. The door’s been shut. The apartment is silent. He’s gone. Again. And you’re still holding words that no one wanted to hear.

Something in you snaps.

You tried. You tried to do this the right way. You held yourself back for months, swallowed every urge, every look, every breathless pause between you and Seonghwa. You gave your husband time. Honesty. Respect. And it meant nothing.

Your hands shake as you grab your phone. No texts. No calls. No warning.

You just type in the address and call the cab.

The ride there is a blur. The driver makes small talk; you barely nod. Your knee bounces the whole way, fingers clenching in your lap like you can hold yourself together for just a few more minutes. Your heart is loud. Your mouth dry. Your body humming like it already knows.

You need him.

You need Seonghwa.

The second the cab pulls up to his building, you’re out. You don’t even wait for the receipt. You take the stairs because the elevator’s too slow. Every step feels like shedding.

Guilt, fear, hesitation. Gone. Gone. Gone.

You’re done waiting.

You knock, hard. Then again. You don’t even know if he’s home, don’t care what time it is, don’t care if you’re supposed to be polite.

When the door swings open, he’s there.

Soft shirt, loose belted pants, hair a little messy, like you caught him mid-evening routine. There’s music playing low in the background, some warm jazz tune, and the apartment smells like ginger and something sweet.

He blinks at first, surprised, but the second he sees your face, his expression shifts. 

Gentle. Open.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and careful. “Are you-?”

You don’t let him finish.

You grab the collar of his shirt, pull him down, and kiss him like you’ve been drowning for weeks. It’s messy. Desperate. His lips part with a soft sound of surprise, and then he’s kissing you back just as hard.

Your fingers thread into his hair. His hands find your waist, steadying you, grounding you, but you don’t want to be steady. You want to fall. Into him. Onto him. Through him.

His hands find your waist, but you’re already pressing forward, and your back hits the door with a quiet thud. Your hands slide beneath his sweatshirt, nails dragging across the bare skin of his stomach. His breath shudders.

“Wait,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “Did you-, how did it-”

“Shut up,” you whisper, breathless, half-wild. You drag your mouth along his jaw, nip at his skin until he swallows hard. “Just fuck me. Now.”

His hands tighten at your waist. There’s a beat of stunned silence, like you just shattered whatever calm he had left.

Seonghwa’s smirk is all heat and mischief, but behind it, fire. “Yes ma’am.”

He lifts you in one fluid motion, arms firm beneath your thighs, and your breath catches as your back leaves the door. You wrap your legs around him instantly, clinging to the only thing that feels steady right now, him. His lips find yours again, hungry and claiming, as he carries you down the hall like he’s memorized the way blind.

You’re both breathing hard when the door swings open, when he walks you inside like he can’t afford to stop. And he can’t. He places you on the edge of the bed like you’re breakable, his last moment of gentleness, and your back hits the bed. He hovers over you, eyes devouring every inch of your face, your body, like he doesn’t know where to start because he wants everything at once. 

Seonghwa doesn’t speak right away. His fingers trail up your thighs, slow and rough, like he’s making up for every second he couldn’t have you like this.

You open your mouth, but all that comes out is a soft whimper when his fingers curl around your hips, tugging you closer so your thighs frame his waist. He leans in, mouth brushing your jaw as his hand slides up, fingers splaying over your throat, not squeezing, not yet, but letting you feel the pressure. The control.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks. “You have no idea what you just started.” his fingers wrap around your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his. He leans in closer until his mouth brushes your cheek, your jaw, your lips, but doesn’t kiss you. 

Not yet.

“Tell me,” he growls. “Tell me I can have you. Tell me you’re mine tonight.”

You whisper, trembling, “I’m yours. All of me.”

He lets out a sharp breath, almost a laugh, but there’s nothing soft about it. It’s dark and aching. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and there’s nothing sweet there now. Just heat. Possession.

His hand slides down your stomach, slow and firm, and your hips arch before he even reaches the edge of your pants.

Your thighs press tighter around him. “Please,” you whisper, already breathless.

He laughs softly, low and cruel and utterly delighted. "That’s cute. But I haven’t even started." He tilts your head back by your throat and presses his mouth to yours, hot and slow, tongue sliding in with a groan like he’s starving.

He doesn’t take you right away.

Not like you expected. Not like you begged for.

He could. God, he wants to. He’s hard already, pulsing against you through his clothes, and every brush of your thighs makes him twitch with the effort it takes to hold back. But he doesn’t move fast. He just watches you for a long moment, thumb brushing the corner of your lips.

“I should make you wait,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “After all the things you’ve done.”

You’re panting, your chest rising with every breath, but you still manage a small, confused sound. “What things?”

He smiles, slow and dark. “Coming to my home in your little dresses, teasing me when you knew I couldn’t do anything. Sitting across from me at dinner like you weren’t soaking wet under the table. You think I didn’t notice?”

You whimper.

He dips his head lower, nose trailing your throat, and inhales. “You wanted me to lose control.”

You try to speak, but his hand slides up your inner thigh and all you can do is gasp.

“You wanted me to break. To forget I’m your husband’s boss. To drag you into a room and fuck you like you were mine already.” His lips brush your ear. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper, almost ashamed, but you shouldn’t be. Not with the way he growls low in his throat at your answer, like your honesty just made him hungrier.

“But I didn’t,” he says. “I was good.” His eyes roam your body, and there’s heat, awe, and vengeance all at once. “Now?” His hands slide to your hips, fingers curling tight. “Now I’m not going to be good.”

His shirt is unbuttoned now, but still on. His belt is still tight around his waist. Your breath catches, lips swollen, thighs pressed together as you chase after his mouth. He chuckles darkly, dragging his eyes over you as if deciding what he’s going to do to you first.

“You’re shaking already,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles slowly along your jaw. “What happened to the girl who liked to tease me until I couldn’t speak?”

His fingers trace the hem of your top, moving so slow it’s maddening. He drags it up, inch by inch, until your skin is on display, but he doesn’t touch. He just looks.

“Take it off for me.”

Your hands shake as you pull it over your head. His eyes never leave yours.

“Good girl.”

You shiver.

He pulls your jeans down slowly, deliberately, like every inch of exposed skin is something he needs to memorize. His fingers trail down the insides of your thighs as he goes, mouth following with kisses that are too soft, too slow, because he knows it drives you crazy.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, almost reverent, almost. Because then he grins. Sharp. Dangerous. “So fucking pretty when you’re desperate.”

You whimper, hips tilting toward him, needing him to do something, anything, and he just tuts like you’re a misbehaving student.

“Nuh-uh.” His palms flatten against your inner thighs, pushing you down, keeping you there. “You don’t get to be greedy. Not tonight. You made me wait, sweetheart. Now it’s your turn.” He leans down slowly, lips ghosting across your skin, from the inside of your knee to your hipbone. Not kissing where you need him, not yet, just tracing. Breathing. Teasing.

And when you try to move your hips again, chasing his mouth, he just pins you harder.

“I said wait.”

The growl in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. He kisses up your stomach instead. Licks between your breasts. Sinks back to press one single kiss just above your underwear. And stops there.

He leans in close, lips barely brushing your soaked heat through the fabric.

“Say please.”

You’re wrecked already, panting, trembling. “Please.”

He smiles. “Not yet.”

Then he spits. A slow trail between your legs that soaks into the thin fabric, and finally drags his tongue up the damp center, just once.

You sob.

He grins and pushes your panties to the side. He slides a single, thick finger between your folds, and yes.

You’re soaked.

He moans softly against your skin, lips trailing lower. “Fuck-, listen to that,” he hisses, dragging his finger up and down slowly, gathering the slick. “You’re dripping for me.”

“Seonghwa,” you gasp, back arching.

He pushes the finger in. Slowly. Torturously. “You think one’s enough for you?” he asks, curling it just so. “Or are you gonna be a greedy little thing and ask for more?”

You’re already moaning his name, eyes wet, hands trembling. He adds a second finger without warning, stretching you open while his thumb circles your clit in lazy, teasing swipes.

“Every time you begged and bit your lip and walked away like a good girl, this is what I imagined,” he growls. Then his fingers leave you completely. 

His fingers withdraw slowly from your dripping heat, and he chuckles darkly when your hips lift off the bed, chasing him. “No. No, no,” he tuts, dragging his slick fingers up your stomach, up to your lips. “You don’t get to grind up against my hand like some needy little brat.”

He presses those soaked fingers into your mouth, firm and controlling. “Suck.”

You do. You’re eager, moaning around his fingers as your tongue swirls over the taste of yourself, cheeks hollowing like it’s instinct. And it is. Because you’re hungry. Starved. And he’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“God, sweetheart” he groans, his jaw tight as he watches. “You don’t even know how fucking perfect you are like this. You’re gonna ruin me.”

