#I SEARCHED for perfume notes to help me with this

[bansheeheart]

+1 What does Rook smell like?

FOR YOUR ROOKS OTHER THAN VITA. whoops!

Enasalin smells like parchment paper, cedar, and amber

Odalis smells like leather, whiskey, and oud

Narcissa smells like orchid, tonka bean, and myrrh

Aeron smells like blood, nagarmotha, and tobacco

Naenia smells like patchouli, cardamom, and benzoin

[wheeboo]

for a moment, forever | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which while shopping for wedding dresses for your best friend, you can't help but want to try one on too. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. jihyo from twice as reader's engaged best friend) GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mild cursing, terms of endearment, reader wears a wedding dress, cheol doesn't show up until like halfway into the fic HAHAH WORD COUNT. 2.2k

notes: this is lowkey me describing my dream dress if i do somehow get married lmao so also self indulgent too ig, and it was fun searching up dresses! this also reminds me of that one scene from extraordinary attorney woo. if u know u know :') happy belated bday cheol <3

[02:39PM | y/n] should be done with jihyo's appointment in a few hours!! you can pick me up then bub❤️

[2:41PM | cheol 💕] Sounds good, my love. I'll see you then 😊

"Wait, oh my God, that one is beautiful!"

"Right?!" Jihyo exclaims eagerly before swiping to the next photo in her camera roll, on it displayed a gorgeous mermaid wedding dress that she had saved from Pinterest. "Okay, not sure if I like the mermaid ones but this was one was too pretty to not be saved."

"You can always ask to try one on too. I still think you'd rock whichever one you put on," You tell her, lacing an arm around hers as the two of you approach the bridal boutique that was just around the corner. "I still can't believe you're getting married."

When you and Jihyo exchange knowing glances with each other, squeals of excitement escape both of you. It feels surreal, almost like a dream knowing that your best friend is about to walk down the aisle and take her first steps into married life. Just ahead of the two of you, the bridal boutique gleams with soft lights and elegantly displayed gowns in the windows.

As you both step inside, the cozy warmth of the boutique wraps around you, and a subtle, lingering floral scent and delicate perfume fills the air. The interior is enchanting yet inviting, with a variety of dresses arranged by style. The boutique's consultant greets you both with a welcoming smile, and after a brief chat and a rundown of the different options, she leads you to a private area where Jihyo can begin her fitting.

You follow Jihyo as she naturally gravitates towards the gowns on display. You can tell she's already picturing herself in each dress. It's a bit overwhelming being surrounded by so many intricately designed dresses, like you've walked straight into a world of fairytale. Lace, satin, tulle𑁋every fabric imaginable seems to be represented here.

While helping Jihyo pick out some dresses, you can't lie that some have caught your eye more than you can admit. Knowing that one day these dresses will be worn by someone on of the most important days of your life fills you with awe. The thought makes your heart full, and briefly, you can't but help but imagine yourself walking down the aisle one day.

For a moment, your mind flickers to the thought of Seungcheol, and your heart does a jump.

One particular white tulle, floral embroidered dress with off-shoulder sleeves catches your attention. It's a perfect blend of elegance and romance. You let your hand run over the delicate embroidery, marvelling with admiration at the elaborate details caressed over every inch of it. The floral patterns are so finely crafted that they seem to bloom like real flowers right out of the fabric.

"Y/N, you need to try that on right now!"

You turn swiftly at the sound of Jihyo's commanding voice. "What? No, I can't𑁋"

"Come on, please!" Jihyo urges insistently while holding just about a dozen dresses in her hands. "It's so beautiful!"

"But this is for your special day, not𑁋"

"Honey, you and Seungcheol have been together for so long now, and sooner or later, you're going to have your special day too. Just try it on for fun, and I’d love to see how it looks on you!"

Okay, she really didn't have to bring up Seungcheol like that, but now you can't get it out of your head. An odd, fluttery feeling bursts in your stomach on top of the embarrassment crawling up your neck.

"Fine," You relent with a playful look. "But I'll do it after you try on all your dresses. Once again, today is for you, missy."

A wide grin spreads across her face as she shuffles towards the fitting room. "It's a deal!"

The next hour or so you spend lounging on the couch as Jihyo tries on dress after dress. Each one seems to bring out a different side of her: from elegant to dramatic, playful to sophisticated. You can’t help but laugh and cheer her on, snapping pictures and videos to capture every moment. You also help with various aspects of the fittings, from adjusting straps to even adding the veil on her head.

"You look like a princess!" You exclaim, clapping your hands as she twirls in a voluminous ball gown in front of the mirror.

"I feel like one!" Jihyo giggles, even doing a dramatic hair flip to add for an endearing touch.

The last one that she tries on is a mermaid dress with stunning lace detailing and a long, flowing train that spreads across the floor like ocean waves. As she steps out of the fitting room, the dress hugs her curves perfectly, and she looks every bit of a confident, radiant bride shining in her own element.

"Girl," You gasp out, voice full of awe. "that dress was made for you. You look absolutely stunning!"

Jihyo gazes at herself in the mirror. "Really?"

"Yes!" You claim, and you almost want to cry thinking about your best friend walking down the aisle. "I can so picture you walking down the aisle in this, holy shit."

Jihyo chuckles bashfully at your reaction.

"I'm going to be a bride," she says aloud, somewhat to herself and in a way announcing to the world too, before turning to you with a gleeful expression. "I'm going to be a bride!"

[04:45PM | cheol 💕] Are you done, sweetheart? I got to leave work earlier and just arrived at the place. Might come in since it's boiling outside 😅

"I really don't know about this𑁋"

"Come on, just try it on!" Jihyo nudges you ever so slightly to the fitting room, the dress trembling in your grasp. "This will be us doing some early preparations for your wedding, 'kay?"

Reluctantly, you find yourself stepping into the fitting room, the dress in your hands feeling both light and heavy at the same time. Taking a long, deep breath, you start to change into the dress as the consultant comes to your side to assist.

At first, the fabric feels odd against your skin, the delicate embroidery and soft tulle brushing against your shoulders as you put on the dress. The off-shoulder sleeves fit surprisingly snug when you slip them through your arms. The floral patterns seem to come alive right before your eyes, just like they had when you first saw the dress.

You take the first glance of yourself in the mirror in the fitting room, and it's almost as if you've been kicked in the gut and all the words had left you.

"Wow," You whisper to yourself, doing a small spin to see how the dress looks, and it feels absolutely magical to be the one wearing this dress right now.

Scrambling slightly, you look around your scattered belongings on the floor for your phone, knowing that you just have to capture this very moment before you would have to take the dress off.

But you can't find your phone anywhere.

"Crap, where did I put it?" You mumble annoyedly, having to move your dress around to get a better look, yet you still don't see it. Did you leave it outside? "Hey, Jihyo! If you're out there, can you pass me my phone?"

No response.

"Jihyo?"

Still no response.

Deflating your shoulders, you decide you might as well step outside to retrieve it.

"I didn't think the dress would fit this good. It's a bit heavier than I thought but I think I could manage𑁋"

And then you freeze, almost as if you were caught red-handed committing some sort of heinous crime, because Seungcheol is standing not that far away from you, eyes wide with disbelief and mouth dropped down to the floor at the sight of you wearing the wedding dress.

For a few moments, it's like the world stops as well, and you start to feel a little self-conscious under his gaze.

"Cheol? What are you..." Then you look down at yourself and the dress you were wearing. "You're here earlier than I-I thought, I should go change𑁋"

Seungcheol blinks back to reality from your words. "Wait, no, don't move, please."

He keeps his eyes locked on you, his gaze moving from your face, to the way the dress hugs and accentuates your figure in all the right ways, then back up again. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. You can't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stand there, awkwardly holding the hem of the dress in your sweaty hands.

You can hear your heart pounding in your chest. This is not how you imagined seeing Seungcheol after Jihyo's appointment. You were expecting a casual, friendly greeting, maybe a quick kiss, and then a drive home. But this... this is different. You've been with Seungcheol for years, but he's staring at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

"Wow, I..." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly before placing his hands in his pockets. "You're fucking breathtaking, honey."

Your cheeks burn brighter than ever, some sort of choked sound leaving you at his bluntness. You glance down at the dress, then back at Seungcheol.

"You... You think so?" You ask, voice timid and tainted with unsureness.

"Think so?" he repeats, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I know so. I can't take my eyes off you."

A rush of heat climbs up your neck as you avert your eyes away, pretending to adjust the hem of the dress, fingers clumsily tugging at the material. The dress suddenly feels suffocatingly hot and you don't know how much more you can take.

His eyes still don't leave you even when he steps closer, the features of his face softening into simply an adoring look.

You could feel your feet melting into the ground below. "Cheol, I should really go change𑁋"

"Not yet," he says firmly, and you stay put. "Just let me look at you for a little longer, please?"

That familiar, pleading tone to his voice makes your heart run laps in your chest and causes your knees to feel like jelly. He takes a few more steps towards you, and before you know, he's standing right in front of you, half-lidded eyes flickering between yours and your lips. He takes a hand out of his pocket and reaches out to gently cup your face, letting a finger trace slowly over your cheek, leaning in just close enough to whisper in your ear.

"I can't wait to marry you."

His words come out so quiet that you're barely able to hear it. And before you can respond, some loud, marching footsteps snaps you out of thought.

"Y/N! Look at this, I found the perfect veil for you!" When Jihyo sees you and Seungcheol, she stops short in her tracks, glancing at the sight of you in the dress and Seungcheol standing in front of you appearing as if he was just two seconds away from kissing you.

You clear your throat loudly, stepping away from Seungcheol and towards Jihyo.

"You found a veil for me?" You ask her.

"Yeah, put it on!" Jihyo hands you the dainty veil. "I went through hell trying to find a good one and I think this one works perfectly."

You feel Seungcheol's eyes on you as you carry the veil towards the mirror and carefully place it over your head. The light, airy fabric showers down around you, complementing the elegant gown. As you adjust the veil to your liking, you catch a glimpse of your reflection and can't help but smile. You see Seungcheol in the mirror as well, staring at you with an intense gaze of admiration.

And when you turn around, Seungcheol thinks you look more beautiful than what his imagination could possibly give him. He has to bite at his bottom lip in order to suppress some of the giddiness threatening to spread throughout his body, and the thought of seeing you again in a wedding dress makes him almost dizzy.

You're like an angel who has stepped foot into his world. The dress houses your wings and the veil is your halo. It's a perfect vision of the future he’s been dreaming about for so long it nearly makes him burst; a reality that he never thought he'd be seeing so soon.

He's going to marry you𑁋he knows he will. He knew that from that moment you first smiled at him back in your freshman year English class, all because you both simply made unexpected eye contact while you were introducing yourself. He knew it even more when he embarrassingly fell on his ass during a university soccer game and your laugh was the only sound that he could hear.

This is his first peek of forever with you, and he can't wait for it to all come true.

Seungcheol faintly hears you ask what he thinks about it, and only the heavens know how much he wants to answer by putting that ring stashed in the depths of his bedside drawer on your finger right then and there. But there's a time and place for everything. He has to make sure everything is perfect first.

So, yeah, he should really get to planning. And right now seems like a good start.

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[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 08 - Choking

pairing: sub!Natasha x dom!Reader

summary: Natasha wants to try something new.

content warnings: choking

word count: 1.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

“I want to try something new tonight,” Natasha says, her fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. You’re lying on the couch, the solid weight of her body resting half on top of you while a Disney movie plays in the background. 

You hum, tilting your face away from the screen and towards her. Her cheek is pressed against your shoulder, her soft breaths hitting your neck, and her dark green eyes nervously glancing up at you. 

Her blonde hair is soft underneath your fingertips, and you stroke her head gently while you wait for her breaths to become even again. You know how stressful it is for Natasha to ask for things, especially since she’s not used to making her own choices. 

“So you know how I like it when you’re a bit… rougher?” Her voice is pitched slightly higher than usual, and you smile at the flush that spreads across her cheeks. Her eyes are locked on the screen, refusing to meet your gaze. You let it be, knowing now is not the time to be stingy about eye contact. 

“Yes, love. I like how desperate and needy you get when I’m rough,” you say, trying to help her get the words out. “Do you want me to do something more?”

Natasha takes in a shaky breath, but you can feel the steady beat of her heart underneath your palm. You keep stroking her hair, and after a few long moments, she opens her mouth and looks at you for the first time. 

“I want to try choking,” she whispers, her voice soft and quiet. It lacks the usual confidence she speaks with, so you know this is a vulnerable moment for her. 

“Of course, we can try that, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to wrap my hand around that pretty neck of yours, but I was waiting until you were comfortable enough.”

“Oh, well… I think I’d like it very much,” Natasha says with a note of finality, declaring the subject closed. 

Smiling softly, you press a kiss against the top of her head, her soft sigh melting into the skin of your neck. Her cinnamon-scented perfume fills your nose as you turn back to the movie, your mind running with possibilities for later that evening. 

Natasha’s hips move slightly against yours, and you can tell from the heat emanating from between her thighs that she’s thinking about it too. Perfect. You love it when she gets all worked up, she always cums harder when she’s needy.  

—

Your lips move fervently against Natasha’s as the end credits of the movie play. You press the mute button on the remote, before your hands are back on her waist and squeezing tightly. 

She’s moved from her position cuddling into your side, now fully straddling your waist as she moans softly into your mouth. Her hands are around your face, her fingers stretching onto the sides of your head and tangling with your hair. 

The weight of her warm body against yours is sending your senses into overdrive, and you push down the urge inside you to flip her onto her back and have your way with her. You want Natasha to enjoy what comes next, but also feel comfortable. So, you let her start at her own pace. 

That doesn’t include letting her roll her hips against yours. 

“Stay still, baby. I don’t want to have to pin you down this early in the night,” you say, your fingers digging into her hips as she gasps into your mouth. A low whine escapes her as she pulls her lips from yours to look at you with a wounded expression. 

Raising an eyebrow, you pin her with a look. 