You know he’s teasing you. You know he’s making you wait for him to fill you up but, gosh. Somehow you never want this to end. Him touching you, tasting you, teasing you. It’s all worth it.

“Get back,” he says lowly, voice a dark command as he stands at the foot of the bed. “Hands above your head. Keep them there.”

You obey instantly. He watches you for a moment, clothed from the waist down while you're half-naked and trembling beneath his gaze.

He tosses the belt to the side with a quiet thud, then removes his shirt completely. His chest rises with each breath, toned and golden under the warm lighting, his veins prominent down his arms, jaw tight from restraint.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” he mutters, voice rougher now, his control thinning. “Weeks. Weeks of you crawling into my lap, whispering pretty little things, looking up at me with those eyes like you had no idea what you were doing.” He steps back between your legs. “And I didn’t touch you. Because I respected your rules. I waited.”

“But now look at you,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “Finally laid out the way I’ve wanted you. Needy, soaking, begging for me.” He starts undoing his jeans, slow and deliberate, making a show of it. 

You whimper his name, thighs instinctively rubbing together for friction.

He sees it. “Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

You freeze. He smirks.

Jeans open, he slides them down his hips, leaving only his black briefs, soaked at the tip, the outline of his cock pressed tight against the fabric. And he takes his time climbing back onto the bed, crawling over your body until he’s hovering over you.

“You want me inside you?” he whispers, voice low like a secret. “You think you’ve earned that?”

You nod quickly, lips parted. “Yes-, yes, please-”

His hand shoots out, wrapping firmly around your throat again, thumb pressing just enough to make your breath catch.

“You ready?” he asks, voice deeper, ruined. “You ready for me to fuck you like I should’ve the first night?”

“Yes, please Seonghwa-”

He cuts you off with a hard kiss, tongue claiming your mouth again. But when he pulls back, he goes to place kisses everywhere he can. Your cheeks, your jaw, your forehead, below your ear, your neck. In the midst of his dominance, he still takes time to worship you, make you feel safe. Feel loved.

“Holy fuck,” he growls. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

He kisses you all the way down your stomach. And then, finally, he slides one hand between your legs again, pushing your panties aside, and spits down on your cunt, slow and filthy, fingers immediately spreading the mess over your clit in deep, slow circles.

You cry out, body jerking, but his free hand slams down on your hip to hold you in place.

You’re a wreck. Sweat slicking your skin. Lips parted. Nails digging into the sheets as if that’s the only thing keeping you on this plane of existence.

“You want me to ruin you, my love?” he whispers, finally dragging his tongue over your clit, once, slow, cruelly gentle. “Want me to fuck you like you’ve always belonged to me?”

“Yes,” you cry, high and broken and wrecked. “Please, Seonghwa-, I’m yours, I’m yours, I swear-, just take me, take me-”

He watches you squirm beneath him, the heel of his palm rolling slow, relentless circles over your clit while his fingers just barely dip between your folds.

“You like this?” he whispers, voice like silk over gravel.

You whimper. It’s not even a yes, it’s just sound now, your body too wound up to form words.

And he knows it. His fingers are relentless but never fast, just deep, slow pressure, teasing you right up to the edge.

And then stopping.

Again.

“Seonghwa-, please-” You’re full-on begging now, thighs shaking.

He grinds his cock slowly against your skin, still clothed, letting you feel how hard he is.

Your moan cracks into a sob as his fingers slip away again, leaving you soaked, trembling, and painfully empty. And Seonghwa just smiles.

“That’s it,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “Beg like that. You’ve been making me suffer for so long, baby. Do you know how many nights I lay in bed with your taste still on my lips and my cock in my hand?”

He drags two fingers along your thigh, smearing spit and slick in slow, idle patterns.

“You'd text me goodnight like nothing happened,” he growls, eyes flicking to yours. “Pretending you didn’t grind on me till you came. Acting like I wouldn’t have ripped those panties off if I had half a chance.”

His voice is slipping now. Rougher, lower, needier.

“Look at me.”

You do. Wide-eyed. Drenched.

“Open your legs.”

You obey without thinking, and he grins. 

“Good fucking girl.”

He rises to his knees, finally shoving his briefs down and off. His cock springs free, hard, heavy, flushed at the tip. And your body arches before you even realize it, your thighs shaking at the sheer sight of him.

But still, he pauses.

Gripping his cock at the base, he strokes it slow, dragging his palm up and letting his spit drip onto the head before working it down again.

“You want this?” he says through gritted teeth. “Want me to fuck you till you forget your own name?”

You nod, breathless. “Yes-, God, yes, Seonghwa, please-”

He grabs your hips, drags you down the bed toward him. You feel the head of his cock press between your folds, finally, finally there. He rocks forward, just enough to sink in a little—

And then stops. Not even halfway.

You scream. “Seonghwa-!”

He leans down, mouth by your ear. “You’re mine.”

And then, without warning, he slams the rest of the way in.

Your cry breaks into a choked gasp, back arching hard off the bed. He’s deep, impossibly deep, and already moving, dragging out slowly, then slamming back in, harder. Again. And again.

“Is this what you’ve been teasing me for? Driving me crazy, wearing those tight little jeans, grinding on my lap, acting like you didn’t know what you were doing?”

Your words come out in broken moans. “Yes, yes-please, don’t stop-”

“Oh, baby.” His hand wraps around your throat again. “I’m not stopping.”

And he doesn’t. He fucks you like he owns you, filthy, hard, punishingly slow at times just to make you sob.

But the whole time, he’s in control.

Grinning when you beg.

Groaning when your body clenches down.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of reverence, as if he’s worshipping you even in this moment. He pulls out just enough to make you whine, only to slam back in with a force that makes you see stars. 

“Seonghwa, please… please…” you cry out, desperate for release, your voice breaking with need. “I need you-, please, don’t stop…”

Seonghwa doesn't waste another second. He moves with a kind of urgency, yet his every action is precise, deliberate. He pulls you into him again, lips crashing against yours in a deep, desperate kiss. His hands are everywhere, tracing every curve of your body like he's memorizing it, every touch stoking the flames of your need.

His hand doesn’t leave your throat as he shifts you, rough but careful, guiding you down with an edge of possessiveness that leaves you dizzy. "Turn over," he growls against your ear, voice dark, ragged. “Face down. Now.”

You obey, breath catching, and he helps you onto your stomach. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, dragging your body back to him, not even giving you a second to fully settle before he’s inside you again, thick, hot and unrelenting.

“He might be your husband on paper” Seonghwa murmurs, dragging his palm up your back, nails grazing your skin. “But you’re mine in every other way.”

He grinds his hips slow, purposefully, just to feel your reaction. You let out a needy sound and he chuckles darkly. His hand grabs your wrist and pins it to the mattress. Then the other. His palm presses down between your shoulder blades, holding you there as he places kisses on your back. “You don’t have to do anything. Just lie back and let me worship you like you deserve.”

He pulls out so slowly you want to scream, the stretch of him leaving you hollow, empty, until he slams back in.

“Fuck, Seonghwa-, you’re so good-”

“You like when I fuck you like this, huh? When I can't get enough of you?” he pants, voice right at your ear now, body flush to yours, pinning you down completely. Then his free hand snakes around your throat again, tight and possessive. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, the words ragged, broken, desperate.

“That’s right,” he snarls, pace shifting again, slow, torturous, dragging every inch of himself out before slamming back in. “You fucking are.”

And god, he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. The sound of skin meeting skin, the slick, messy wetness of it all, it’s obscene. He’s filthy, ruthless, a man starved, and finally allowed to feast. And yet… through all the roughness, there’s something deeper, rawer.

His pace becomes more erratic, more frantic, as though he can’t hold back any longer. His hands are everywhere now, gripping, squeezing, marking. Each movement is purposeful, designed to make you feel owned, cherished, in the most deliciously painful way.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he grinds out, his voice a low rasp. Your body is trembling beneath him, your breath coming in desperate gasps, and he watches, enraptured by the way you fall apart for him, piece by piece.

You can feel your release building, so close. “Please,” you gasp, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Seonghwa… please… I’m so close.”

He chuckles, dark and low, as if he’s savoring every second of your desperation. “That’s it, that’s my girl. So good for me. Always so good for me.”

He drives into you again, deeper than before, the words setting you off completely. Your body goes rigid with the force of it, your back arching into him, every inch of you trembling.

And that’s when he finally, finally, lets go.

He pulls you into him, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, his hand back on your throat, guiding you through your release as his own crashes over him. His grip tightens on your skin, marking you, holding you there, as if he never wants to let you go.