“Okay, I’ll keep still,” Natasha says, and you know that it's a lie. She can’t help it, her needy core searching for friction when she gets desperate and fuzzy. You simply nod, letting her lips connect with yours again. 

You make sure to keep your movements slow, your tongue lazily pressing against her lips as her breathing gets heavier. Her chest heaves against yours, pressing firmly against you as her hands start moving, stroking your hair. 

Moving your hands slowly, you reach down to cup her ass, smiling against her mouth at the accompanying moan. Natasha rocks her hips once, before a sharp nip of your teeth against her bottom lip pauses the movement. She holds herself back, her clit begging to hump against something as it throbs uselessly in her pants. 

“Good girl,” you murmur into her mouth, speeding up the movements of your lips against hers. Your hands trail up her sides and in between your bodies, squeezing her breasts as she arches into you. 

Bringing one of your hands up further, you wrap the other around her waist and hold her tightly against you. Your fingers wrap gently around her neck, but not applying any pressure yet. 

Natasha moans, her pupils blown as you disconnect your lips from hers. She’s panting, her lips glistening and cheeks flushed. Her hips are moving slightly, and you smirk. 

“Color?”

“Green, please,” she gasps out. Dark green eyes close briefly, as if savoring the weight of your palm against her throat. 

You squeeze your fingers shut, applying pressure against the sides of her neck. Natasha swallows, and you can feel her throat bob beneath your grip. You take care not to press against her windpipe, only squeezing the sides of her neck. 

“Is this okay?” Your words are soft, your lips mere inches from hers. Natasha nods quickly, pressing herself further against your grip as she chases your lips with her own. You allow it, swallowing her moans as her lips move desperately against hers. 

Wrapping your hand fully around her throat, you apply more pressure. Natasha feels almost weightless, her head spinning and fuzzy as she feels her orgasm building. She can’t think, only focusing on how good she feels as you choke her while her hips move slightly against you. 

“Please,” she whines, the desperate sound causing a groan to escape you. 

“Please what, love?” 

“Fuck, uh… please choke me harder. I want to cum… god I’m so close just please- anything please,” Natasha pleads, her words hurried and desperate. 

You don’t respond, squeezing tighter as she gasps out the word green in response. Her hips are moving harshly against your stomach, grinding down onto your muscles in a frenzied manner. Smiling, you lean in, biting her neck softly and whispering, “Cum for me, Natasha.”

She cums, your hand wrapped around her throat as words of gratitude stream from her lips. Natasha’s hair falls over her shoulders as she looks down at you, your grip slowly releasing so as not to give her a headrush. 

“Thank you, I-” she pauses, catching her breath. “I love trying new things with you.”

“I love them too, baby. Thank you for trusting me,” you say. Kissing her, you let her pour her thanks into the movements of her soft lips. 

Smirking, you whisper against her lips, “Please let me know if you have any other fun things you want to try, I want you to share all your naughty little thoughts with me.”

Natasha blushes again, and you wrap her in a gentle hug.

You love it when she feels safe enough to try new things with you. You couldn't ask for a better girlfriend, and you can’t wait to experience new things with her.

[mochinomnoms]

jade tries to get his pearl PTM to join mountain lovers club, and tries to appear all suave and cool but instead floyd ruins it

"i found these beautiful mushrooms in the forest, would you like to join me, i'll need a hand collecting them for my terrarium"

"yeah maybe after jade will put you in a terrarium, shrimpy"

to get revenge jade helps riddle hide from floyd and these antics continue, until riddle and yuu are found at the same time drinking tea in the heartslaybul garden and the twins make a truce instead of ruining it more

Jade and Floyd do love each other dearly, they're brothers after all, twins at that! And family is the most important thing!

However they also fucking hate each other in a way that only two close siblings could. They can also plan each other's murders in a way that isn't concerning because they are siblings.

But murder is illegal, being annoying isn't though! A skill that both are excellent at.

So Jade is happy to tip Riddle of everytime Floyd is on his way. Though he's not his keeper, he knows his brother like no one else, and almost has a sixth sense of where he is.

“Hey Jade, where's my Goldfishie?” Floyd had a pout as he looked around the classroom. He'd just seen Bluebottle walk out, so he knew that Jade was meeting with him and Shrimpy for his potions project.

“Oh, Riddle left already.” Jade was peacefully cleaning up his notes, tucking loose papers into his folder and closing his notebook. “He was in quite a rush when I mentioned that you'd planned on stopping by.”

Floyd's head snapped over to his brother, eye twitching at Jade's self satisfying smirk.

“...And why'd ya do that?”

Jade cleaned up the rest of the table, tucking his items under his arm. As he towards the door, he passed by his brother, leaning in and giving Floyd a rare, evil grin.

“Payback.”

“Oh, fuck you asshole, that's how you wanna play it huh?” Floyd hissed, jabbing a finger into Jade's chest. “Too can play at that.”

And thus, led to just about a week of the twins sabotaging each other's attempts to get closer to their desired mates.

Jade had been overly 'helpful' with Riddle, tipping him off to an incoming Floyd or coming over to 'talk' with his brother, giving Riddle a moment to escape. He'd even gotten Tony involved, though the little sharkmer wasn't privy as to why Jade had asked him to hang out with Floyd more often.

In Floyd's case, he'd taken time out of his day to interrupt any private moments between you and Jade. Floyd was delighted in talking up a storm with you, slipping in little insults at his brother while at it, much to your confusion. In retaliation to getting others involved in their spat, Floyd decided to bring along Wynfred, which got Jade immensely irked.

It's not until the two are walking within the rose maze, searching for both of their mates, that they finally come to an understanding.

“I haven't seen my Goldfishie all week, and it's your fault!”

“I could say the same to you, every time I manage to get a moment's of peace between us, you come and disrupt the entire thing.”

“That's not the same! You still get to see them, I haven't even managed to take a look at his red hair all week! I'm gonna forget what the color looks like Jade! I'm gonna forget unless I see Goldfishie right now!

“Hmph, I hardly doubt that'll happen. Speaking of, where are our mates?” Jade sighed, peaking around the corner to see a dead end. “They said that the two were having tea in the maze, but I can't even hear their voices.”

Floyd paused, taking a moment to go on his toes and peer over the hedged.

“Hmm...I can't tell, Goldfishie has this rose perfume, but everything around here smells like roses.”

Floyd wrinkled his nose before moving to look at the other hedge, as Jade looked down the other pathway, huffing at the unending paths and walls.

“Oh! I see them!” Jade turned back around to see Floyd halfway over the wall, hissing as he dug his palm into a thorn. “Ow! Geez, stupid flowers.”

Hopping off with a 'hup!', Floyd jogged down the path past Jade, a blissful smile on his face.

“I'm coming Goldfishe~” Jade followed after, snorting at the giggles leaving his brother's mouth.

Jade smiled, despite himself. It was always nice to see his twin happy. He used to make fun of his enamor for Riddle, but after you came around, he's begun to understand why Floyd was the way he was around Riddle.

Floyd stopped, peeking over the corner with a grin, which promptly disappeared. Jade furrowed his brows, speeding over to sneak a look at what made Floyd upset, though it really could be anything.

Though, he had to give Floyd credit, he could see why he was upset.

You sat next to Riddle in a small clearing with a table set, drinking tea and chattering. Based on how Riddle was smiling and laughing, Floyd was probably jealous.

“...not fair.”

Jade looked at Floyd and tilted his head. “Hmm?”

“Is not fair, why does Shrimpy get to make him laugh?” Floyd's frown grew as he pouted. “He never wants to laugh with me!”

Looking back at the pair, Jade felt his chest tighten at the scene. You looked so carefree and bright, like the sun shining through the waves. Floyd was right, it was unfair that you two never shared these sides of you with them.

“You're right, it's quite unfair. Why don't we go and try to get those cute reactions ourselves? I'll make sure Riddle doesn't run off, and you'll do the same with my pearl.”

Floyd grinned, giggling as and offered a hand.

“A truce?”

“A truce.”

The two shook on it emerging from their hiding spot and, rather loudly mind you, announcing:

“Oh Goldfishie~/My Pearl!”

If you were to ask the students of Heartslabyul, they'd say that yours and Riddle's screams of terror could be heard from all over the dorm.

[russellsppttemplates]

Hi I don’t know if your taking requests but if you are and your ok with writing this I was wondering if you could do one where the reader gets the pheromone perfume from TikTok and try’s it out and is with Lando and they go a dinner with all the drivers and she goes to the bathroom and puts it on and Landos reaction is hilarious

Note: I understand the science behind it - even though it's still something science needs to work on (one of my teachers was doing some research on it and we discussed it a lot in class), but I can't help but be a bit sceptical about it, ngl! Until otherwise, my requests are always open and you can send in requests anytime you want!

"Do you have it?", Carmen asked as you looked for the tube inside your bag.

"I can't believe you have it - I'm curious to see how it works, though", Rebecca offered.

"You and me both", you giggled before getting up from the table.

"Where are you going, baby?", Lando asked as soon as you were up.

"I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be right back", you smiled.

"You know she won't vanish into thin air, right?", George joked as Lando followed you with his eyes until he couldn't see you anymore.

"Just making sure she's okay, George, have you ever heard of that?", your boyfriend bit back.

By the time you came back to the bathroom, the group had moved up to the bar area of the restaurant, the room closed off to anyone else so you could have some privacy.

"Hey, baby", Lando hugged you, "I was about to get you something to drink", he smiled, kissing your lips and taking a wiff of your scent, "did you freshen up?".

"Are you telling me I was stinky before?", you joked.

"No, no, it's just you smell really nice, very nice", he kissed along the way from your clavicle, up your neck and behind your ear before something clicked, "This is one of those TikTok things, isn't it? Max showed me last week", Lando searched the answers on your eyes, "which means that if I can smell it, so can anyone else - they can smell you too!", he gasped, "we need to wash this off", he whispered on your ear, squeezing your body against his.

"You're usually all over eachother on any good day, but right now? He's not leaving you to go to the bathroom even!", Carlos chuckled as his friend's antics.

"We have something important to do!", Lando pulled you with him to the bathroom, ignoring the whistles and claps from the group, "I don't care what the soap smells like, you're not going to get close to the guys smelling like this - it's intoxicating, and a bit mind numbing", he sighed.

"That's all you want to do about it, though? I even have that nice lingerie set you really like underneath this", you gestured to your outfit, "we already have the fame, might as well have the advantage too", you smirked.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[sturnioz]

Wait I need to know how you see confident!reader and fratboy!chris first interaction‼️

you needed a new supplier—and you needed one bad.

your previous one, once reliable and always putting you at the top of their priority list, had left town; dropped out of university, packed up their shit and left town without a word, chasing some dream in a place far from here. it was a fucking joke.

you were pissed, as many of the others were too, and the urgent need for a high gnaws at you as a constant reminder as you move through the sea of bodies within the unfamiliar frat house, your nose wrinkling at the thick scent of sweat, cheap cologne and fruity perfumes.

you clutch a red solo cup in hand, the alcohol sloshing inside with each step, a temporary distraction as you search for your friend who had invited you in the first place, trying to find her bleached blonde head in the crowd.

when you finally spot her, she's leaning against the wall, her body angled toward a guy. she bites her bottom lip, fluttering her lashes at him as he speaks, completely captivated. he licks his lips, smirking, and he raises his eyebrow as he pulls a joint from his pocket and tucks it between her breasts in her dress, his fingertips grazing her skin, sending an surge of protectiveness through you.

your brows furrow at the sight and you move forwards, the sound of your platform block heels tapping against the floorboards as you make your way over, wrapping your talon-like nails around her arm to draw her attention away from him.

"everything okay?" you ask, your voice steady but laced with concern as your eyes dart to the guy for a moment, giving him a pointed once-over before returning to your friend. "are you okay?"

"yes!" she giggles drunkenly, her eyes sparkling as she wraps her arm arounds yours. "this is chris — he's the dealer everyone keeps talking about!"

dealer? that catches your attention, piquing your curiosity as you take a more scrutinizing look at him, but your eyebrow arches in scepticism as you notice how he sizes you up, head tilting tightly, a smarmy grin stretching across his lips.

"what are you looking at?" you challenge, your irritation bubbling, unable to hold back.

"you." chris replies, his smirk widening with amusement swimming in his gaze. "you need a new supplier or somethin', kid?"

your eyebrow arches again, "who are you calling 'kid'?"

chris leans back against the wall, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features as his tongue rolls across his teeth, almost as if he's weighing your words. he then sniffs, the action a clear indication that he's taken something previously. "s'what is it that y'want? got weed, coke, pills, m—"

"pretty bold of you to assume that i'll even buy from you in the first place," you cut him off, noting the way his nostrils flare at your challenge, and a smile dances on your lips. "what? not used to being rejected?"

"rejected," he echoes with a breathy laugh, scratching at his jaw in mock contemplation. "s'funny 'cos uh... you're still here," his gaze locks onto yours. "you got that look in your eye too, y'know. obviously want somethin'... 'n right now, it seems like m'your best shot, yeah? 'cos your friend told me all about your lil' dealer runnin' off."

you cast a sidelong glance at your friend, who beams at you, her intoxication evident as she sways slightly. you can't blame her — she's just as frustrated about the disappearing dealer too.

turning your attention back to chris, you find him grinning as if he holds some secret power over you.. you can't help but laugh.

"you do realise that you're not the only dealer on campus, right?"

"known to be the best one," he replies quick, his voice dripping with confidence as he leans in slightly.

"i've only ever heard of you today," you point out, a smirk slipping across your face as you catch the twitch of his jaw, his eyes darkening with irritation. "so, you can't be that good.. kid."

[yeontaescumslut]

𖨆♡𖨆♥︎ ❀᭢᜴꤬⠀ care package

Pairing: Jungwon x Reader

Genre: Idol au, Smut, one shot

Synopsis: You and Jungwon are in a long distance relationship, it’s Valentine’s Day and you send Jungwon a care package with a little something extra for him…

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, praise, if you don’t like Jungwon smut pls just don’t read!

Word count: 1,952

Authors note: Hello lovelies! Just a short little one shot for you guys. I’ve been meaning to do some enhypen so here we go! If you guys have any suggestions or recs feel free to leave them!! They’re very much appreciated ❤️

You and Jungwon have been dating for quite some time now, maybe 8 months, you had met at a college party in July last year and started dating later that month. It is now February, and this will be your first Valentines Day together, except you and Jungwon are long distance right now, he’s back in Korea and your back studying in your hometown as your exchange trip has ended. You and Jungwon still talked everyday and were as happy as ever, so you were trying to come up with a gift for Jungwon for valentines day. Alot of things has crossed your mind, plushies, clothes, jewlery, candy, but none of these sounded good enough. After days of thinking and searching you finally come up with the best idea…a care package, with ALL of his favorite things, but you were going to put a twist on it…..

Days go by as you collect many of Jungwons favorite things, finding a box that would fit everything perfectly. You wrap them individually taking your time and pouring love into each gift. Writing a small note on each one telling him a reason you love him on them. You decorate the box to his liking with his favorite colors. On the top you place one of your plushies you sprayed your perfume on. Carefully closing up the box, taping it securely. The next day you take the box to the post office dropping it off to get sent to Jungwon. That same day when you get home from your errands you call Jungwon.

You: Jungwonnieee!!! I missed you sooo much

Jungwon: My Aegi, I missed you more, how was your day?

You: It was great, I dropped your Valentines Day gift off at the post office!

Jungwon: Really?! I’m so excited to receive it. Yours is also on the way.

You both talk for the rest of your night as he was getting ready for his day. You can’t help but to wonder what his reaction will be when he opens your gift,and the little surprise you threw in…a few days go by, you get a message from Jungwon..

Jungwon: IT ARRIVED!!!!!

Switch to Jungwon POV

He’s giddy carrying the package from the package room back to his dorm room, once he gets in and sets the package down, he begins to open it, grabbing a box cutter from his desk drawer a smile painting across his face as he smells your signature perfume emitting from the box as he cuts it open. He sets the box cutter down on his desk peeling the cardboard back, grinning from ear to ear as he spots the bear blush you had bought together when he last visited you.He carefully goes through the contents of the box, taking his time examining each item and reading each note attached, his heart flutters more and more the deeper he gets into the box, he reaches the bottom and sees a white piece of paper reading “open these last, they’re special ;)” he gets excited as he places the paper to the side, he sees a photobook and a little box next to it, the photobook topped with a sticky note that said “open me first” he takes the sticky note off revealing a photo underneath, a photo of you, in a little black dress, his favorite little black dress. This gets him excited, without hesitation he flips the book open, only to be stopped in his tracks as what he saw made him choke, because what he laid his eyes upon took his breath away. With a stunned look on his face he continues flipping through the pictures. These were naked pictures of you, that you had professionally gotten taken, pictures of you in his favorite positions, pictures showing him your everything. Pictures that only HE would ever see. As he flips through page after page he grew harder and harder, feeling himself grow with each photo, as he reached the last page of the book he saw the words “ Call me” and he never reacted so fast. Grabbing his phone he called you immediately.

You pick up, before you’re even able to get any words out you hear Jungwons voice come through the phone. “Open your gift right now.” As son as you hear the words leave his lips you knew he had seen the gift. Jungwon had told you to wait to open your gift as well, so you grab the box sitting next to you on your bed along with a box cutter. “Why all the sudden Jungwon?” You ask out of genuine curiosity. “Dont ask questions and open it fast”

What you don’t know is jungwon is on the other side of the phone, sitting in his desk chair hand on his throbbing cock that’s poking through the hole of his sweats. He gently palms himself waiting on you to get to your gift, your photos in his hand as he does so, biting down on his lip.

You finally get the box open and you pull out another box…you turn it around and your eyes widen as you see what this is “Jungwon” you say with a seductive tone “Use it rn. It already has batteries in it, I wanna hear and see” he says this in a very stern and demanding tone, the one that really turned you on. You don’t hesitate to do what he says, switching the call over to face time you set your phone up right in front of your bed so he can see everything. You open the toy, baby pink silicone vibrator with a sucking attachment, you bite your lip at the sight knowing this is the exact one you asked for. You slip your shirt off revealing your bare tits to him shaking them in the camera to taunt him. You see him lean back a bit more, his top teeth digging into his bottom lip “God you’re so fucking sexy” the words slip from his lips as you’re now turned around shimmying off your juicy sweats, revealing your baby pink and black thong with a bow on the top, his favorites. He lets out a deep groan stroking himself faster. “Lay down, push your panties to the side ass up. Let me see” you do as he says laying on your stomach pushing your ass into the air, slipping your pointer finger to your core to push your panties to the side revealing your lips to him. “Finger yourself for me” he grunts out breathy. With no hesitation you push your pointer and middle into your core moving your fingers in and out pushing your ass in the air more from the pleasure. You hear wet slopping stroking from your phone, slow and steady as you hear Jungwon panting, “Lay on your back, spread your legs and use your toy. Now.” His breath shaky yet stern, as told you lay on your back placing pillows underneath your head so you can see Jungwon, you bring the toy to your heat testing the settings finding one you liked. You insert the toy moaning in pleasure as it vibrates against your walls, the other part sucking on your clit rips a cry from your throat “FUCK” your eyes shut tight as you’re not used to the feeling. “Good girl, now imagine that’s me rubbing on your clit as my cock is buried in you” You can hear his strokes becoming faster and sloppier, the wet sounds sending shivers down your spine imagining his cock buried deep inside you.

Jungwons pov:

Seeing you in this position is sending him spiraling, he’s panting thinking about your walls enveloping his cock, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog in heat. His vision of your legs spread using the toy he bought you puts a burning pit in his stomach, one he tried to ignore. “Jagiyah flip over let me see it from another angel arasso?” He watched you through the camera as you agree with “Yes sir” flipping onto your stomach pushing your ass up in the air once again, inserting it from that position. This sends Jungwon over the edge, he wanted so bad to be the one pounding your pussy from that angle, wanting to take handfuls of your ass. “Fuck baby, I love seeing you like this, I wish my dick was in your pussy right now, pounding the shit out of your ass, making you cry into the sheets” his head being thrown back as his strokes get faster but still keeping his eyes on the camera not removing them for a second.

Your pov:

This position sending you over the edge as well, the toy hitting you in just the right spot, that’s not even what’s sending you spiraling, it’s jungwons voice, his voice makes your head spin, his words painting across your brain, you really are imagining him pounding you and making you feel this good. Tears painting your pretty face coating your satin sheets that your head is buried into. Your basically slamming your hips into your toy trying to feel every vibration. The sounds coming from the other side of the phone making your stomach twitch. “Jungwonah can I cum” you ask politely nearing your high. “Beg for it princess” and you do just that. “Daddy please, let me cum for you, I’ll cum on your pretty cock” this sends Jungwon spinning, whimpers leaving his throat as he tries to form sentences. “That’s a good girl, yes cum on my cock pretty girl” his hips bucking into his hand your moans and screams ripping from your throat his name on your tongue as your reach your high, so overstimulating yet so satisfying, tears falling from the corners of your eyes, Hearing Jungwons cries from the phone, his eyes shut stars painted across his vision as he bucks his hips one last time shooting his seed up onto his stomach, his head thrown back, onto the back of the chair. Bucking his hips into his hands once again getting out every last drop cries ripping from his throat your name also painted on his tongue. You would’ve never known you were 7,000 miles away.

Breathing heavy, chests rising and falling as you both come down from your highs, your eyes open up again looking at Jungwon on your phone screen, sitting in his chair. His sweaty hair falling onto his forehead, pieces sticking in just the right places. Your eyes sparkle seeing him falling in love all over again. You’re now laid flat on the bed not moving an inch the words manage to slip from your lips “Jungwon, I love you so much” he hears this, opening his eyes tilting his head to look at you through his camera, a smile painted on his face, kitten teeth on display “I love you more princess” “You’re so fucking gorgeous” he says through heavy breaths.

He finally sits up, after cleaning himself off adjusting his sweats back into position. He sits and watches you clean yourself up too. You get yourself situated as well placing your clothes back on and sitting yourself at the end of your bed your phone now in your hand. “Well that toy really works holy shit” you say to him kind of giggling inbetween. “I knew it would, next time it’ll be my cock, but let me use it on you next time I see you” he says biting his lip at you and toying with his hair. “Speaking of when are you coming to see me” you pout at him giving him puppy dog eyes. “Well actually….My flight leaves tomorrow, Happy Valentine’s Day!!”

Notice: REBLOGS LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ MY STUFF!!

[inklore]

if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ ��� ONE WORD.

overboard 

runaway 

repercussions 

sledgehammer 

stargazing 

symmetry 

deathless 

honey 

retrograde 

stitches 

gravity 

helpline 

hollow 

suffer 

pushing 

warrant 

want 

wonder 

emotions 

nonchalant 

lavender 

daydream 

nosebleed 

jigsaw 

static 

float 

limbs 

hologram 

careless 

lush 

rotting 

phonograph 

hypnotic 

splinters 

magnetic 

wasted 

lithium 

dealer 

she

candles 

sabotage 

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

more

misery

like

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

xo

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet 

cherry bullet 

midnight guest 

cherry wish 

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions 

atlas hands 

broken crown 

crystallized words 

filthy pride 

fresh eyes 

heavy feet 

hungry ghosts 

imaginary paintings 

neon jungle 

perfect storm 

slow hands 

stop signs 

sad farewells 

untranslated stars 

after hours 

bad liar 

bonfire heart 

bruised lips 

cherry bomb 

damaged goods 

dead end 

fire away 

gunpowder hourglass 

lonely together 

lost language 

old moons 

one dance 

paper knees 

sleepy eyes 

stolen dance 

vice city 

artificial heart 

cry baby 

daylight fading 

dream awake 

empty bottle 

exit wounds 

ghost orchards 

moving stones 

paper walls 

oceans away 

playing fiction 

something wild 

wild thoughts 

everybody’s fool 

eyes closed 

storms incarnate 

writing tragedies 

stereo driver 

soul searching 

party’s over 

backseat driving 

fearful heart 

backwards directions 

nosebleed seats 

high hopes 

lovers rock

wet dream 

selfish soul 

washed away 

rose rogue 

midnight sun 

teenage fantasy 

wandering romance 

sure thing 

wildest dreams 

rock candy

losing momentum 

ruin you 

heart holiday 

sink her 

cut splinters 

hot mess 

frozen devotion 

little star 

blind faith 

favorite crime 

romantic homicide 

those eyes 

play pretend 

plot line 

pretty poison 

intimidate you 

pretty face 

strawberry kisses 

lovers rock 

worlds apart 

desperate/separate ways 

those eyes 

the blonde 

loving machine 

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed 

bleed for love

between the bars 

can’t be still

cold morning mist 

in cold blood

matter of time 

piece by piece 

ship to wreck 

taut with love 

waste a moment 

can’t see straight 

down and out 

in a blackout 

just like fire 

notes on tenderness 

across the room

fire with fire 

going half-mad

loving to ruins 

rust to gold

send my love 

talking in code 

cradling a dream 

cut to black 

dear to me 

run me dry 

dancing with demons 

kiss and tell 

if you care 

the cry out 

steal this night 

just for now 

heart on fire 

hold my head 

nobody but you 

simple and plain

a familiar sound 

fool for you 

drown your memory 

falling into you 

just like heaven 

warm like beaches 

love that stings 

rotting in places 

moves on you 

save your tears 

a single tear 

light my cigarette 

long nights, daydreams 

boys like you 

love me forever 

hands on me 

like a phonograph 

taking over me 

dug so deep 

touch the ground 

heart shaped box 

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine 

love me wrong

kiss or kill 

exes and why’s 

love is easy 

stupid in love 

easy to love

lost with you 

glimpse of us 

keep you safe 

death with dignity 

just like heaven 

heart of glass 

baby i’m yours 

pull my strings 

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do 

on a war path 

blood on the surface 

corner of the sky 

do the divine love 

drinking the corinthian sun 

everything is laced in (add word) 

lost in the moment 

in the nick of time 

mouth like a pomegranate 

the bones you’re made of 

when the mania speaks 

all desire & no thought 

blue in the face 

collapsing and relapsing 

middle of the night 

sail to the sun 

lay down your arms 

falling into the sky 

take me where your heart is 

she’s like the bad weather 

kill for your love 

the cigarette and the smoker 

the match and the fuse 

saint, i’m a sinner 

when the sky comes falling 

pretty little hand in mine 

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset 

tangled up with you all night 

paper airplanes flying 

maybe i’m a fool 

tastes like rock candy 

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die 

fate is losing its patience 

at least we feel alive 

death for your secrets 

someone’s gonna ruin you 

dancing in a crowded room 

smell you on my clothes 

always taste like you 

leave me wanting more 

hunger for (insert here) 

swim before you drown 

put your hands on me 

drink my (these) tears and cry 

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you 

so high we never stood a chance 

i’d break down anytime for you 

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true 

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette 

lips on my cold neck 

talking in my sleep 

make me feel like someone else 

locked inside your heart 

hooked on her flesh 

it’s bloody and raw 

the angel of small death 

just a couple sinners 

smiles cover your heart 

charmer and the snake 

stuck on your thumb 

if i killed someone for you 

dancing with your ghost 

i miss you, i’m sorry 

woman of the hour 

shut up and look pretty 

queen of the night 

devil in a dress 

the thought of you 

to be your lover 

falling over you 

just like a movie 

love on the line 

[scorpioriesling]

Those prompts are so good omg… what if smut 38 and 15 with az !?

Midnights

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Azriel x reader

Warnings: smut, mdni, 18+, oral (fem recieving), mentions of weed and alcohol, pining if you squint

Summary: You absolutely cannot sleep, and of course you're out of all of your usual sleep-remedies. Who would be awake at this hour anyway to ask for help? You don't need to think long -- the answer comes through your phone at the moment you needed it.

SR’s Note: Thank you anon for the request and for your patience -- this uses prompts #15 and #38! Enjoy, xoxo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Every night it was the same -- you'd always end up being scheduled late at the bar, which of course meant getting home at an ungodly hour, thus leaving you to finally lie down in bed in the very early hours of the morning.