Your body trembles beneath him, legs weak, breath coming in stuttering waves as the final crash of pleasure still echoes through you. Seonghwa is barely holding himself together, buried deep, groaning low and broken against your skin as he spills inside you, gripping your hips like he’s anchoring himself to reality. His whole body is tense, desperate, surrendering.

But the second it’s over, the shift is immediate.

He exhales shakily and gently lowers himself down, his weight easing over you like a warm blanket. His arms come around you instantly, protective, careful, not a single trace of that merciless dominance left in his touch now. He kisses your shoulder, your back, your spine, all soft, slow, reverent. Like you're something sacred.

He eases out of you with utmost care, kissing the center of your spine before whispering, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back, my love.”

The bed shifts as he leaves, and you lie there, boneless, dazed, heart thudding against your ribs, not just from the intensity, but from the weight of the moment. This meant something. It always did.

When Seonghwa returns, his touch is impossibly tender. He kneels beside you and gently rolls you onto your back, using a warm cloth to clean you, every movement slow, soothing, reverent. Not a word is spoken, but his eyes never leave yours, and they say everything.

You reach up to touch his face, but he catches your wrist and presses a kiss to the inside of it, then your palm, then each fingertip.

“I’m sorry I was rough,” he whispers, like the thought alone tortures him.

You shake your head. “You weren’t… not in a bad way. You knew what I needed.”

His arms tighten. “Still… I want to take care of you. Let me take care of you now.”

He finishes cleaning you up and disappears for a moment again. When he returns, he climbs under the covers and pulls you into his arms, your head tucked beneath his chin, your body cradled tight against his chest. He wraps himself around you like he’s trying to protect you from the rest of the world. Like maybe if he holds you tight enough, time will stop.

“I’ll remember this,” he whispers. “All of it. Every second.”

“I will too.”

There’s silence. Soft, heavy, laced with emotion too big for words. His hands roam your back in slow, calming motions. He kisses your hair, your forehead, your cheek.

“I wanted to be good,” he says. “Wanted to respect your boundaries. Your marriage. But every time you looked at me like that... I knew I’d never be the same.”

Your chest aches. You can’t help it, you curl closer.

“I don’t know how to be without you anymore,” you confess.

His arms tighten. “Then don’t be. Even if it’s just like this. Even if we’re pretending the world doesn’t exist.”

You nod, tears stinging your eyes. You don’t let them fall. Not tonight.

Because tonight isn’t for sorrow.

It’s for his hands, gentle as they explore your skin like a prayer. It’s for his voice, low and warm, humming soft nothings into your ear. It’s for his heart, beating steady beneath your cheek, a rhythm you’ll remember long after this ends.

It’s for the way he kisses you like you’re his whole world, even if he can’t keep you.

Even if he never could.

***

It had been a month since you finally caved. A month of living in the quiet space between reality and fantasy. Of pretending that time didn’t matter, that hearts couldn’t break if you just held each other tightly enough.

You and Seonghwa had taken that idea and run with it.

You’d spent almost every free moment in his orbit—lazy mornings tangled in sheets, late-night drives just to hold hands in silence, dinners you cooked together with music playing in the background and wine glasses left forgotten. You found parts of yourself again in his arms. Laughed like you used to. Kissed like you were starving. And Seonghwa, he loved you with the patience of a man who knew he might not get to love you forever.

Neither of you said it out loud. But you both knew.

You were still married, after all. Technically. Legally. Logistically. 

And you found yourself, for the first time in a long time, wanting to go somewhere just to see someone’s face light up when you walked through the door.

That’s what led you here.

Late afternoon, just cool enough to wear a sweater, coffee cups warm in your hands as you step into Seonghwa’s office building. You haven’t told him you’re coming. You don’t want to give him a chance to say no. You just want to see him. To remind him that, even in the middle of his workday, he’s wanted. Missed. Thought about.

Of course you know the risk of seeing your husband here, but he usually leaves work before this time. The messages from your husband has grown sparse. Short check-ins about rent, reminders about trash day or Wi-Fi bills. He doesn’t ask where you were. Doesn’t seem to care. He’s always at her place, anyway.

So you stopped telling him where you were going.

You step into the elevator, heart thudding, watching the floors tick up one by one. You know which office is his.

You reach his office door and hesitate for a second, the smell of roasted beans curling up with the nerves in your chest. In one hand, the folder he forgot, left on the nightstand in the rush of morning kisses and whispered promises not to be late. In the other, two coffees from the little place you always stop at together. His favorite, made just the way he likes it.

The door to his office is cracked just slightly open. You push it gently, peeking your head inside.

He’s standing near the window, phone to his ear, one hand in his pocket as he speaks with that low, composed voice he uses when he is working. His jacket is gone, his tie loose, a few buttons undone. You watch him a second too long, how could you not?

He glances up mid-sentence and freezes when he sees you.

His eyes widen, then softens in that familiar way that always makes your stomach flip. A little stunned, then flooded with something warm and unspoken. He gives a quick, murmured goodbye into the phone, hanging up fast before taking a step toward you.

“You’re here,” he says, surprised, voice breaking into a grin. “What-”

“You forgot these,” you lift the folder. “Found them on the dresser. Figured you’d need them.”

“And I couldn’t resist bringing this,” you add, offering one of the coffees. “Because I’m incredibly generous. And also maybe I missed you.”

His laugh is soft, delighted, boyish. “You spoil me.”

“Only a little.”

Seonghwa steps forward, takes the coffee from your hand, but it’s your wrist he holds onto just a second longer than necessary, eyes lingering on your face like he can’t decide whether to speak or kiss you.

“I thought about you all day,” he murmurs, voice quieter now. “Kept thinking about this morning.”

“Me too,” you say, your tone just as soft.

His thumb strokes your wrist gently. “Close the door for me?”

The moment it clicks shut behind you, it’s like gravity pulls you straight into him. You don’t even think, your body moves on instinct, reaching for him just as he steps into you, one hand sliding to the small of your back, the other cradling your cheek as his lips find yours.

The kiss is slow, but only for a second. Then it grows deeper. Needy, familiar, warm. His mouth opens against yours like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you all over again, his hand tightening at your waist as you lean into him, letting your coffee press into his chest so your other arm could wrap around his neck.

“You should get back to work.” you whisper against his lips, breathless.

“You know how I feel when you’re playing the boss-card,” he murmurs, chasing your mouth again, lips brushing yours between words. “It’s dangerous territory.”

You giggle softly, tilting your head as he nuzzles into your neck, kissing the skin there like it was his favorite secret. His hands roam gently, still careful even as his mouth betrays just how much he has missed you.

“I shouldn’t stay long,” you whisper, not meaning a word of it.

“Then let me be quick,” he teases, breath hot against your jaw.

“You never are,” you whisper, tugging him closer.

But when he finally pulls back, there’s something lingering in his gaze. A shift. A decision.

“I’m leaving,” Seonghwa says softly.

You blink. “What?”

“I’m done for the day.” He sets his coffee aside, already reaching for his suit jacket. “I’ve been working non-stop. I miss you. Let’s get early dinner.”

Your heart flutters. “Are you sure?”

He shoots you a smile over his shoulder. “I’m the boss, remember?”

You laugh, watching him tidy a few files with one hand while he slips his watch back on with the other. Within minutes, he has everything locked down. Then he comes to you, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature.

“Ready, my love?”

You nod, warmth blooming in your chest as he opens the office door.

You walk down the hall together, hand in hand, every step light and quiet like the world belongs to you both for just a little longer. But when the elevator dings, and you stand waiting for it to arrive, Seonghwa turns toward you again.

His hand slips to your waist, the other brushing your cheek as he leans in. This kiss is different. Slower, deeper, something molten in the way his mouth lingers on yours. It curls your toes, sends a hum through your chest, and leaves you dizzy.

And then…

“Y/N?”

The voice cuts through the air like glass.

You freeze.

Seonghwa’s lips are still brushing yours when your eyes fly open and see your husband standing several feet away.

He’s alone. No colleagues in sight, no buffer. Just him… and the truth he had clearly just walked in on. His gaze flickers between your face and Seonghwa’s. Down to your hands. Back to your lips. His mouth opens, but no words come out.

He clearly didn't expect this.

You step back instinctively, like space might soften the blow. “I-”

“That’s him?” he cuts in, voice sharp. “That’s who you’re seeing?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes. You can’t find your voice. You haven’t prepared for this, this collision of both your lives, here, now, in the open.

His eyes widens, expression laced with disbelief. “You’re dating him?” He asks again. “Jesus Christ, Y/N. My boss? You’re screwing my boss?”

“Watch your tone.” Seonghwa’s voice cut through the tension like steel. He steps forward slightly. Not aggressive, but protective. Firm.