You didn't complain; the cash folded neatly inside your bulging wallet kept you quiet about that, especially considering it was a Friday night and the customers at the bar were feeling rather generous tonight.

Although you made enough in tips on top of what you'd earned each hour, it almost made up for the job at hand. Sure, you'd spent your paid eight hours mixing and whisking away at drinks; but you'd also conversed, brought up the energy, and had to play off the frequent attention you'd recieved shift after shift.

There were only so many responses that you could come up with to "let me get your number, baby!" that were light-hearted and fun, but still dodgy enough that you didn't actually need to give it out. Can't hurt a male's ego too bad, if you piss someone off too much, it could cost you a job.

Overall, it was just exhausting.

Nonetheless -- you flipped back and forth between your sheets, desperately searching for sleep; a concept that seemed just out of reach as your eyes fluttered open for the hundredth time, no matter how many times you'd forced them shut.

Reaching toward your bedside table, you clicked the power button on your phone, the bright screen in your dark room causing you to squint at the intensity. 2:53 AM. Why couldn't you fall asleep?

Sighing, you place your phone in its original spot, flopping onto your back and running a hand over your face. You stare blankly at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do. You'd used the last of the sleepy tea that your best friend gave you -- Nesta swore by it -- and were out of weed, which always relaxed you enough that you may drift off easier.

Nesta was for sure asleep by now. She already chastized you for your plans to not attend training with her in the morning -- forgive you, that you'd choose to spend your Saturday morning sleeping in rather than watch her and her boyfriend pretend not to undress eachother with their eyes, thank you -- so, at this hour, she would be long asleep.

As you're racking your brain, your phone buzzes beside you. You reach for it once more, turning the brightness down to see the screen more clearly.

Wow. A message from the last person you'd expect tonight.

You up?

You read the text again, and again, looking up at the name and back at the gray text bubble to make sure you're seeing straight.

I am...

You stare at your phone screen blankly, waiting a few moments before three little dots pop up.

I can't sleep.

You probably should, you type back. Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?

Considering the sounds from down the hallway... I don't think anyone is going to be awake tomorrow morning for training.

You bite your bottom lip, chewing on the skin. So... Nesta definitely was awake. Awake, but... busy. You could just text her instead, ask her for some more of her tea. She would be able to get it to you, seeing as she isn't getting any shut-eye.

But, instead, you type back.

Want to come over?

✧･ﾟ: *

You're rushing around your bathroom, brushing your hair and spraying yourself with perfume when you hear a light tapping on your window. It's then that you look up, meeting your own eyes in the mirror, and scowl. He's just an acquaintence, you think to yourself. Why stress so much over how you look?

Maybe, because he is handsome.

Come on, you mentally slap yourself. You've met him only a few times anyway. He probably won't even care that much.

But you care. You really care-

It is 3 AM, he will understand.

You continue your mental battle in your head as you nervously pad over to your window, drawing the curtains and pushing the glass up. The moonlight bends around his hulking form -- and you can see his dark, touseled hair shining in the pale light. He tucks his wings behind him, leaning so suddenly close to climb through.

"Hey," he utters. You back up as he squeezes through, grunting when his feet finally hit the floor. You stare at him, looking up and down unabashedly. He has ditched his usual leathers for gray sweats, a cotton black tank, and tennis shoes.

Holy shit-

"Are you just gonna stare at me or..."

Your cheeks heat, and you quickly glance anywhere but him.

"No! Uh, no, I... welcome, uh..." you search for words, and he chuckles.

"You just get off work?" He asks, making way through your room for your living room. You trail behind him, your brow only furrowing slightly that you're following him through your apartment.

"Yes...?" You say. He plops down, making to untie his shoes and get comfy on the cushions. You simply watch in amusement, finding it rather hard to tear your eyes away from his massive biceps-

"Do you always stare or am I just now realizing it?" He teases again, kicking his final shoe off as he adjusts his hips on the couch. His arm lazily drapes over the back of it, and you scoff.

"No," you say defensively. "I am just amused that this is the first time you're in my apartment, and you are acting as if you've been here a hundred times before." You shrug, making way for the fridge.

"You got anything to drink?" He asks, changing the subject immediately. You reach inside, crouching to look between the shelves for anything other than the usual.

"Do you want alcohol? Or just a regular drink?" You ask. Azriel chuckles again, and you poke your head out for just a moment to see him smiling lightly at you and shaking his head.

"Ahh," he sighs. "You're a funny girl, Y/N." You raise an eyebrow.

"Just a normal drink, please. Don't want to be too fucked up if I'm going to try and fly out of here later." He reasons. Your heart sinks just a tiny bit at that, wishing he'd stay.

Don't be delusional.

"Water it is." You pull too bottles from the shelf, tossing one to him. He catches it, uncapping and taking a few long drinks before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You try not to stare again as you make your way to the couch beside him.

"So..." You say awkwardly, reaching for the remote to click on the TV. "What made you uh," you smile nervously. "What made you text me of all people in the middle of the night?"

Azriel shrugs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean, I told you about your friend and Cass. I hate when they wait so late to start with... you know... whatever they do," he avoids the word.

"Fucking?" You raise an eyebrow, and his eyes meet yours.

"Uh... yeah. That." He coughs, and you smirk, clicking through the suggested shows on Hulu.

"Still doesn't explain why you came here though. Don't you have like, a million friends? Or, a girlfriend or something? I thought you and-"

"Nahh, nah." He interjects, shaking his head. "Just the Inner Circle. Well, them and now you, I guess, since Nesta started bringin' you around."

Your heart swells, the mini-crush on this handsome male from training only growing with every minute he spends on your couch.

"I knew it'd be quieter here, I guess." He says in finality.

You pause, crossing your legs and turning to face him.

"And, how would you know that?"

"Know... what?" He asks.

"Know it would be quiet here?"

He looks side to side, playing with the silver band on his finger. "I don't know, I mean, why wouldn't it be?"

You frown. "Did you just assume I didn't have some else I was spending my time with?" His head tilts to the side in consideration.

"You know what I mean. Fucking?" A light rosy blush fans across his cheekbones, and he shakes his head.

"No, I uh, I didn't think you had anyone here. I know you didn't, actually, um, Cassian told me-"

"Told you what." You demand, inching closer and closer. The smell of mist and cedar infiltrates your senses, and you have to remind yourself to remain steadfast.

"He... he told me you weren't seeing anybody. Haven't been, for a while, actually." You pause, staring into his hazel eyes that search yours.

"Wait, what?" You say. His hand on the back of the couch slides to meet your bare arm, and you almost shudder at the contact. "W-why would he tell you that?" You ask.

Azriel leans closer, his pupils dilating with every inch he draws nearer. He's so close that you can count every light freckle on his nose, see every fracture of color in his irises -- so close, just an inch or two more and his inviting lips would be on yours.

"Because I asked him. About you." His hand on your shoulder slowly trails up, brushing across your shoulder and snaking down toward your hip. You only now realize the position you're in -- you're practically atop him, he casually leans back against the L-shaped couch, and you've all but crawled between his legs and sat in his lap at this point.

"Why ask..." you trail off, and his other hand moves to brush a fallen strand of hair from your forehead. He smiles softly up at you, his thumb brushing against the swell of your cheek.

"I had to know if I actually had a chance," he whispers, his fingers lightly holding your jaw and pulling you down to him. "Before I did this."

His lips were definitely inviting. Warm, and soft as they slid across yours, fitting perfectly against the skin of your own. He held you firmly, pulling you closer so that you were in fact straddling him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping across your bottom lip. You allowed him in, your own dancing with his in a tango of passion as his fingers gripped your hip tighter. His other hand roamed downward, first, lightly gripping the column of your throat. You softly moaned into his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss.

His fingers kept travelling, down, down, over the curve of your breast, where he squeezed lightly before finding purchase on your other hipbone. You fingers tangled in his hair, softly skating through the strands as you continued to relish in the taste of him.

"Sweet thing," he pulls back, only slightly breathless as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. You gulp a few lungfuls of air in, and match his gaze, which is focused on your pelvis, unsubconciously moving in small circles atop his lap. He looks up at you again, chuckling before connecting your lips once more.

"You can't," he breaks the kiss for a breath. "...keep doing that..." He goes back in for more, his hands snaking behind you to grip your ass. You squeak, and he grins slyly at you. "...I can't fuck you on the first night, Y/N," he says, his gaze finding yours again. Oh, how good your name sounds coming from his lips...

"You'll see me for more than just one night?" You ask, and his eyes soften as he pulls you in for another quick peck.

"I'd like to see you every night, if you'd allow me." You giggle, and he smiles warmly up at you before pressing a trail of sweet kisses from the corner of your mouth, down your jawline in a descent over the column of your neck. He lightly bites on the junction between your neck and shoulder, eliciting another soft whine from you.

"Azriel..."

You can feel the pressure between your legs only growing, the thin material of his sweatpants the only barrier between your cotton shorts and his hardening length. He pulls back, his hands lifting you off of him for a moment as he slides down to lay flat on the couch.

"Az... what-"

"Sit on my face, baby." He asks, his fingers tugging on your hips as he adjusts his wings underneath him. Your eyes widen, and he pulls on the waistband of your shorts. "Please... I want to take care of you."

You stand, shucking off your tiny shorts and watch as he marvels at the thong you had on underneath. You peel if from you, discarding them before returning to position yourself right over his awaiting mouth.

"Mmm," he hums, his lips kissing the inside of your thighs softly as you tremble over him. You can feel your arousal leaking from your core, surely trailing down your inner thighs at this point, and you place your hands on the back of the couch as his deliciously rough hands grip your ass again.

"So fucking perfect Y/N..." he mumbles, licking a slow stripe between your folds that has you gasping. "So fucking wet, just for me."

His lips press into you, his tongue working to stimulate every last nerve ending you have down there as you grip the back of the couch, whining and panting pathetically above him. His hands search across your ass, gripping your hips, and holding your thighs wide for him when you try to close them around his head.

"Fuck, Azriel... eating me so good..." you cry out as his lips find your clit, sucking on it harshly without warning. You feel the liquid fire in your lower belly being set ablaze, growing hotter and hotter with each expert flick of his tongue against your dripping heat-

"Mhmm, you like it when I eat you out?" He mumbles, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as his tongue dodges in and out of your core.

"Fuck! Please... oh Gods.. yes Az-" you pant, your hands braced behind you on his thighs as your eyes look down to meet his. Your met with a sinister stare as his mouth detaches from you one last time.

"Come for me, sweet girl," he commands. You cry out desperately, his tongue so deep inside you that his nose nudges your clit with each minstration. A few more swipes of his lips against your pussy, and you're coming undone.

"Azriel!" You groan, your lower half slightly shaking as your orgasm shoots through you. His hands hold you in place over him, his tongue licking up every last drop of you that spills out before kissing your inner thighs one more time.

He delicately lifts you off of him, laying you down on the cushions as he stands up beside the couch, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You can taste yourself on him, and he allows you to by kissing you longer, and longer...

"Sweet girl," he pulls back, his hand cupping your cheek lightly. You gaze up at him, all the adoration in the world as his chin glistens in the moonlight with your essence. "Tell me where I can find you a towel?"

Your heart melts, and you silently point to the bathroom. He makes his way over, coming back a few moments later with a warm rag to help clean you up. You move to take it from him, but he only shakes his head at you.

"I said I would take care of you," he offers. You stare at him, bewildered where your night has gone and what all has come out of it. Once you're clean, he simply picks you up in his arms, carrying you gently to your bed before resting you upon it and tucking the covers around you comfortably.

"Az," you reach for him when he moves to leave your bedside, and he turns to face you once more.

"Yes?" He asks. You grab his hand, pulling him close to you.

"Please, stay?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. "You know I want to-"

"So stay," you cut in.

"We haven't even had a first date yet," You can practically see the war in his eyes, but reluctantly, he folds his wings in close and walks around to the other side of the bed and pulls the blankets back.

"I don't want you to think this is just for the night," he continues, nuzzling in close and pulling you flush against his chest. "I want things to be more than... just, something for one night, Y/N."

"I do too Az, really," you kiss his cheek, and he grins.

"And, I promise, I won't think its just for one night. I'll trust you," you say, and his fingers roam over your bare bottom, resting comfortably there as his heavy-lidded stare meets yours once more before you drift off in his warm embrace.

"As long as you come back tomorrow."

✧･ﾟ: *

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Last word (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Aemond instructs you on the importance of protecting your virtue. Featuring bratty reader and the good old enemies to lovers.

Warnings: Smut. Titty sucking. Degradation. PWP.

A/N: I have the most dreadful cold because I can’t dress for the season. I did as I often do and reread one of my comfort books, Seducing Mr Bridgerton. Here you go. I needed to get this out of my head.

“What were you thinking?” Aemond drags you towards the carriage, barely allowing your feet to touch the ground. He gestures angrily at the coachman, but you are too furious to care.

“What was I thinking? You are the one sneaking around the Street of Silk when your father just died. I thought you…”

“What?” Aemond snarls, roughly pushing you inside the carriage. “You thought I needed your help? You thought I was as weak willed and pathetic as Aegon, coming to drown my sorrows?”

You gape at him. It’s exactly what you were thinking, although in much harsher words than you would have used. When you saw him and Cole leave the palace, you had a rented carriage to follow them, worried about Aemond.

He was not the easiest man to be around. But he was your betrothed, and you worried about him. And you guessed he cared about you, in his own twisted way. He was not the most affectionate of men, but he tolerated your incessant questioning and chatter, as he called it.

It is to be noted that Aemond didn’t make the task of caring for him easy. Yet, you worried either way. Not only because it was your duty to do so, but because you were friendless in the Red Keep and had nothing better to do.

To Queen Alicent, you were the perfect daughter-in-law. She often mistook your interest in Aemond’s whereabouts for devotion, when at best, you two tolerated each other.

Perhaps it hadn’t been the wisest choice, to follow him on a borrowed carriage. You had promised the merchant a few silver dragons for it, leaving him stranded on the Red Keep. Your curiosity had been picked when you saw Aemond and Ser Criston go out of the Red Keep’s walls dressed as commoners. Not wanting to lose them, you had not bothered to change, and showed up in Fleabottom in a gown much too pretty for it.

You were certain you were about to get mugged when Aemond showed up and dragged you back to safety. There had been a couple of men eyeing you in funny ways, and two women you were pretty sure were whores had offered you company.

“I don’t need your compassion, you fool.” Aemond sat down next to you, scowling. It was not the first time you angered him, but it was the first time you saw him this pent-up. He looked like he was about to strangle you. “You should not have ventured outside. It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh, too dangerous? What were you doing out without guards, then?” Thinking yourself so discrete, you sniffed at him. He smelt like usual. No traces of cheap perfume, nor alcohol. No whores, no ale houses.

“Cole and I split up to search for Aegon. I was not drinking, you silly woman.” Aemond leaned in, to let you smell his breath. He smelled strongly of tea. Nothing more. Still, you scowled back in principle. “Besides, it’s different. I am a man. You are a woman.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You crossed your arms over your chest. Aemond politely averted his eye from you, looking flustered.

“I can defend myself. You can’t.” His eye was firmly on his boots. You were so not letting this go, not when you had the upper hand. Perhaps you were a petty person, but no one liked being told they were defenseless, even when it was technically true.

“I can!”

“Oh? What if instead of me, it was another man dragging you out of that alley? You don’t even carry a dagger, for the Seven’s sake!” Aemond looked at you. He might have a point about that. Not even a few minutes ago, you had shrieked in terror at what you thought was a stranger trying to drag you away. A dagger could have come in use, and in fact, you owned one. A small silver one, that Aemond had gifted you, and you had not thought to bring along.

“Not that I would know how to use it.” You mutter, weakly. You are starting to lose the argument and don’t like it.

“I told you I would teach you when we had time.” And it wasn’t like he truly wanted to teach you. The dagger had been gifted to you only after a pointed comment from his mother, reminding him loudly that young ladies expected gifts when courted. By the horrified look on Queen Alicent’s face when you had opened the carved box, this was not what she had had in mind.

It had been clear then, with Aemond making half serious promises to teach you how to use it, that the dagger was meant to annoy his mother and not as a gift. Weaponized incompetence, never more aptly named. Alicent had not asked him again to put any more effort in wooing you.

“But you never have time! You are always running after Aegon.” It came out more bratty than you intended, and it only served to rile him up further. Aemond pinched the bridge of his nose, before turning to face you once more.

“Because that’s my duty, you hare brained…” His tone was full of venom, and you wouldn’t let the slight pass. You hated when he made remarks about your intelligence, always thinking himself the smartest in the room. Perhaps you had not had the chance to receive the same education as him, but you thought yourself moderately clever. Aemond, instead, thought you were empty-headed and only concerned with pink ribbons and silks.

“Don’t! I am not…”

“Oh, but you are.” Aemond grunted, before roughly grabbing your face. The sudden motion surprised you, and so, you only gaped at him. He looked like he was about to murder you. Idly, you wondered if you had finally pushed him to his breaking point.

But instead of murdering you, Aemond leaned in and kissed you. It was not the first time it happened, really. He had kissed you before. Once, at Alicent’s prompting, on the forehead. Another time, your cheek, icy, during your name day. Never on the mouth before. And never in anger.

After a few more seconds of absolute and utter shock, just as Aemond was starting to pull away and apologize, you were kissing him. Furiously. You compensated your lack of experience with rage, pushing at his mouth, biting at his lips, until he budged.

As you parted, both of your chest heaving up and down in strangled breaths, Aemond still took the time to chastise you.

“No concerns for your honor… No concerns for your safety…” Aemond kissed your cheek, almost feverishly. His lips traced the contours of your jaw, and like a man starved, he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

It was hard to take him seriously, though. Whatever anger his face held, it could not be seen by you. He was too busy kissing imaginary paths down your neck for it.

Unexpectedly, it felt good. There was a pleasurable heat forming right on your stomach. You wanted so badly to melt against it, turn into butter in his arms, but you knew Aemond would never let you hear the end of it if you did.

With a mighty pull on his hair, that made him yelp like a kitten, you got him off you, and shifted to straddle his lap.

“I am concerned.” You grumbled, biting at his jaw. He was actually quite handsome, you realized. How had you not noticed sooner? “I would fight you, if it wasn’t you.”

You kissed him, a lot more brutal. Aemond hissed. Apparently, he took issue with his hair being pulled so roughly, or perhaps your lips on his felt good.

“You are not. I bet you would have let any man jump you in that alley.” His tone was angry, but his hands told another story. They were cupping greedily at your hips, squeezing your ass.

“By the Seven!” You groan, unable to be angry any longer. His hands feel warm and big against your hips, too good to complain. There is something hard poking at your stomach, and you try to bring a hand towards it, but Aemond rolls you over and pins you down before you have the chance.

With your wrists pinned down above your head, laying on the borrowed carriage’s seat, there is not much you can do. You look up at him, helplessly.

Aemond leans in, and presses a kiss right above your pulse point. He follows it with another, slightly lower this time. And another, and another. Until his lips are bumping against your collarbones, and he looks up at you with a desperate eye.

He looks wrecked. Hair in disarray, flushed cheeks, swollen mouth. He still wears the angry scowl.

“I don’t think I can control myself any longer.” Aemond whispers, as if telling you a secret. He rubs his thumb over one of your breasts, making you arch under him. It’s unlike anything else you have ever felt. You feel as if that simple touch has set you on fire. As if you are burning up in need.

“Aemond.” You plead, desperate for anything that he is willing to give you.

“I despise you. You are the most infuriating, nagging woman I know.” He tugs the bodice of your dress a little lower, kissing the start of the path between your breasts.

“And you are a pompous, terrible man.” You answer, almost in reflex. Then, because you are furious he is having such an effect on you, you go the extra mile and add. “I rue the day I have to marry you.”

“Sure.” Aemond mocks, sucking a bruise at the top of your breast. He pinches your buds, almost cruelly. You gasp, not knowing if you should pull away or closer.

Giving you a little respite, his hands come to undo the first buttons of your gown. That allows him to pull it a little lower, baring your breasts to him. But instead of going straight for the prize, Aemond takes his time exploring the curves of your shoulder and neck.

You are so desperate for him, you think you might beg him to kiss your breasts. Your poor, ignored nubs ache.

“I despise you.” You mutter, hoping it does the trick. To your surprise, Aemond laughs. Laughs. Him. Before, on the days you were most lucky, you have gotten him to smile.

“I know you don’t.” He says, as he finally, finally, starts sucking at your breast. You moan, tangling a hand in his hair.

Aemond is many things. Determined is one of them. He keeps at it, until you are moaning so unashamedly you think the coachman must be hearing you. You are building towards something, wetness gathering between your thighs, back sweaty, Aemond’s skillful mouth wrapped around you.

You risk a glance at his expression. The vision is almost obscene. His eye is closed in bliss, cheeks flushed, seemingly unaware of the effect his actions are causing on you. His hips are doing small aborted motions against your leg.

You feel as if you are on the edge of something. You scratch his scalp with your nails, needing just a little more. But at the exact moment he opens his eye to look at you, the carriage jerks to a stop.

Hurriedly, you nearly throw him off you. Any second now, the coachman will open the door, and he cannot see you partially naked under a man, no matter if it’s your betrothed.

Aemond, not even needing to be told what the issue is, quickly rightens himself. As the coachman opens the door and goes to help you out of the carriage, Aemond dismisses him with a wave of a hand.

He gets off the carriage in an agile little jump, and offers you a hand.

“I think, betrothed, you don’t rue the day you will have to marry me.” Aemond whispers, as he helps you down. He kisses your cheek, making you squirm. The memory of those same lips in other parts of you is too fresh not to. “I think you are awaiting the wedding night so impatiently, you must be gushing.”

Your cheeks heat up at the double entendre. It’s true, you are beyond wet. If Aemond was not so stuck to his own moral code, if he didn’t think himself superior to you, you would tell him. But you know if you do, he wouldn’t help, but deny you. So instead, you lean in, hand grasping at his thigh for support.

“I think, my Prince, you should look into a mirror. Because that…” You point between his legs. “Looks painful.” And with a kiss on his cheek, you leave him there, standing next to a borrowed carriage and having to endure the humiliation of paying for the ride.

You cackle all the way to your rooms. He will probably have his revenge later, embarrassing you in some way, but you are too high in your triumph to care.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Love Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your fiance suggests incorporating roleplay in the bedroom to keep the spark alive, but playing pretend turns out to be all too real.

Characters: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I did this because I could.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'You ready?' 

A tingle accompanies the text. Your stomach tosses and turns at the thought. You think you're ready. As ready as you can be. It's all so new to you. 

You hover your finger over the automated reply suggested by the OS. You tap on 'yes', too shaky to type it yourself. You're not scared, just nervous. 

When Andy first brought up the idea, you laughed. It was so absurd. Silly really. 

You remember how the look he gave you was like hands on your throat. The hurt with an edge of agitation strangled away your laughter. You apologised and asked him if you heard him right. Then he explained and it made sense. Kind of. 

'If we're going to get married, we need to keep the flame alive,' your fiance said as you stirred the contents of a pan with a spatula. 'Trust me, I know. A dead bedroom can kill everything else.' 

You frown at the memory. You hate when he mentions his first wife. He's engaged to you now. You're not her. Besides, things are pretty good. That's why you laughed. There was nothing bland to spice up. At least, you hadn't thought so. 

'You know the plan?' He texts. Always thorough, if not persistent. 

'I think' you type as you squeeze your phone tighter then think better of the reply. You backspace. Remember the plan. 'Yes, sir.' 

You blow out between your lip and put the phone on the counter. You look in the mirror and pick up the bottle of moisturizer, smearing it over your face. Half the day you've spent prepping yourself. Everything has to be perfect. Andy is always certain of that. 

You snap the cap shut and peruse the rest of the basket. He thought of everything. New soaps, wax, perfume, and all sorts of goodies. You didn't need it all but he insisted. 

Everything about Andy Barber is pristine and tidy. His house not least of his carefully curated existence. So it is that you often feel as if you don't quite fit it, even when he tells you the opposite. 

Your phone vibes and you look down at the screen as the notification flashes, 'good girl.' 

Your lashes bat and you giggle thinly. You've never done anything like this. You struggle to get a precise grip on the tweezers and have to still your hand with the other. This is wild! 

You rub your thighs together and strike hotter the flame of your anticipation. As much as the whole thing has you uncertain, it has you alight. You steady yourself and lean into the mirror, just a few stray hairs. It shouldn't matter, it'll be dark, right? 

Your phone goes again. You pull back and glance down. You trade the tweezers for the cell and press your lips together. 

'Did you find your surprise?' 

You look up and search your expression. Surprise? You lower your brow and peer around the bathroom. There's more? 

'Bedroom' his next message comes bluntly. 

You chew your lip and leave the mirror behind. You go down to the main bedroom and ease through the door. The room still smells of his cologne. The whole place is drenched in him, meanwhile most people wouldn't guess at a glance that you lived there too. 

You see it on the bed. White silk and lace. The lingerie is sheer enough that you may as well forego it. You near and touch the scalloped hem. You know it must be expensive, funny how so little fabric can be worth so much. 

You step back and take a picture. You send it to Andy and wait, your thumb between your teeth. He replies. 

'Put it on.' 

His blunt orders add to the thrum coursing through you already. It seems he's already in character. You need to get yourself together and do your part. 

'Yes, sir.' 

You set the phone on the corner of the mattress and trade your bathroom for the lingerie. The thong, while high-waisted has you on full display. Not ass, no crotch, just lace straps that trim your thighs and bottom. The top is an open teddy with cups that do nothing to censor your pert nipples. Just wearing it sends a thrill through you. 

You take the phone and return to the bathroom. You use the full-length mirror to frame your reflection with the lens. You snap a few pics and sift through for the best one. You hesitate before you tap the little arrow. You're a mess of paranoia and lust; you shouldn't send photos like this and yet you can't help yourself. 

You wait for his reply. Wait and wait and wait. You have to stop yourself from staring at the phone, knowing that your hyperfocus will only slow time. You cross to the counter and place the phone near the edge. 

Your attention is drawn to the sheer fabric acrosd your chest. You can't suppress the moan that leaks from you. You can feel how excited you already are but your eagerness might just get in the way of the whole thing. 

You sigh and the buzz draws you back from your anxiety. You read the message, almost disappointed. 

'Midnight.' 

That's it. That's all he has to say. Was the pic not good enough? Is this part of the roleplay? You don't know. 

As ever, Andy has you guessing at what he really wants. Hopefully this time, you get it right. 

💕

10:47pm. You’re wired. You’re trying to settle down. You have freshly laundered bedding and a glass of wine; all the perfect ingredients to lull you to sleep. That’s all you need to do. Fall asleep. 

Yet knowing what’s coming won’t let your mind stop. Ugh, your heart is racing again. You need to finish the wine. You push yourself up and have another gulp. You lay in the glow of your phone, a Get Ready With Me playing on low volume. Usually this all works. 

Not tonight. You’re too buzzy. Too frazzled. Too eager! 

You empty the glass and lay back down. You were generous, filling the wide body of the glass to the halfway point. At least two regular glasses worth.  

Your head meets the pillow and you start to feel it. The acidic burn spreads through your veins and you sink into the soft sheets. You turn your head to watch the small screen of your phone, vision slowly hazing as the contoured woman applies her lip liner expertly. 

Your eyelids cling and start to itch. Your heady is swishy, your tummy too, and your limbs weaken. It’s working. You try not to think too much about it, not wanting to counteract the alcohol with your self-awareness. 

You roll onto your side and drift into a half-conscious daze. Your brain swirls and your blood burns hot. Your breathing slows and piques only when your rouse, glancing at your phone as a new video plays. The time stamps into your vision; 11:25. 