Your husband’s eyes snap to him. “You know she’s married.”

“I do.” Seonghwa’s expression didn’t waver. “I also know she’s in an open marriage. A situation you created.”

You take a shaky breath, trying to speak, but no words come. You can’t do this here, not like this.

Seonghwa turns and sees the way you’re frozen. Hands shaking, eyes glossy, lips parted like they wants to move but can’t.

“We’re leaving,” he says simply, gently tugging your hand.

Your husband looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn't. Not as Seonghwa leads you into the elevator, wraps you under his arm protectively, and hits the button.

The doors slide shut, and just like that, you’re gone.

The door shuts behind you both with a soft click, muffled by the sheer stillness of the apartment. It should feel safe, it usually does, but now the silence only makes your thoughts louder.

You step in a few paces, drop your bag on the floor, and turn around like you don't know where to go next.

“I messed everything up,” you say in a breath, voice shaky. “I didn’t even say a word, I just stood there,- God, his face, Seonghwa, he knows.”

Your fingers tremble at your sides. You can’t stand still. The panic keeps bubbling up, sharp and sudden, and you drag a hand through your hair like that would slow your racing mind.

Seonghwa says nothing at first. He simply watches you for a moment, letting you unravel, but stays close.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” you whisper. “We were careful. We-, he wasn’t even supposed to be there. What if-, what if he tells someone? What if it-”

He reaches for you before you can spiral further, large hands settling on your shoulders with calm, grounding weight. “Hey,” he says gently. “Look at me.”

You do. Barely. Your eyes are glossy, your chest rising and falling in quick bursts.

“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling you into him.

Your hands curl into the fabric of his coat without thinking. His warmth surrounds you, steady and quiet. His touch isn’t desperate, it’s reassuring. Calm.

“I know it’s a lot,” he says into your hair, rubbing a hand down your back. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. We didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?”

You say nothing, only shake your head into his chest.

“What if he doesn’t approve of this?” you whisper. “Of you. Of you being the one I’m seeing.”

His hand pauses for half a second, then resumes its slow strokes down your spine. “I don’t know.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull back enough to check the screen.

Husband: Can we please talk?

Seonghwa doesn’t ask questions when you read the text aloud to him, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I have to go,” you say, voice cracking slightly. “I need to talk to him.”

He nods once, the motion slow. Measured. “I know.”

You shift your weight, swallowing thickly. “I’m,-” The words tangle in your throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Seonghwa says gently. “This was always something you had to do.”

You step closer, eyes searching his face. “I hate that this is how it’s happening.”

“I know,” he says again, quieter this time. “But you’re not alone.”

He brushes your hair behind your ear with the softest touch, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. His thumb grazes your cheek like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you before he lets you go.

“Do you want me to take you?” he asks, voice low and warm.

You hesitate, then nod.

You want to tell him he’s done enough, that you shouldn’t drag him deeper into this, but you can’t. Because a part of you wants that last moment. Wants to feel him close before you walk back into the house you’ve been slowly drifting away from.

The ride is quiet, headlights casting golden stripes across your face as the city rolls by. You feel like your heart is caged behind your ribs, thrashing to get out.

Seonghwa’s hand rests near the gearshift, close enough to touch. And for a moment, it brushes yours. Not by accident. His pinky hooks lightly with yours, just enough to say I’m here.

You don’t speak the rest of the way. But somehow, you feel everything. When the house comes into view, your breath catches. The porch light is on. His car is in the driveway.

Seonghwa pulls up without a word, letting the engine hum quietly as you sit frozen in place.

“You want me to stay here?” he asks gently, breaking the silence.

You look at him, hesitating for a moment. “I think I’m okay.”

“Good” he says, offering you the faintest smile, soft and sad and full of love he won’t say out loud. “But if you need me, I’ll be back before you can even unlock your phone. Okay?”

Your throat tightens. You can only nod.

Then, without thinking, you lean across the console and press your lips to his. Brief, but full of every unspoken thing between you. It’s not goodbye. It can’t be. Not yet.

You pull back, and he’s still looking at you like you’re the only reason he knows how to breathe.

“Go,” he murmurs, voice tender. “Do what you have to do.”

You step out into the fading light, the front door looming ahead, your heart thudding with every step. As you reach the front door, you look back as Seonghwa one last time before entering your home. The home you’ve shared with your husband of 8 years. The door closes behind you and there he is.

Your husband is standing there. Hands in his pockets. Face unreadable.

But his eyes, his eyes were full of questions.

You stand in the hallway, your fingers still curled around the handle, your heart pounding so hard it almost drowns out the silence.

You don’t know what to expect. An argument, questions, maybe even cold indifference. But what you don’t expect is him suddenly kneeling to the ground, helpless, in the middle of the floor, shoulders slumped, hands clasped like he doesn’t even know how else to hold himself. It’s like he’s unraveling right there, like pride means nothing anymore.

You stare, stunned.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, more breath than sound. “For everything.”

Your throat tightens. You don’t know if it’s anger or sadness, or the crushing weight of what this moment might mean.

“I never should’ve asked for an open marriage,” he continues. “It was stupid. So fucking stupid. I-, I thought I wanted space. I thought maybe we could be happier that way, that I was giving us a better chance by letting things feel… open.”

His voice cracks. He lifts his gaze and it guts you.

“When I saw you with him today and I-” His breath shudders. “I didn’t know it would be him,”

He shifts forward slightly on his knees, reaching out like he wants to touch your hand but doesn’t dare.

“Please,” he whispers. “Let me try again. I’ll end things with her. I’ll be the husband I should’ve been. I’ll do anything. Just don’t walk away from me.”

And god, part of you wants to fall into his arms. He’s your husband. The man you’ve loved for 8 years. The one who now looks more broken than you’ve ever seen him.

But another part of you aches for what this means.

Because Seonghwa’s face flashes in your mind. His voice. His touch. The way he looks at you like you hung the stars, like he’s trying to memorize every second you give him because he knows you were never his to keep.

Your husband is still kneeling. Still waiting. Desperate. Tear-streaked.

You bite your lip so hard it hurts.

“I…” you begin, voice trembling. “I need time. Time to think”

A pause. Then a small nod from him, like he’s afraid to ask for anything more.

But in your chest, something stirs. Something terrifying.

Because no matter what you choose… someone’s heart is going to break.

And maybe it’ll be your own.

***

The house feels hollow. The evening's darkness is casting over your house like the feelings inside of you.

Your husband is still asleep on the couch. Or maybe he’s just pretending. You don’t ask.

You didn’t sleep. Not really. Just laid there in your bed, the one that used to be yours and his, but also once, without your permission, became hers too. The silence between you and him was unbearable. He offered the bedroom like it was a gesture of goodwill.

Your chest still feels tight as you stand in the hallway now, jacket in hand, shoes barely laced. You write a note. Nothing dramatic. Just I need some air. I’ll be back later.

You don’t know when “later” is. You just know where you need to be.

Seonghwa opens the door before you even knock. It’s like he knew.

You’re met with the smell of tea, the warmth of his apartment, and his eyes, dark with concern.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice like a balm. “You okay?”

You nod once.

Then your lip trembles.

And he knows.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he murmurs, stepping forward just as your breath hitches.

You try to stay composed. You really do. But then his arms are around you, pulling you into his chest, and the weight of everything presses down so hard it feels like your knees might give out.

You collapse into him, arms locked around his waist, fingers fisting into the back of his shirt. His hand cups the back of your head, the other smoothing down your spine.

“I-I tried to be strong,” you manage, voice thick. “I wanted to be okay, but he-, he was on his knees, Seonghwa. He begged me.”

You feel him tense slightly, but he says nothing. Just holds you tighter.

“He said he’d end things with her. That he made a mistake. That I’m still his wife and he wants me back and-” You pull back just enough to look at Seonghwa, eyes glassy, voice cracking. “And I wanted to feel good hearing it. I did. But all I could think about was you.”

Something flickers in his gaze. Hope, maybe. Pain too. But he doesn’t speak. He just listens.

You sniff, trying to hold yourself together. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair to you. I know I’m hurting you by not knowing what I want and I hate it-”

“Hey,” he cuts in gently, thumb brushing beneath your eye. “Stop. I told you, I don’t want anything from you that hurts you to give.”

“But you-”

“I want you,” he says simply. “In whatever way you can give me. Even if that means just this. Being here, telling me what you’re feeling.”

Your throat tightens again, but this time it’s not just from sadness. It’s because of how safe you feel with him. How seen. How loved, even if he’s never said the words. You press your forehead to his chest and he just sways you gently in his arms, fingers tracing slow patterns along your back.