You curl your shoulders inward, more tired than anxious now, and slip back into your tipsy stupour. The screen is just a glow on the other side of your eyelids and the audio a scratch in your ears. It fades beneath the even ebb and flow of your quiet snores. 

As the light fades out and the sound dwindles to nothing but the still of night, you wake again. Your eyes open to the darkness. You’re alone. Confused. 

You feel around on the bed for your phone. It must have timed out or the battery died. You don’t find it. Instead, your wrist is trapped in a strong grip and dragged away from the duvet. You gasp and remember what’s going on. It’s starting. He’s there. 

“Ah, ah,” comes the grizzled tut as your other arm is seized and your hands are brought together above your head. 

Andy’s shadowy figure straddles you, pinning you to the mattress as you squirm. You let out a squeak and he hushes you. You still and arch your back, trying to push your chest up. 

“Please, who are you?” You whine, doing your best to play into the scenario. “Please, my husband will be home soon--” 

He shushes you again, holding your wrists together as he leans back to reach behind him. You can hardly see through the dark and your foggy tipsiness. The curtains have been drawn, obscuring the room to fuzzy lines and pulsing shadows. 

He hooks something around your arm; a leather cuff, then secures your other wrist. He keeps your arms up and reaches behind the mattress. He attaches the wring between the cuffs to some unseen hook. Where did that come from? 

You writhe as he stares down at you. You squint back at him, trying to see through the dim. Something feels off. He’s so quiet and forceful. It must be part of the roleplay but it just doesn’t feel like him. He feels like a stranger. 

He backs off of you, peeling back the duvet to drop it on the floor. He prowls along the foot of the bed and you kick your feet, whimpering as you strain against the cuffs. You keep forgetting it’s a game. You have to play your part too. 

“Please, don’t hurt me,” you beg. 

There’s no answer. Andy continues to pace, back and forth, back and forth. He's really transformed. Where he would usually have his hands on his hips, he has them folded behind him, shoulders squared, his steps lighter. 

He stops and lets out a willowy rasp. He unzips his jacket, slipping off the sleeves slowly, deliberately. You lift your head as you try to see him clearer. Did he change? He must have dressed up too. 

Then he pulls his shirt over his head and huffs out again, a growl catching in his throat. He drops the shirt with his jacket and the duvet. Andy never leaves a garment outside the closet or hamper but this isn’t Andy, remember? This is an intruder! And you’re the helpless housewife. 

You nearly moan at the thought. Something about it is so hot even if it makes you a bit squidgy too. You tug again on your wrists as you hear his zipper slice through the din. 

“Please--” you beg. 

He kicks the footboard and the loud bang silences you. You can’t help the pathetic noise that trickles from your tongue and you swallow. He’s doing good. It feels so real. 

He continues to undress. Your heartbeat picks up as you wait for him to really start. He bends to pick something up then climbs over the footboard onto the bed. For a moment, you wince. His silhouette is slimmer. Or seems so. The difference is so minuscule it might be your wine-laced brain playing tricks. 

He catches your kicking feet and pushes your legs wide. He trails his hands up them, a piece of fabric tickling beneath his left palm, and firmly hooks them around him as he moves between them. He stops at your pelvis, his rigid length hovering over you. He stretches the black cloth across your eyes, blotting out what little sight you have. He knots the band behind your head and you gasp. 

He traces along your cheeks and your jawline, as if he can see you through the dark, as if he’s learning you by touch. His fingertips dance down your throat and across your shoulders. You feel fragile as he toys with the strap of the lingerie and feels along the flimsy cups, circling his thumbs around your nipples as they pebble beneath the sheer silk. 

He gropes you and growls. The noise is guttural and raw. It flutters into your core and has you twitching. He pushes his knees against your cunt, moving so the friction flurries in your clit. You babble and raise your chest, hungry for his touch. 

He flicks your nipples and his hands crawl onward, down your torso, doting on the soft flesh of your stomach, and framing your hips as he draws back on his knees. He snarls and bends over you, bowing as he grips you tightly. His nails dig into your skin and you whine as you feel his hot breath against your folds. 

He nuzzles along the edges of the panties, growling as he does, squeezing your harder, then at once, buries his nose in your cunt. He wiggles his head and drags the tip of his nose up over your clit and swipes his tongue up to further set you aflame. You moan and curve your back, planting your heels as you urge him on. 

He delves into you, lapping and licking, suckling and swirling. His arm reaches up and he kneads your chest, blindly pulling the lingerie under one tis. He pinches as you cry out and he rolls your clit between his teeth. You puff out shallow breaths, swept up in the sensations. 

This is so different. Unlike he’s ever been before. He’s almost feral in how he touches you, how he feels you, how it seems he wants to consume you. There’s something else different, something strange you can’t place.  

Did he shave? You can’t tell, It must be the wine. His cheeks feel bare against your thighs and yet you swear you feel that scratchy tickle against your cunt. You don’t think about it; it’s all too much to focus. 

You squeal as you cum, spasming into his face as he drinks up your orgasm. You’re heaving and hollow as he doesn’t let up. He laps at you until you’re begging him to stop. Until you’re quaking, nearly sobbing in overwrought pleasure. Until you have a second, a third, and a fourth. 

Your slickness smears over his face and across your thighs. As he parts, his breath is humid, and you can smell the sweet scent of your release. You shiver as he raises himself up and the bed jostles. He snarls and slaps your thighs, squeezing until you whimper. 

He shifts and slides a hand under your leg. He flips you onto your stomach so your arms twist and your face is buried in the pillow. You pant into the linen as he smacks your ass with both hands and growls as he fondles you. You murmur as his touch sends tendrils down your legs and up your back. 

He grips your hips once more and raises your ass. Oh my god. It’s only a few times you’ve done it like this, often Andy prefers you on your back. He says he likes to see you.  

He pulls you back against him, his length resting between your cheeks as he bends over you. He inhales the scent of your hair and snarls against your crown. He reaches down to feel between your legs, spreading your swollen cunt as he angles his hips. 

His tip slips down and he uses his fingertips to guide it to your entrance. You’re so wet he slips right in. He sounds just as surprised as he gasps. He sinks into your limit and you whine. He retracts his arm, hooking it around your neck, and thrusts. 

You squeal as he buries himself even deeper. He does it again; harder. It hurts. You croak and press your chin down into his arm. You feel a ripple of fear. His chest feels... bare. Andy has that trim of fur that you like to play with. Maybe he got rid of it? For the roleplay? 

He snaps his hips again, staying deep before slowly rearing back. He pauses, then bucks again. The impact of his pelvis on your ass is painful and he’s hitting your cervix. 

“Ow, Andy--” 

“Quiet,” he grits in a deep sneer and brings his other hand up to smother your mouth. 

He leans his weight on you, your neck and shoulders aching from the angle of your spine. He dips into you again, again, again. Each pause between grows shorter as he tilts into a full rut. The entire bed shakes with his motion. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and curl your fingers into your palms, the cuffs slowing your circulation. You huff into his hand as he continues his rampant fucking, skin slapping, bones aching. Harder, deeper, faster, until you’re delirious. 

“What’s your husband going to think when he comes home to his wife being fucked like a slut?” He rasps and nibbles your ear, “huh? How’s he gonna compare to this, baby? Your husband can’t fuck like me can he?”  

He taunts and you cringe. You don’t like it anymore. It’s not fun. You don’t want him to be this man. To be this rough and rude. You want him to be Andy. You try to say his name again but only taste the salt of his palm. 

“Keep your mouth shut, slut,” he sinks into his limit and stays there, his voice echoing in your head. His tone is just... off. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[lovelykil]

Hi! Love you so much can you do killua x fem reader one shot where reader is wearing a fitted shirt and killuas lowkey distracted🙈 (bros like 😧) LMAO TYSM

distracted─

: ➛ killua x reader older ver.

cw; boobs (drools)

note; giggles

in a frustrated panic, you search all over your room for a specific shirt, throwing shirts in the air, all onto your bed and all over the floor. You pull out your phone then set it back in your pocket, sighing with a hint of annoyance.

You had about half an hour, but if you didn't find this stupid shirt now you would be here all day. After awhile of endlessly looking you sulk in a corner, rubbing your face.

"oh my gosh where the hell is my shirt.." You whined, sitting up. It was at this time you heard a knock on your door and then a familiar face coming through it.

"y/n are you ready? I'm leaving in 10." Your ride, kurapika, spoke softly but as well coming off strictly as he was adamant about time. You made eye contact with the blonde, your pupils burning into his. You were very much not ready.

he looked away uncomfortably, clearing his throat with a chin scratch.

"right.. just tell me when you're ready." He closed your door shortly after. You heard the door click and you groan into your hands, shaking your head.

"I'm going to kill myself I swear." You set your hands down, to look once more amongst the piles of clothing. You scanned the pile slowly, eliminating the shirts one by one checking to make sure you didn't just accidentally miss the fabric.

And to your surprise you found it, barely missed it too. It was hidden away from a shirt that had a resemblance to the specific shirt except that shirt was a different color so of course you dismissed it. You never been so happy, lunging forward to retrieve the shirt with a squeal.

You spent no time stripping your current shirt to put on the destined clothing you picked out for the hangout.

"hey idiot kurapika said to hurry─"

"huh?" You turned to see a stunned killua at your doorway. The shirt you wore hugged your curves, outlining every inch of your torso, you could see his blue eyes largen at the sight of you. You turned back to your body mirror to fix your shirt, "oh its just you kil."

"who'd you expect?" he leaned against the frame with his arms crossed, watching you carefully. You smile with a scoff, "sassy much?" he didnt say anything but a blush found its way on his pale face, turning away. He rolls his eyes "whatever" he left your room shortly after, his face a mess.

You wondered for a second, but the thought left your mind, kurapika was waiting for you so you needed to hurry the hell up. You grabbed your bag of necessities, throwing it over your shoulder, showered yourself in your favorite perfume and finally ran out of your room. Gon waved to you as he saw you exit your room, he was eating a bowl of ramen and had noodles dangling from his mouth making you snicker.

kil on the other hand was still in a daze, distracted by you. He was so conflicted right now. He reached for an apple to bitterly bite into. You approached the albino after saying bye to his best friend "I'm leaving now'" you smile up at him. He gazed down at you from his height, wanting to come off as unphased as possible but he couldn't help but stare at your chest area, he chokes on his apple.

"oh shit, killua are you oka-"

"YES, I'm.. FINE" he shouts, his face fuming.

you tuck your arms beneath your breasts with a frown. "don't need to yell, asshole." The hunter was now a tomato, why would you do such a gesture, tucking your arms to make your.. mounds more visible to him?! He knew you didn't do it on purpose but.. fuck

they looked so soft, like marshmallows he wanted so badly to lay his head on them and just close his eyes as you held him near.

the thought of that made him feel like leorio, he mentally face palmed. god stop thinking such things, you creep.

"well bye!"

"wait huh─" you pecked his cheek before walking toward the front door, killua turned quickly and shouted in a rush.

"wait where are you even going??"

"to hang out with friends?"

"HUHH, IN THAT??"

[aikuse]

-> “it’s getting crowded. here, hold my hand.” (x) | 530 words. gn!reader, kakucho has social anxiety and smokes weed. calls reader “gorgeous”.

author's notes: just a lil' something for my baby <3

Kakucho was not one for crowds.

He never has been; he’d rather be at home, smoking a fat blunt and watching whatever stupid shit Netflix recommended to him. Even if he wanted to listen to music with others, having a hangout at home would greatly help his social anxiety and awkwardness; that way, he’s in his element and not where he is now.

Squashed between several people, searching the crowd for you.

It was a concert you’d been begging him to go to; and lucky for you, you were always his exception. He’d even made sure to buy earplugs and dress for the occasion; an outfit to match your own, all black with glowsticks around his neck and black light pant along his arms.

He can feel his throat closing up as his search for you turns up empty. There’s a ringing in his ears, and he can tell people are starting to stare at him. They always do, he can feel the burning gazes whenever he steps outside thanks to the ugly scar arching across his face, but this time he ignores it. The panic rising in his chest is something he needs to focus on more than his presentation to the public.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, his eyes land on you at the bar, looking equally as terrified as he does. There’s people with you, although no one you seem to know given you’re standing on your tiptoes to look for him. He cuts through the crowd like a shark that’s smelled the faint blood of his prey.

Except it’s you, and he smells your perfume. It’s citrus, something lemon-y as he grows closer, before finally pushing out of the crowd and stumbling into your line of sight.

The relief that floods your face as you see him instantly calms him. “Kaku!” you yell over the music, “Oh my God, I thought I’d lost you! I told you I was just going to the bar—“

He cuts you off with a firm grip on your arm, and you suck in a breath at his motion. You know he’s not good with crowds, and it almost feels like a betrayal that you’ve brought him out. You go to say something else, but he shakes his head, giving you a grin instead, the relief flooding his veins relaxing his grip on you.

“‘S okay, gorgeous,” you hear him say, bending down to your ear, “jus’ take me with ya next time, alright?”

You nod aggressively, before offering your drink to him. He takes a sip, and just as he hands the drink back to you, the music dies down and the main artist’s light show starts. You squeal, about to dart off your seat, but he grabs your hand quickly, tugging on it and intertwining your fingers. You look back at him with a pout, and then in surprise as he begins to carve his way through the crowd, your drink in one hand and your hand in his other.

“It’s getting crowded in here,” you hear him say gruffly as he squeezes your fingers, “hold my hand, ‘kay?”

You don’t let go for the entire night.

divider credit: @/cafekitsune

networks: @interstellar-inn @themovingcastlez

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

[rainforest-daisies]

Day 27|Sex pollen

Character: James Potter x afab!reader

Tags: sex pollen, PIV, you and james being dumbasses

A/n: it is TOO DAMN LATE in the night to be writing this shit

Kinktober masterlist

To put it lightly, you were shit at potions class.

Every exam would be barely passed, if even passed at all. Yet, you were always paired up with the second worst person in potions class, James Potter.

With a project due soon, a project you had barely worked on, it left you cramming notes and rushing with the magic and chemicals being mixed into the cauldron.