“I’m so lost, Seonghwa.” you whisper.

He exhales against your hair. “Then stay here. Just for a little while.”

And god, you’re tired of choosing. Tired of being torn.

But as his hand slips into yours and he leads you to the couch, pulling a blanket over your legs, tucking you in close like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held, you know this much:

This man… this love… is real.

You don’t remember when the tears stopped. Or what time it is. Or how long you’ve been sitting here. The two of you sit curled into his couch like you’ve done so many times before. But this time, everything feels sharper. He’s cradling you with a kind of care that’s almost reverent, your legs stretched across his lap, your face tucked beneath his chin. You can hear his heart beneath your ear, slow and steady. He hasn’t moved since you sat down. He doesn't dare to.

His fingers are laced with yours, your thumb tracing a trembling path over the back of his hand. The blanket wrapped around your bodies makes it feel like the world outside has stopped. Like you're suspended in a fragile little moment where time can’t touch you. And yet... you know it will.

It’s you who speaks first. Your voice is hushed, barely more than breath. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Seonghwa sighs gently through his nose, resting his chin on top of your head.

“I know,” he says. Just two words. No judgment. No bitterness. Just a quiet truth, laced with understanding.

You shift slightly so you can see his face, and he’s already looking at you, those dark eyes as warm and soft as ever, even now. You can see it in them: how much he adores you. How much this is killing him.

But you also see something else. A kind of resolve. One that terrifies you.

He brings your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to your knuckles. Then another. Then he just lingers there, lips resting against your skin like he’s memorizing the shape of you. Like he knows this might be the last time.

And then, barely above a whisper, he says it.

“You should go back to him.”

The words slice through the quiet like ice water, and you freeze.

“What?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes at first. He’s staring down at your joined hands like it’s the only way he’ll get through this.

“You’re married.” he says slowly. “And he’s... trying. Maybe it’s too late, maybe it’s not. And I see you struggling to choose. I see it all over you.“

You swallow thickly, your chest cracking open.

His hand tightens just slightly around yours. “I don’t want you to look back one day and wonder if you made the wrong choice. If you left too soon. If I was just an escape.” 

Your hearts drops.

“So let me make it for you,” he whispers, finally meeting your eyes. “Let me be the one who walks away. Let me be the bad guy, if that’s what it takes. Because I’d rather be the one who lets go than make you carry the guilt of choosing.”

You pull your hand from his, suddenly feeling cold. “Are you trying to push me away?”

“No.” His voice cracks, and it breaks everything inside you. “I’m trying to let you go before it hurts you more to stay.”

You hate how reasonable he sounds. You hate how selfless he is. You hate that he means it.

You shake your head, desperate. “Seonghwa, please-”

He smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that feels like the beginning of a goodbye.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he murmurs. “I wasn’t supposed to be more than a brief chapter in your life. And I was okay with that. I was. Because even if I couldn’t be forever, I still got you shortly. And I would do it all again, even knowing it would end.”

His voice cracks. But he keeps going.

Your throat burns. Your vision blurs.

“I let myself dream about it, you know,” he says softly, an empty laugh escaping his lips. “About what it would’ve been like if you met me first. If there wasn’t already a ring on your finger. But I know this isn’t about what I want. It never was.”

He brings your hand to his lips again, presses a trembling kiss to your fingers.

“So go back to him,” he murmurs. “You deserve a chance to fix what you had. To see if there’s still love waiting for you there. And if there is… don’t look back. Don’t wonder. Just go.”

You finally whisper, “But why-”

“Because I love you,” he says, cutting through everything.

It’s the first time he’s said it.

The first time you’ve heard it.

His voice wavers, just a little, but he doesn’t look away.

“I love you,” he says again, softer. “And I know I’m being incredibly selfish by saying that to you right now, because I don’t wanna make things harder for you. But I do. I didn't want to confuse you, or make you feel like you owed me anything. But I need you to know.”

His eyes shine, but he’s still holding it together. Just barely.

“I love you,” He leans his forehead gently against yours. “And I would give anything to be the one you stay with. But if I really love you… then I have to do what’s best for you. Even if it breaks me.”

Tears prick at your eyes, sharp and sudden. He gives you a faint smile, and it’s the saddest thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Why does this feel like punishment?” your voice cracks.

His eyes soften even more, somehow. “Because loving someone you can’t keep always does.” his thumb drags over your cheek, removing a tear from your eye.

And the silence that follows is unbearable. A crushing, yawning void between your heart and his. You want to scream. You want to run. You want to disappear into his arms and never have to come back to the reality that waits for you outside this room.

You want a world where you don’t have to choose.

But that world doesn’t exist.

Not for you.

Not for him.

“I don’t know if I can say goodbye to you,” you whisper, barely audible.

“Then don’t,” he murmurs. “Not yet.”

His hand lingers on your cheek like it’s memorizing every line. Every softness. Every trace of the life you almost had.

And then, without a word, because words don’t work anymore, you lean in.

And so does he.

Your lips meet in the quietest, saddest kiss of your life.

His lips move like he’s trying to tell you everything one last time. Like he’s writing all his unsaid I love yous into your skin. Like this moment has to hold every second he’ll never get.

You fall into him, legs curled up tighter, arms around his neck like a lifeline. His fingers thread into your hair as if he can anchor you there, just a little longer. Like maybe if he kisses you softly enough, sweetly enough, the universe will change its mind.

But the universe doesn’t.

And he knows it.

And when you finally pull back, just enough to look at him. He’s crying, quietly.

Still holding your face like you’re something precious.

Still loving you as you let him go.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he says, barely audible. “Even when you forget the sound of my voice. Even when he holds your hand. When he gets to fall asleep next to you. When your life goes on…”

Your breath shatters.

You’re sobbing now, silently. Your chest aches. Your whole body aches.

He presses the softest kiss to your cheek, your jaw, your forehead, like he’s saying goodbye to every part of you, one last time.

“I hope he knows,” Seonghwa whispers, voice broken. “I hope he knows he gets to keep the heart I would’ve spent my whole life protecting.”

He doesn’t say anything else.

He just lets you go.

Because he loves you too much to make you choose.

And that’s what real heartbreak sounds like.

Silence.

TAGLIST: I only have one main taglist, so if you wish to be added/removed, then let me know! xx

@lveegsoi @vixensss @yizhou-time @imgenieforyou-boy @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @ateezswonderland @cozypaint @blutiny @aerangi @arigakittyo @femaholicc @queenofdumbfuckery @mingiatz @hwaskookies @vent-stink @desanslogique @taestrwbrry @hannahstacos @tinyteezer @gold--gucciempress @zhangyi-johee @sunnysidesins @spenceatiny18 @yunhoswrldddd @beljakovina @soso59love-blog @trivia-134340 @skzfangirl143 @spicxbnny @h0rnyp0t @mingimangomu @no-nottoday @roguesthetic @hwas-star @tsuukamori @londonbridges01 @nayutalvr @purplelady85 @lover-ofallthingspretty @awkward-fucking-thing @luvbgy @thuyting @p1ecetinyzen @eumpappasmom @marsofeight @maidens-world @girlblogger-04 @renapersa @lol-imtrash2000 @melitadala @yoonglesbae @bby-boo4u @babymbbatinygirl @dalsuwaha @diekleinesuesse @beccaskz @les4heeseung @oddin4ry @manu2004 @mingimangomu @intowxnderland @chaotic-floral @toxicstrawberries @musicconversedance @insanityz @therealcuppicake @darkdayelixer @soobieboobiebaby @thevintagefangirl

[purinfelix]

texts with bsf! ni-ki ✶⋆.˚ || pt. 2!

───────── best friend niki x reader || fluff, crack, wholesome, kinda suggestive (they're getting more bold with each other!!), mentions of drinking and alcohol || stuff actually happens in this one !!!! [ ⌗ read part 1 here !! ]

a/n: THE PART TWO IS HEREEEE ngl im usually sooooo dang bad with part2s for my fics so its kind of a miracle that y'all are getting this let alone so quickly as well but .... what can i say i love niki and this dynamic and texts are so fun (and much easier) to make !!! hope u all enjoy ~~~ i tried to make this one more eventful lol

taglist for niki fics! <333 - @miniw0nz @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @charsworld96 @jenjnk @nocturnebite @nodoubtily @teireiii @starniras

[niwaart]

DIFFERENT WORLD, DIFFERENT FAMILY

(Part1)... (part2)...

Tim felt… weird.

It wasn’t the usual kind of weird, like finding a new case file that didn’t add up or stumbling upon Damian’s latest sketchbook filled with disturbingly accurate battle wounds. No, this was different. This was Y/N.

Ever since she had appeared in their world, claiming to be Bruce’s wife from another reality, she had been hovering. Not in an intrusive way, but in a way that made Tim’s skin prickle with unease. She asked him questions, too many questions.

"Did you eat?"

"Are you sleeping enough?"

"You look tired, should I make you tea?"

And the worst part? She waited for him.

Tim wasn’t used to that.

In the Manor, Alfred was the one who took care of them, bandaged their wounds, and made sure they didn’t starve during late-night patrols. But Alfred’s care was routine, expected. Y/N’s attention was… personal.

Tonight was no different.

Tim had just dragged himself back from a grueling stakeout, his muscles aching, his mind buzzing with caffeine and exhaustion. The clock read 3:17 AM. The Manor was silent, save for the faint hum of the grandfather clock in the hall.

And yet—

"You’re back."

Tim nearly jumped out of his skin.

Y/N stood by the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp despite the late hour. A steaming bowl of soup sat on the counter beside her, the scent of ginger and herbs filling the air.

Tim blinked. "You... you waited up?"

She shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You weren’t home. Of course, I did."

Something twisted in Tim’s chest.

He wasn’t used to this.

Damian Wayne was many things, observant, calculating, and very aware of when something was off.

And Y/N’s behavior? Definitely off.

She treated Tim like… like he was fragile. Like he might break if she didn’t watch him closely. It made Damian’s teeth grind.

At breakfast, she slid extra pancakes onto Tim’s plate.

When Tim yawned, she immediately asked if he needed rest.

And the way she looked at him—like she was seeing someone else.

Someone is gone.

Damian didn’t like it.

So he confronted her.

"You favor Drake."

Y/N paused mid-step in the hallway, turning to face Damian. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable.

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Damian snapped. "You hover over him like he’s made of glass. You barely pay attention to me or Father... yet you act like Drake is the one who needs protecting."

Y/N’s expression flickered, something dark and wounded flashing in her eyes.

Damian didn’t miss it.

"...He died in my world," she said softly.

Damian stilled.

"The Joker killed him. And when he came back… he wasn’t the same." Her voice cracked. "So yes. I do hover. Because the thought of losing him again any version of him makes me sick."

Damian didn’t know what to say.

Bruce had been watching.

He had seen the way Y/N moved through the Manor—like she belonged there. The way she rearranged the paintings, the way she instinctively knew where everything was.

And the way she looked at Tim.

Now, standing in the Batcave, he finally asked the question burning in his mind.

"In your world… how did Tim die?"

Y/N’s hands clenched.

"The Joker..."

Bruce’s blood ran cold.

"And when he came back…?"

She looked away. "He came back wrong. Full of rage. Full of pain."

Bruce exhaled slowly.

No wonder she watched Tim like a ghost.

Tim found her in the library later that night.

Y/N was curled up in an armchair, an old photo album in her lap, photos taken by Alfred of the family. She was smiling with every picture.

He hesitated before sitting beside her.

"...You don’t have to worry about me, you know," he said quietly. Bruce told him about Tim in her world and what happened to him... like what happened to Jason.

Y/N smiled sadly. "I know."

A beat of silence.

"...But I’m going to anyway."

Tim didn’t argue.

For the first time in a long time… it didn’t feel so bad to be cared for.

#############################

Dick Grayson had heard rumors.

Not from Bruce... no, Bruce had been characteristically tight-lipped. Not from Alfred, who had only cryptically said, "The Manor has an unexpected guest." Not even from Tim, who had been weirdly evasive in his texts.

No, Dick had heard it from Damian.

And Damian never lied.

"Father’s wife is here. From another world."

Dick had nearly dropped his phone.

The clock struck 2:47 AM when Dick slipped through the Manor’s front door. He hadn’t announced his arrival, partly because he wanted to see this "otherworldly wife" for himself before jumping to conclusions, and partly because he really didn’t want to deal with Bruce’s inevitable interrogation.

The Manor was quiet. Too quiet.

No Damian lurking in the shadows. No Tim typing furiously in the study. No Alfred offering tea.

Just… silence.

And then—

"You’re not a burglar."

Dick spun around, escrima sticks already in hand, only to freeze.

A woman stood at the top of the staircase, arms crossed, watching him with an expression that was equal parts amusement.

She looked… not like what he expected, He expected someone who looked like one of the rich ladies in Gotham. Full of accessories and gold, shining from every angle... but that didn’t happen.

that made his chest ache with something he couldn’t name.

Motherly.

Dick lowered his weapons. "Uh. Hi?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You must be Dick."

His stomach flipped.

She knew his name.

Five minutes later, Dick found himself sitting at the kitchen island, a mug of hot chocolate pushed into his hands.

He stared at it.

"...Alfred never makes hot chocolate."

Y/N smirked. "That’s because Alfred doesn’t know it’s your favorite."

Dick’s fingers tightened around the mug.

How did she—

"You’re from another world," he said slowly, testing the words.

She nodded. "One where I’m married to Bruce. Where Damian is twenty-two, eldest son."

Dick’s breath caught.

"And… me?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s expression softened. "You’re twelve."

Dick choked on his drink. "Twelve?!"

She laughed... a warm, bright sound that filled the empty kitchen. "Yes. And you’re adorable. Always trying to prank me, always getting caught."

Dick didn’t know whether to be offended or touched.

Y/N studied him for a long moment before sighing.

"You’re taller here," she murmured. "Older. More tired."

Dick stiffened.

She reached out, hesitated, then gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.

"But you still have the same eyes."

Dick’s throat tightened.

He hadn’t had a mother in years.

A shadow appeared in the doorway.

Bruce.

Of course, he’d wake up.

Dick tensed, waiting for the inevitable "What are you doing here, Dick?" or "You should have called."

But Bruce just… looked at Y/N.

And Y/N looked back.

Something unspoken passed between them, something that made Dick feel like he was intruding on a moment he wasn’t meant to see.

Then Bruce sighed.

"...You made him hot chocolate."

Y/N smirked. "He looked like he needed it."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dick, we’ll talk in the morning."

Dick grinned. "Sure thing, Dad."

Bruce’s eye twitched.

Y/N laughed.

@el-hrts @alishii @cuntiesweet @hjgdhghoe @sirenetheblogger @simpforlanzhan @anonymoustext

[lemonabouttodrop]

How Could You?

Azriel x Reader fic

Summary: Azriel’s sharp words cut deeper than either of them expected, leaving a silence heavy with unspoken feelings. You walk away, heart aching, while Azriel is left alone with regret he won’t yet let himself address.

Warnings: Angst. Hurt no comfort (for now?). No use of y/n.

Note: As you'll probably realize after reading this, yes indeed, this is my first fic ever. I've been reading- fangirling over- the scarily talented writers on here and just thought to give it a try. So, by all means, lemme know if i should stop trying.😭

[part2] linked here.

He didn't realize what he'd said until it was too late. Until they stood there in utter silence. Until you walked away. Until his very being was telling him to go after you and his shadows had moved to the corners of the room as if disgusted by him.

He hadn't meant it, of course he hadn't meant it. But he'd said it anyways and so he sat, in the kitchen of the House of Wind, with his head in his hands as his mind replayed the moment your face fell. The moment you registered his poisoned words.

It had been a stupid fight to begin with, he realized. You'd ignored his orders of simple observation and instead jumped into battle. Typical. You'd gotten the job done, sure. Yet he couldn't help but panic at the thought of your identity being revealed. You didn't even live in the House of Wind for him to keep an eye on you and your safety. And so, one mistake could cost you your life.

And that scared him more than he'd ever admit.

Yet, for him to shout like that? He'd practically cornered you the minute you'd winnowed back, still battered and bruised from the fight. And he couldn't fathom why he'd lost control like so.

Or that is what he told himself at least.

But he'd been pissed and scared.

Now he'd probably messed up the one good thing in his life.

The one joy.

It had been 3 days 2 nights 7 hours and 18 minutes since you'd talked to him.

It had been 1 days and around 8 hours, still counting, since you'd even looked at him.

He. was. losing. his. goddamn. mind.

His shadows seemed to be just as revolted by his words as him. They reached out to you constantly, even if you were no where near him.

That was the problem. You didn't want to be around him at all.

Every single time he tried to talk to you, tried to get you to even look at him. You managed to find ways to avoid him.

You weren't even trying to hide that anymore. Everybody knew something was up but nobody dared question what happened considering how Azriel looked like he'd smite the first person who talked to him.

He was distracted constantly these days. He used to always schedule a few hours of doing nothing so that he could talk to you, train you, have lunch with you, go shopping. Whatever your heart desired.

Now? Now he'd spend those hours training, to get you off his mind and yet, thoughts of you plagued his every waking moment.