The quickly-filling cauldron sitting on your desk let out a puff of pink smoke, just enough to gently haze the area around it, yet still thick enough to make you back away. The liquid in the cauldron began to gently boil, before simmering itself out. You had never made a potion like that in class, let alone seen anything like it. It was strange, concerning, and incredibly interesting.

Quickly, a strong scent wafted through James's sinuses as he moved his head from the smoke, almost causing him to cough, “What perfume are you wearing?” With a shrug of your shoulders, you replied, “Just my usual. Why?” His shaking head answered the question, wondering if it could have been the project that previously puffed a suspicious spout of smoke.

Your mouth kept shut as your body felt like it was on fire, droplets of sweat slowly forming on your skin as you excused yourself, planning on catching a breath in the bathroom, but your legs seemed to turn to jelly as you barely stood up. You fell back against the chair, holding onto James's bicep for support, which made his entire body stiffen against your touch.

James Potter had fancied you since his 3rd year, constantly eyeing you, even talking the potions teacher into pairing you both up, which ended badly in this case, dangerous chemicals in their lungs that were causing blood to rush under his undergarments. He could soon feel everything that touched him, every piece of fabric, every hair on his head, every seam in his trousers that rubbed against his hardening cock every time he moved. His heart was palpitating, erotic thoughts filling his mind, helping the extremely sensitive dick stuffed in his pants.

Your head turned to his, worried he was having the same symptoms as you, eyes widening as you saw his bulge from under the black trousers, lip between his teeth as he read over his class notes, ignorant of your heavy staring.

It seemed as though the air in the room got thicker, almost harder to breathe, like you needed something to breathe. Your body was telling you to pounce on him, heart racing with anticipation as your head told you no. Yet, soon, his face turns towards yours. Your cheeks heat up, looking away before he pulls you back to meet his eyes, and leans in.

Soon, his hand meets the back of your thigh, lifting your leg over his, straddling his hips, causing a moan to leave his lips. It was exaggerated, the sensitivity this potion had caused made his cheeks go red, already thrusting against your clothed cunt with gentle pants from his parted lips. The additions of the potion's effects still hadn't ended, and you felt the need to be filled by someone, and James happened to be that someone, simply because he was right under you.

——

“This isn't just a one-time thing, right?” His inner dialogue was praying, looking straight into your eyes, searching for any disappointment in them, he found none. His thrusts didn't stop, moans leaving your lips, rendering you unable to get words out, only stutters and mumbles of the sentences in your head.

“Please tell me I can fuck you again.”

[mojogojocasahouse]

Thirty Centimeters

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Summary: You and Satoru Gojo sneak around the halls of Jujutsu High like students despite the fact that you’re teachers. One day, he comes into your classroom after hours in search of detention after almost spilling the secret.

Word Count: 3.1k

Rating: E

Content: secret relationship, public sex but its still a secret, oral sex both receiving, vaginal sex, some sub!Gojo, Gojo gets gratuitously spanked with a ruler, double vaginal penetration, squirting, multiple orgasms

“This meeting is in ten minutes,” you scolded into an unruly mop of white hair, “We’ll be late.”

“So what?” he groaned against the thin skin of your throat, his long, dexterous fingers tugging at the buttons of your uniform top, a knee slipping between your legs.

“I’m not you, Satoru. I can’t get away with it.”

“Guess I need to be quick then.”

All it took was one grind of his thigh against your already damp panties beneath your skirt to have you giving in.

He’d found you in one of the storage rooms, claiming he followed the scent of your “decadent” perfume through the hallways until he’d come bursting into the small space loud enough to have your heart skipping a beat. You’d berated him, tossed the clipboard you’d been making your notes on straight at his head all for it go clattering to the floor before making impact. Expected.

“I can’t wait til tonight,” he’d murmured against your lips, all your anger melting away as the sweet, arid scent of him filled your nostrils. And when he kissed you it was all over, the fight called off.

“So needy, Toru.” It had come out as a whimper as his mouth trailed to taste the heat of your pulse. He’d hummed in response, and just as you’d allowed yourself to melt into his embrace the alarm on your phone had gone off; the shrill reminder of the meeting with Yaga snapping you out of the haze he’d put you in. But now you found yourself once again becoming victim.

“Just relax,” he cooed in that arrogant tone, “You’ll walk in with me and it’ll be fine.”

“You have five minutes.”

A toothy grin grazed against the bared skin of your chest, his hands turning you at the waist as he bunched your skirt up while undoing his own belt and zipper. You braced yourself for the impact on the table you’d been bent over, Satoru spitting on your hole as he spread your slit open, marveling for a moment at the way your cunt searched for him even now. You were aware it was pathetic. You’d stopped caring months ago.

No one fucked you like Satoru did. No one ever would. He was greedy yet attentive, rough but courteous, and he held nothing back.

“Get on with it,” you snapped as the head of his cock teased your entrance, “Your time is ticking.”

“As if you’ll care within the next minute or so. Please.”

He was right. And it sucked that he knew it, too.

He bottomed out in one hard thrust, your entire body jerking forward from the force as his long, thick length stretched you open. It burned, but he gave you no time to adjust, dragging out and pushing in just as hard you couldn’t help but whine in bliss. Coherency was fading, the wood of the table cool against your searing skin, his palm swallowing your shoulder whole as he held you in place. Every movement was pinpointed to hit that soft spot only he could reach, your body seizing up before his hand moved to clamp over your mouth, muffling your scream as he brought you to ecstasy.

“My turn,” he chimed as you collapsed completely, chest heaving beneath your weight as you gasped for air.

But before you could regain full consciousness, you found yourself on the floor, Satoru pushing you with his leg behind a shelf place conveniently in the middle of the room.

“Principal Yaga!” he greeted, entirely composed as if he hadn’t just been balls deep in you, “Was just on my way over! Thought I’d check out what was in this closet, Megumi said Itadori hid one of Maki’s cursed tools in here. Can’t have those on the loose, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” the gruff response of your boss barked as Satoru’s hand gripped you behind the head, guiding you mouth to his leaking cock flushed purple after the untimely interruption.

He couldn’t be serious? Your pursed lips pressed to the tip, your scent heavy on him as he tapped under your chin, continuing to argue with Yaga about Maki being out on a mission and all the tools being under strict lock and key, so whatever ones were out in Itadori’s possession were entirely Gojo’s problem. You gave him what he wanted, staring daggers at that black blindfold as you took his entire length into your mouth, hoping his breath would at least hitch, but ideally make him stutter.

“Okay, well, talk soon! I’m just gonna do one more sweep and be on my way,” Satoru said coolly, moving his hips to gently fuck your face as he propped his head up on his free hand, his face not even changing expressions. That fucking bastard.

“So you won’t be late then, since you’re already so close to the office,” Yaga pressed; why wouldn’t this guy just fucking leave?

“I wouldn’t dream of being late to a meeting with you. You always have the most important things to say. Just…close the door behind you.”

With an angry grunt, Yaga left, the door clicking closed Satoru’s cue to pick up his pace. With both his hands guiding your head now he battered into your throat hard enough you’d be hoarse when addressing your superior within the next five minutes, and the smirk on his face told you that was his goal. Drool dripped down your chin onto your skirt and you thanked whoever had been in charge of uniforms for selecting a dark color, your throat glucking as you held back your gag reflex just long enough, the familiar, salty tang of Satoru hitting your tongue moments later. He was at least kind enough to spare the mess of that, ensuring you’d adequately lapped every last drop from him before leaning down to get a quick taste with an open-mouthed kiss.

“All right!” he exclaimed completely unbothered by all that had transpired, “Let’s go see what he wants this time. I started practicing my ‘No’s on the way over.”

“You’re such an ass,” you growled, pushing past him as you buttoned your top up, not even waiting for him to follow as you made your way down the hall.

You had gotten yelled at. Despite both you and Satoru walking in at the same time, Yaga had noted that he expected it of Satoru, but had thought more highly of you. Your shoulders slumped as you took a seat across from the principal, and although his eyes were completely covered, you could feel Satoru’s sympathetic gaze on you. So the pompous prick could feel pity.

In an attempt at penance to yourself, you’d taken to scrubbing your classroom after Yaga had explained the details of the next Exchange Event, the students stopping by to bid farewell on their way out. The sun had begun to dip below the dense trees shrouding Jujutsu High from curious eyes, the orange glow warming up the small space as it filtered in through the windows. You were engrossed in your task, humming a song to yourself as you organized the various knick-knacks on your desk, but when a warm pair of long, thin arms circled your waist, it didn’t catch you off guard.

“I got you in trouble,” Satoru crooned, his breath hitting the shell of your ear enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you confirmed, “You did.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Because you got me in trouble?”

“Well, after being so naughty I thought maybe I deserved detention.”

With that, you melted back into him, sliding up the sleeves of his uniform to run your fingers along his forearms, his head tucking further over you as his lips pressed to your cheek. There was nothing easy about being in any form of relationship with Satoru Gojo, but it was never boring. There was always that.

“Detention, huh?” you purred, shifting to reciprocate a gentle kiss to his cloth-covered temple before turning, his arms moving to cage you in as you leaned back against the edge of your desk, your fingers lifting to trace along his brow, “Can I take this off?”

“Mmhmm.”

There was little more satisfying than watching Satoru’s piercing blue eyes that held the galaxies themselves come into view, his snow-white hair flopping down onto his forehead. You smiled every time his full face was bared, your adoration for him always pulling one up onto his face as well, though you never understood why. It wasn’t like women fawning over him was a rarity, even with the blindfold on. You always tried not to read into it.

His lips tasted like the soda he always got from the vending machines as he saw the students off to their dorms for the night, his tongue equally as sweet as it met yours for an evening waltz. Hands pulled at buttons and zippers until you were both left bare to the setting sun’s light, your lips kiss drunk and craving more.

As you moved to mark his pale skin with purple stars he’d wear with pride beneath the high collar of his jacket, your fingers wrapped around the thin tool you’d just set into your top drawer, pulling away from him with your lower lip pulled between your bottom teeth.

“Oh,” he chuckled, eyes widening with glee.

With a push of the thirty-centimeter ruler to the top of his head, you sent him to his knees, sitting up on the wood behind you and spreading your legs wide to reveal your glistening folds to his eager gaze. Without needing words, he understood, his palm pushing down on your stomach as his tongue collected what had already begun to accumulate. His movements wove from your opening to your clit, latching onto the little bundle of nerves he’d neglected in your earlier rendezvous. He swirled and lapped, two fingers massaging your inner walls as your back arched off the desk, your grip locked in his hair as he brought you closer and closer to the edge with every swipe and flick.

“Fuck…” you gasped, slinging your legs over his shoulders as your inner thighs began to ache, “just like that.”

His hum in response sent a shockwave up your spine, a throaty groan filling the air as he pulled your swollen nub into his lips and suckled hard, repeating the pattern until you were crying out and then soothing your sensitive skin with gentle licks. It was frustrating how he slowed and then sped up, he was borderline edging you, and it took you a few moments of angry mumbling for you to remember you were in charge this time.

Pushing his head along with you, you stood, his flexibility becoming useful as you bent him backwards to keep his mouth locked on your heat while you towered over him. He was smiling wickedly as you wrenched his head where you needed him, grinding your hips over his mouth and tongue greedily.

“You’re always such a fucking brat,” you sighed, his sharp nose catching you just right.

Pride sent the corners of his lips up into his crystal eyes as yours rolled to the back of your head, his face smeared with your release as the coil that had been building since sucking him off in the presence of Yaga finally snapped.

“Stand up,” you directed, trying to maintain control in front of the man that searched for any opening to gain the upper hand, “Hands on the desk.”

He gasped exuberantly, “Are you gonna smack me with that ruler? Please say yes. Please. Please.”

The fact he was looking forward to it took some of the joy out, but when he theatrically bent over your desk, his balls hanging full and heavy between his thighs as he awaited impact, it didn't matter how bad he wanted it. You wanted it more. And you didn’t hold back. The thin wooden slat slapped against his alabaster skin, the whimper that left his lips so depraved it sent arousal rushing between your thighs. It was then you realized, Satoru Gojo was only hit when he wanted to be hit. It wasn’t like when you or any of the others went out to fight curses and took a beating, he had a constant barrier, one that he’d let down to allow you to leave bruises and welts with the shitty little ruler you’d pulled out of your drawer.

Credit given where it was due.

Winding up, you slapped him again, the bright red line adorning his ass and the way his knuckles gripped the edge of the surface he was laid up on two of the prettiest things you’d ever seen.

“How many do you deserve?” you asked, out of breath and dazed, your palm soothing his stinging skin.

“Twenty,” he answered quickly, “Thirty. Til your arm falls off.”

Welted speckles began to emerge after the seventh whack, his body in a sweaty heap and dick leaking onto the floor. He looked pitiful, the strongest sorcerer in the world nothing but putty in your hands. He’d do anything you asked.

“Can you take more?” you asked, yanking his head up by his soaked strands, your breasts pressing into the damp skin of his back, “Or have you had enough?”

“Define enough,” he teased, flashing that cocky smile.

“You’re bruising.”

“And?”

You were entirely overcome with admiration, dropping the school supply-turned-weapon in your hand to cup his flushed face and kiss him, pouring your appreciation for him into your affections. He could sense the game was over, rolling and sliding up so he laid beneath you, his hands able to explore the stretch of your back and caress the heated skin of your cheek. It was gentler now, the urgency entirely gone, the world washing away as you relished in his touch, the way his hair stuck to his forehead and your own, the trust that had built between you, and the calm that washed over you when he wrapped you tightly in his arms.

“Can I fuck you now?” you exhaled against his mouth, pressing your aching core down onto his painfully hard, neglected length.

“I thought I was supposed to be being punished,” he replied, the books teetering on the corner of the desk crashing to the floor as he pushed himself up further to grant you more leverage, “Not fucking me would achieve that better.”