He must've thought of a hundred different scenarios of how he would apologize to you. Hundreds of scenarios, most of which ended with him begging and pleading yet none seemed enough. None seemed worthy of the hurt he'd caused.

Nothing seemed worthy of you.

You were his spy, of course he'd taught you well. And now you were using his own teachings against him it seemed. You were anywhere he wasn't, and though it hurt you to blatantly avoid him so, it hurt more to know what Azriel really thought of you.

To know that the worst things you thought of yourself were exactly what he thought too.

To know that when he would take care of you after missions, he was probably just coddling you.

And when he would listen to you as you opened up to him, under the stars, in the darkest hours of the night, all he might have been doing was taking pity on you.

To know that you might just have been another project to him. Another thing to fix.

To know that the one person who truly fully knew you, also saw the ugliest parts of you and also considered them as weaknesses.

And so you did the one thing you knew to do best, you hid and you shut down.

You weren't a very quiet person but every time you would come to the House of Wind, which wasn't very often now, the reminder of his words seem to just pull your tongue out, tie it into a tight knot and shove it somewhere deep in your heart.

Because although you were a spy of the Night Court, fierce and unyielding. Though you held up your centuries old carefully crafted facade of the strong fearless faerie, he'd seen through it all and it scared you how much his words seemed to affect you.

How close to heartbreak this felt.

part 2 linked here aswell.

[aliciastarkeyy]

Fools gold

Summary ᯓ★ uncool, typically ‘nerdy’ and unseen by most, your life on the island is pretty simple. Until Rafe Cameron begins to pay attention to you.

Warnings ᯓ★ swearing, the motions of a ‘bet’ being made, wagers, fake love, one sided love, fighting, eventual smut. ! not proofread !

Authors note ᯓ★ title is inspired by ‘Fools Gold’, specifically the version by Niall Horan ♡ this will be a series, hopefully! I don’t want to cram everything into one part ✮⋆˙

Word count ᯓ★ 4,867

part2⟡ part3⟡ part4⟡

Ruth’s bookshop goes unnoticed by many who pass on the boardwalk of figure eight. The quiet, quaint little shop filled to the brim with all different genres, so much so that some are piled on the floor- is a beautiful place to work.

You love it. There’s plants in any places that they would fit, soft Melodic music fluttering around.

And the smell. Gods, you loved the smell. This place is your version of heaven, and the fact that you get paid to organise the books, read them, and serve the occasional customer as they come and go is amazing.

Willow, the bookshop cat, a tiny tabby, is also an extra. She makes for great company when it stretches hours between customers, or when Ruth isn’t in the shop- which admittedly, isn’t often anymore. She leaves you alone to run the shop most of the time, off spending time with her family.

You don’t mind spending most of your time here. After college, a gruelling four years studying literature in California, you welcomed the salty sea air of Outer Banks with open arms. A break, you’d called it.

But since you’d started working in the bookshop, the break had become a little more… permanent. To the displeasure of your parents of course.

‘You can’t work in a bookshop for the rest of your life,” or ‘I spent all my money on your degree and this is what you do with it?’

Your parents weren’t exactly the best, or the most supportive. Years upon years of them barely paying attention to you, shoving you into the arms of a nanny and trying to buy you off with expensive things, college tuition included, did them no favours.

Maybe this was you rebelling. A big ‘fuck you’ to your mom and dad, for feeling like you only existed to them when it was beneficial. Here’s what I’m going to do with my degree: nothing.

Today is an exceptionally slow day, aircon on full blast as willow rolls around on the counter looking for love. You’re nose deep in a book about nature cycles, patting the cat every so often as she rolls her head to the side for your scratches.

You reckon you’ve had around five customers, and the slowness on days like this sometimes makes you wonder how Ruth keeps the shop going. It serves as a gentle reminder that she’s rich, just like your own parents, when she stops by the shop sometimes, adorned in expensive clothing and accessories.

Sometimes you wish she were your mother. She’s always super nice to you, acting in ways your own mother couldn’t.

The bell above the door chimes as it opens and you perk up, eyes over the edge of the book. Willow hips off the counter to see what’s happening, rubbing up against some of the shelves. You see nothing but a tall mess of brown locks disappear behind one of the shelves, and you let your eyes fall back to your book.

If they need you, they’ll ask. The book you’re reading is getting particularly interesting, anyway. You can hear the slight patter of willows feet following whoever is in the store, and they’re getting closer to the counter.

“S’cuse me,” A voice interrupts your reading. It sounds oddly familiar, and you bookmark your page before placing your own book on the counter. A smile traces your lips at the sight of the books placed on the counter.

As long as the lemon trees grow and The Nightingale. Two utterly moving books, ones that had made you cry. A little.

A glance up at their purchaser has you doing a slight double take internally. The guy stood in front of you- of whom you knew you recognised, briefly, now you think about it, is Rafe Cameron.

He was in your year in school for most of the high school life until he suddenly just stopped turning up. And as you look at him now, he looks exactly as you remember. Floppy curtain bangs, piercing blue eyes that you’re sure you’d caught across the canteen a few times- kakis and a polo with a fleece.

Same guy. He grins lopsidedly, head slightly tilting to the left. “Done observing me? Can I pay for my books?”

Your cheeks nod and you grasp for the books, turning them over and fumbling with the scanner. You sure as hell weren’t one to judge but these did not seem like his type of book.

To be honest, he looked like he’d never read a book in his entire life. The memories of being sat in the library and listening to countless tutors trying to teach him simple scholarly lessons flashes for a second as you scan the second book, and you conclude. These are not Rafe Cameron books.

“Your total is fifteen dollars today,” you reply, letting the sentence linger in the air as he searches for his wallet. He picks a twenty dollar bill out, crisp as the day it was printed, and places it on the counter.

“Keep the change,” you nod and push the twenty into the cash register, watching as he picks up his books and begins to walk away. Just like that. One of your weirder experiences with a former class mate, but you’d take the short interaction over a stupendously awkward one anyday.

“Have a nice day,” you call out as he reaches the door, and he hesitates. Your fingers furl around the hard cover of your book as he turns and you immediately regret saying anything. Fuck customer service.

“Yeah, I think I will.” The door bell chimes as he steps out into the heat of the boardwalk, and you’re confused as ever. Certainly an interaction at least.

Ruth messages you at about three o’clock asking how many customers you’ve had. When you respond with six, she tells you close up shop and go and enjoy your day.

How ironic, considering the rest of your day that you’d planned consisted of going home and curling up in bed for a nice nap. You wrap up closing, leaving the till draw in the safe and locking the back room. Willow meanders by the front door, knowing exactly what time it is.

Usually, she’ll follow you all the way home, almost like she’s making sure you get home safe, before wandering off to presumably join her friends. When you open up on a morning she’s sat on the front step of the shop, waiting to be let in and fed.

She meows at you as you do your final once over of the shop, before joining her at the door and crouching down to her.

A scratching behind her ears makes her purr. “You’re excited to go see your friends, huh?” Her eyes glint as if agreeing and you laugh to yourself, standing straight and opening the door. Willow filters out onto the path. You flip the open sign around to say closed and grasp your keys, shutting the door and locking it.

An exasperated sigh leaves someone behind you. You turn, pulling the key out of the lock.

Rafe Cameron. He’s got that cheesy grin on his face again, books held under one arm as the other is reaching back, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Closing?” He asks, as if it isn’t the most obvious thing in the world. You quirk an eyebrow, jingling the keys in your hand.

“Yeah. You’ll have to come back tomorrow. Returning them already?” You query, causing him to laugh, breathily.

“Uhhhh, no actually, I just forgot one,” his arm falls to his side, waiting. Like you’ll open the store for him again just for one book.

“What, those two very complex and thick books won’t still you over until tomorrow?” The annunciation on the words makes him flinch, despite his best efforts to not show so. You see.

“Okay, okay, no need. They’re actually not for me, they’re for my sister,” he tuts, looking to the side, down the board walk. “You know, it doesn’t matter, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

He turns. Slowly. Like he’s waiting.

“Okay! Bye,” willow meows as you begin to walk in the opposite direction towards your house, and you hear him stutter.

“What? You’ll won’t even open back up for one book?” He sounds incredulous. It makes you giggle, dropping the shop keys into your bag. You glance over your shoulder, to see him a few feet from you, obviously having moved.

“No. It’s not worth the effort of reopening everything. You can come back tomorrow.” Your hands reach up to readjust your toe bag strap on your shoulder, setting a slow pace down the board walk with willow. She pads inbetween your legs, purring and rubbing up against each leg.

Your house is empty when you arrive home. No surprise there. The high ceilings and white marble of the front foyer mimic something of a liminal space, to you at least. There’s pictures on the wall, the few that your parents had taken with you and of you to make the place feel more homey.

It was far from. Since you grew out of the age of needing a nanny, it was mostly just you in the house. The occasional times your parents would be home, they’d be in their bedroom sleeping, or in their offices working.

There was no family here. Your room, in your opinion, was the only room of the house to have any life, any character. Most of the walls were lined with bookshelves, of course, and your messy bed that you hadn’t made this morning sat in the center of the room. There’s two big bay windows right across from the bed, overlooking the beach and ocean that had convinced your parents to buy the house in the first place. It’s a mixture of greens, all walls and carpets and beddings- the only colour in the house.

It was your space. You drop your bag into your desk chair, huffing a strand of hair out of your face as you loosen it from the claw clip you’d had it in all day. Sinking into your bed, it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

The days evens play back in your mind as you drift off.

Your phone rings again and despite your best efforts to silence it, the noise does not cease. A groan falls from your lips as you lift your head from the pillow, hands grasping around the edges of your phone, eyes squinting to adjust to the brightness of the screen.

Maysilee.

She’s ringing, for what feels like the fiftieth time, and you roll your eyes before swiping to answer and bringing your phone to your ear.

“Hiiiiii! What’re you doing right now?” Her sweet, high pitched voice trails through the phone and you pull it away from your ear for a second, before bringing it back.

“I was asleep,” her tut is immediate. Despite being your best friend, the two of you could not be anymore different. She liked parties and shopping and looking like she belonged in money all the time and you liked books, sleeping and pretending you didn’t exist to the world.

“Why sleep when you can come to my house for this get together?”

“Maysi, no. You know I don’t like stuff like that.” A tut again.

“Cmon, you never come! It’s only a few people I promise.” You can hear her manicured nails tapping against a glassy surface of some sort, and that she’s in one of those moods where she won’t take no for an answer.

If you did say no, she’d turn up at your house. That’s just the type of person she is.

“May…”

“Look, no ifs or buts. You don’t even have to drink. Just come and hang out with me.”

You weigh out your options. If you say no, you’re going. If you say yes, you’re going. It’s a lose- lose on your end no matter what.

Reluctantly, you sit up in bed, checking the time on your phone before bringing it back to your ear. “Okay, sure. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

The squeal she makes is enough to shatter glass. “Finally! See you soon babe, love you.” She hangs up almost immediately, giving you no time to change your mind.

Half an hour from now would be seven. Clambering out of bed in the same clothes you fell asleep in, you trudge over to your closet. You weren’t exactly the type to be flashy with your clothes. Or revealing. The most you’d wear is a skirt, but even then it’s a decent length and you have tights on.

You opt for a brown sweater and black skirt, knowing if you turn up in anything else Maysi will be directing your straight to her own closet and forcing you to change.

Once you’re changed, you re clip your hair up and out of your face before slipping into your shoes that you usually wear, a pair of Mary Jane’s. It’s now fifteen minutes until you said you’d show up, and you debate changing your mind and just not going at all.

Maysi would kill you. Like she knows you all too well, a text from her pings on your phone reminding you to turn up or else. A threat. A promise of threatening actions.

Maysilee is not someone to fuck with. The air is slightly colder when you step out of your front door, a breeze sweeping through the trees and bushes that adorn your front garden.

You’re suddenly thankful that Maysi lives a few houses down. When you arrive, there’s a few more cars outside than you expected and a ‘few’ people lingering out on the front garden.

A little get together. You should have known.

Maysi’s house is warm. In the sense that she has lots and lots of family memories around, and the house looks like it’s lived in. It makes you envious. Maysi greets you in the foyer, pulling you through her house to the kitchen, the island in the middle simply stacked to the brim with different types of alcohol.

“Now, I know you said no drinks, but how about one?” She grins at you and beckons towards the extensive array of drinks.

“Maysi, no. I’ll just have some lemonade or something.”

“Boo. You’re boring. You’re lucky I love you though.” She boops your nose with one manicured nail, arm wrapping around your shoulder as she leads you to the soft drinks section of the island.

One lemonade later and an abandonment by Maysilee, you find yourself out in the back garden. There’s a lot less people out here than in the front garden and the house itself, the conversation quiet and mulling along the same level as the best of the music in the house.

You know this garden like the back of your hand, Maysi’s mum loving her garden like a child. It’s full of flowers, and ornaments, and you know there’s a secret little seating area hidden behind the gazebo that you can’t see thanks to the wall of trees.

It makes a perfect place to hide out until it’s an acceptable time to go home.

“I’m telling you man, she’s gonna go right for it. He’s got this irresistible charm with women,” a male voice, slightly chopped through the trees. The guy is stood in the gazebo, and you can see the top of another head stood close by.

It feels wrong to eavesdrop, but you’re not really, if you think about it. They’re having a conversation in a public space and you just so happen to be nearby. And interested.

“Nah man, I don’t think so. From what he’s told me about today, she’s got some wit about her. I don’t reckon she’ll fall so fast.” The other guy responds. You wonder what, or who, they’re talking about.

“You reckon? Well, we know what I’ve bet on,” poor girl. Whoever these guys were, and the mystery third guy who seemed to be playing with some poor girls feelings- you felt bad.

Another third voice calls the two guys away from the gazebo and you wrinkle your nose as they begin yelling, quietening as they further away from the gazebo.

The stars are out tonight. It’s easy to see them here when there’s no light pollution, and they’re beautiful. Having lots of time to read books means you’re quite clued in on a lot of things, and constellations are no exception.

“Pretty cool aren’t they?” You recognise the voice. Rafe stands at the edge of the little seating area, looking upwards too. He’s dressed in jeans and a simple brown shirt, hair seemingly groomed into neat side bangs instead of the unruly ones you’d seen him in earlier.

You take a sip of your lemonade. “They’re not so bad, I suppose.”

Rafe smiles, hands finding home in his front pockets. “Say, do you know any names of those… star configurations?”

You splutter on your lemonade. “Star configurations?”

“Yeah, can’t remember the word.” He quips, moving to one of the seats near your own.

“Constellations, That’s what they’re called.”

“Yeah right. That word. Do you know any?” He grins, pulling a bottle of beer from seemingly thin air.

You point upwards, at a set of stars that look slightly like a sand timer. “That one that looks like a sand timer is Orion. Named after the hunter from Greek mythology.” Rafe leans towards your side slightly, looking for the area you’re pointing towards. A small ‘ohhh’ escapes his lips when he notices it.

“Cassiopeia is that weird ‘W’ looking one. Named after the mother of Andromeda.” You point towards another.

Rafe nods. “Guess you’ve got a lot of free time in that book shop huh?”

You blush, a little. You’re thankful for the guise of nighttime to hide the fact that you’re blushing to begin with.

“Yeah, I guess.”

He takes a swig from his bottle, slightly turning towards you. You notice how much closer he’s really got, and shuffle back on your seat.

“So what’re you doing here? Doesn’t really seem like your kind of place,” you scoff. If only. Why else would you be sat outside on your own?

“It’s not. Maysilee forced me to come.”

“Ah. Makes sense, she’s a.. character, that one.”

A snort slips from you and you cover your mouth of sheer embarrassment. Rafe chuckles, one hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

“You’re half telling me, she’s my best friend. I get that twenty four seven.”

“My condolences.” Rafe expresses, holding a hand over his heart. It makes you giggle, hiding it behind a sip of your lemonade.

“Thanks Rafe, but don’t you have better places to be?”

“No better place than the present.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure those books aren’t for you?”

Rafe raises his hands like he’s been caught. “Got me. Just trying to impress the pretty lady at the bookshop.”

Your heart stutters. Stops, if you must. Your cheeks heat again, and you’re sure if you couldn’t feel the thrum of your pulse in your neck you’d be dead.

You don’t know what to say.

The awkwardness of the situation has you pulling at the cuffs of your jumper, lemonade cup long forgotten on the seat next to you. Like he can sense your discomfort, Rafe backtracks.

“Sorry, sorry. Too forward. I won’t take it back though, cos’ it’s true.” He stands from the seat, chugging the rest of his beer. From where he’s stood now, you can see the glint in his eyes.

Like there’s something else there. The same glint you used to see when you’d catch his eye in high school. When he was doing something he shouldn’t be.

“See you tomorrow, bookshop.” The pet name grates the back of your throat. You’re stuck the suspended silence of the downhill run of the end of the conversation even when you reach your own home, and your room.

Sleep does not come so easy tonight.

Authors note pt2 ᯓ★ phew ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ really enjoyed writing this, did it in one sitting. Hoping to churn this series out I have so much planned pls let me know what you think/ if you like mwah ꩜⋆