Shutting him up with another sloppy kiss, your cunt sucked him in greedily, his large hands resting on your thighs as you sat back, putting you on full glorious display for his eyes that could see all but somehow always looked for more. After your quick meeting earlier you wanted to enjoy this, to appreciate the way he stretched you almost to the point of pain and how with the simplest adjustment he was once again hitting a bullseye to that spongy patch deep inside of you that already had you seeing stars. As you rocked over him, the slap of your ass meeting his thighs was almost as lewd as the sound of your soaked channel welcoming him again and again, he leaned up, locking his lips over one of your swaying breasts and sucking hard, his teeth grazing over your nipple before he lapped the sting away.

“Toru,” you moaned when his middle finger slid between your ass cheeks and pressed against your tight hole, the sound of his name all the permission he needed.

You shrieked when his finger joined his cock in your pussy, wiggling enough to have you buckling over onto his chest as you felt yourself stretching beyond any level you had before.

“That feel good?” he asked, his voice husky in your ear, “I can feel you getting wetter.”

“Mmmm,” you hummed, "Want more."

“Oh…aren’t you adventurous today?”

A shaky exhale had the wisps of hair by his ear swaying as he stuffed his ring finger into your hole, your brain focusing on breathing as he scissored his digits deep inside you, pushing the limits of just how much you could take.

“That’s it,” he cooed gently, rubbing his other hand up and down your spine soothingly, “Just relax.”

“I can’t,” you quavered, your channel seizing up around him.

“You can. You’re about to. Let it happen. Be fucking greedy…”

His thumb pressed to your clit as he spoke, and that was all it took. Hot, clear liquid sprayed onto his hand and thighs, white flashing behind your eyes as every nerve in your body whirred to life for a finally rev before shutting down, sending you limp and boneless down against his chest. He was still as the waves coursing through you calmed to gentle laps, the storm passed and the familiar scent of him welcoming you back to reality from where he’d sent you ricocheting into the clouds.

“May I finish?” he asked in his arrogant tone, pulling his fingers out of your cunt and slipping them between his lips as he awaited your response.

“It kinda hurts…” It was honest, but you were embarrassed nonetheless, every inch of you sensitive and overstimulated.

“Finally. A punishment that fits the crime.”

Slowly, he pulled himself free and you couldn’t stop the hiss through your teeth as he dragged over your walls, his soothing hushes as he repositioned you in his embrace enough to anchor to. Your arms were locked around his neck, face buried beneath his chin, and he rocked you side to side, kissing your hair and forehead still sticky with sweat.

“Why don’t we go to my place in the city?” he offered, “Use that nice bathtub you love.”

“That sounds nice,” you answered, pressing your lips to the sharp angle of his jaw.

After helping you get dressed and cleansing the various fluids soaking your previously clean classroom, his fingers laced with yours as he led you through the halls to where his familiar black car was parked. The metal was cool when he pressed you back against the passenger door, grabbing your face gently and kissing you like it was the first chance he’d gotten all day, tongue sliding over the seam of your mouth begging for entrance, your hands fisting in the white button down he wore beneath his jacket…

“I saw nothing,” a deep, level voice called from beside you, your eyes shooting over to see Kento Nanami standing with his gaze averted from where Satoru was currently grabbing a handful of your ass. “Leave me out of it.”

“You knew he was there, six eyes!” you scolded, slapping Satoru on the chest as he backed away laughing hysterically to himself, nodding shamelessly.

“I’m serious,” Nanami repeated, “Leave me out of it.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[magicshopaholic]

Fever Dream (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dressed in vintage Chanel, your and Taehyung's messy past comes back to haunt you.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC (feat. Jungkook)

Genre: Some fluff, angst

Word count: 9.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, if that

A/N: Here is the next installment of unedited fic series. Takes place a little over a month after A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "free fallin'" by john mayer

taehyung masterlist| main masterlist

Dilara [11:40] Hey babe. Reached?

Tae [11:40] Just about. Wow, it’s been really long since I’ve been to one of these. Forgot how chaotic it is.

Dilara [11:41] Tell me about it. Everyone’s impossibly good-looking.

Tae [11:42] Really? Did you just walk by a mirror or something?

Dilara [11:42] Save some of that charm for tonight, pretty boy.

Tae [11:43] See you in a few, pretty girl.

Dilara slips into the ladies’ room facing the mirror over the basins and exhaling. The flight and drive were long enough, but she seems to be the only person showing signs of it. It helps to have Taehyung nearby, though, even if actual time together seems limited.

She needs to be back out there, though, letting the crew know and get started on whatever PR they have planned. Fluffing out her curly hair and noting how the curls seem to have set nicely for once, she rummages in her bag for a last minute spritz of perfume and swipe of lipstick.

As she searches, one of the stalls behind her opens and she hears the sound of another sigh. It’s gratifying, she reflects, to not be the only one feeling overwhelmed. 

“It’s quite a crowd outside.”

Dilara chuckles, finally locating the tiny travel-size bottle of Zara’s Nude Bouquet and taking off the cap. “Tell me about it,” she mutters, straightening up and spraying it on her neck and the inside of her wrists. “Felt like I needed to escape.”

The other girl laughs lightly, and Dilara glances at her in the mirror. Her long black hair falls down her shoulders but she looks familiar - Dilara immediately thinks of Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend and the image sticks.

“I get that,” she agrees, and her voice is soft, almost musical. “Wow, that’s a nice scent. Where is it from?”

“Oh, it’s Zara.” Without thinking anything of it, Dilara offers it to her. “Want to try?”

The girl straightens up as well and turns to her - it’s not Charles’s girlfriend - and gasps mildly. “It’s such a coincidence - I think I packed my cosmetics in the wrong bag and they all reached my hotel. You really don’t mind?”

Dilara shakes her head wordlessly. Impossibly good-looking. But she can’t look away.

Jennie smiles gratefully and takes the slim bottle, spraying it in the same spots Dilara did and returning it. “Thank you. It’s been a long flight.”

“And a long drive from the airport.”

“I know.” She pauses. “You look kind of familiar, by the way. I’m picturing a Polaroid… I feel like we’ve met?”

“Oh, uh…” Dilara shakes her head, turning back to this basin to wash her hands, barely able to feel the cool water. “No. We haven’t.”

“Oh. I’m Jennie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Dilara.”

“That’s a pretty name. Where is it -” A phone ringing interrupts her and she winces, apologetically checking her phone. “Sorry, I have to go. Maybe I’ll see you later tonight.”

Dilara forces half a smile. “Maybe.” 

Jennie gives her a small wave and leaves. For a moment, nothing happens. Dilara fluffs out her hair and checks her phone out of habit before frowning, realising she can’t remember if she washed her hands. The water feels cooler now and she squeezes out some of the floral-smelling lotion next to soap, rubbing it over her hands.

It’s time to head out. The impossibly good-looking people aren’t going anywhere and Dilara is technically working. As she reaches the door, her phone buzzes.

Tae [11:50] Can you tell me where you are? I need to talk to you.

—

It seems likely to be a huge event. The marquee spans what looks like half an acre at least, under which two dozen tables with designer chairs and sparkly, minimalist place settings are spread out. Flex boards are strategically placed with who are probably the most famous Korean celebrities in attendance, the low stage is a shiny black and the few non-Korean guests stick out, although not in an unpleasant way. The guest list and event decor is no surprise - it is a Samsung event after all.

Dilara spots Taehyung walking past a camera with Jimin, only the latter waving. He looks… distracted, despite the smooth and impassive expression. They stop under the shade where he takes off his sunglasses, frowning slightly in the afternoon sun. Her gaze falls lower, to the band of his trousers to his hand in his pockets, and the shape tells her they are balled into fists.

Dodging one of the impossibly good-looking people, this one a vaguely familiar person - probably an actress - Dilara stops some ways away from Taehyung and Jimin, directly opposite them. It won’t take long now, for his eyes are darting around anyway, until they find hers and his forehead clears. 

Dilara holds his gaze for a moment before turning around and beginning to walk. She isn’t exactly sure where to; most of the signs are written in Korean with the English translations in smaller font. 

But she continues without stopping, her pace mild and stance casual, her arms folded across her chest. Somewhere along the way, her peripheral vision catches Taehyung on the opposite side of the path, one hand still in his pocket as he saunters with grace.

They turn together, coincidentally, down a path to a huge trailer. The gigantic Big Hit logo, combined with the confidence with which Taehyung strides in, tells her exactly whose it is. Few staff members scatter as he pushes open the door and stands aside to let her in, not speaking until it’s closed and they’re alone.

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak but pauses, as though changing tacks at the last second. “Hi,” he says, a hint of a smile spreading across his features.

It’s been three weeks since they’ve seen each other, she recalls only now. “Hey,” she replies, although it comes across as a bit of a sigh.

He steps towards her, a bit hesitant, before placing one arm around her waist and gently bringing her to him and hugging her. He kisses her on the cheek. “Missed you,” he whispers, his lips on her hair.

Dilara’s hands go around him automatically, but it’s hard to focus. Or there’s too much focus - she can’t tell. It takes her a moment, but she nods into his shoulder, closing her eyes and trying to enjoy the first whiffs of his Sauvage, always the best ones.

“Missed you, too,” she murmurs. Her hands tighten around his t-shirt, momentarily clutching them tight before she forces herself to step away.

Taehyung touches her cheek, allowing himself another fond gesture before dropping his hand to his side. He glances at the floor and for a brief fraction of a second, a pit of fury takes form in her stomach. 

It disappears almost instantly, though. Taehyung swallows and looks up. “Look, I have to tell you something. When we reached and got out of the car, there was a short briefing and one of the producers mentioned that -“

“Jennie is here.”

Taehyung’s face goes slack. “Wait, you knew? How? Did Calvin Klein tell you or was it like a - how do you say it? A memo?”

“Calvin Klein is not going to send anyone a memo of Jennie’s travel plans. No, I - I ran into her in the ladies’ room,” she answers. He doesn’t respond immediately and Dilara bites her lip; she feels like she should say more.

“You… ran into her?” Taehyung’s voice is almost hushed. “Like, you saw her or -“

“I stood next to her. We talked about how long our flights were and then she borrowed my perfume.”

Dilara can’t blame Taehyung for looking slightly incredulous. It sounds like a fever dream when she says it out loud. Wildly, it occurs to her that for the next few hours at least, she and Jennie Kim will smell the same.

Evidently, he decides not to probe. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“Mhm.”

“Because… I swear, I had no idea she would be here.”

“I know.”

“If I did, I would’ve told you as soon as I -“

“I know. I believe you.”

His eyes flicker and the relief is unmissable. “Good,” he murmurs. 

Dilara looks away, anywhere; the look in his eyes, of anxiety, worry, guilt - it’s a rabbit hole she doesn’t want to go down right now. There’s no place in her mind right now, or in her heart, for anything more than the effort to not make this a big deal. 

“I should go,” she says after a moment. “I need to meet my team and then they have me selecting a dress or something for tonight.” She moves to leave.

His response is immediate. “Lara, are you -”

“I am,” she interrupts, not turning around but stopping in her tracks. “Look, it’s…” It’s weird. It feels like the understatement of the year, or it should be, but she truthfully can’t think of what else it is. “It’s fine,” she says finally, looking back at him briefly. He looks concerned and it’s not what she wants to see. “You’re… all in the same industry. And we’ve moved on.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “Okay. Will, uh… will we see each other before the event?”

Dilara shrugs. “Depends. You’ll probably have to get ready here,” she guesses, and his shoulders falling tell her she’s correct. “Tonight. Later.” Before he can respond, she leaves.

—

Jungkook [13:30] Okay wait. What about these? [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture]

Dilara [13:31] Um I dunno. The second looks fine.

Jungkook [13:31] Really? It’s not too extra?

Dilara [13:32] Facial piercings are the definition of extra.

Jungkook [13:32] Well that’s why I want a subtle eyebrow piercing. It can’t just be about the tattoos all the time.

Dilara [13:33] Fine, so second.

Jungkook [13:34] Reallyyyyy? I kinda liked the third.

Dilara [13:34] Then go with the third. It’s your face, not mine. Well, yours and Big Hit’s. Are they really okay with their chocolate boy going emo punk right after tour?

Jungkook [13:35] Fuck them. It’s my choice. So third? Actually what do you think about the fourth? With the sapphire stud?

Dilara sighs and lowers her phone. Jungkook’s indecisiveness, while sometimes endearing, is not something she can appreciate right now. It had taken all her will and ability to compartmentalise to get through her video segment a little while ago: Off Track: Get Ready with Dilara Komyshan! 

She still has hours to get ready; the filming made no sense. Neither does the layout of the ground, in her opinion, for there are people arriving from three different entry points. It seems stupid and not very well thought out at all, and Dilara just knows it will cause confusion once the event actually begins.

Taking a sip of the canned grapefruit drink she’d picked up from one of the tables, she winces. It’s sugary sweet and, she suspects, not even real fruit. But there were no other options and she was thirsty. Looking around to check if the coast is clear, she tosses it into a nearby bin. Her phone buzzes again and she closes her eyes. 

Damn it, Jungkook. Just get the damn piercing.

Jungkook [13:38] Still there? I was thinking, maybe you were right about the second. Oxidised silver is kind of classic and really makes the whole thing stand out. What do you think?

Dilara [13:40] You know, I really don’t think I’m the best person to advise you here. When I was in school, I had a thing for guys with lip piercings, so what do I know?

Just as she navigates away from WhatsApp, she hears a rustle and whips around.

“Sorry!” A young man, carrying a laptop, two clipboards and a cup of coffee stumbles into her little alcove away from the main event. He says something else in Korean before looking up and noticing her, and his eyes flash in recognition. “Dilara Komyshan!” he blurts out, his face slightly red.

“Uh, yes -” She darts forward to catch his cup as it slips out of his hand, no doubt saving it from spilling all over his clean white trousers.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathes, panting slightly. “It’s been a crazy day and I’ve fucked up - oh, God, I think I’m going to get fired today!” He dumps his belongings onto a table between them and shakes his head, apparently inviting himself to her solitary rendezvous.

If Dilara had to guess, he sounds Canadian. Not knowing if she’s meant to respond, she nods in what she hopes is a sympathetic way, hoping he’s busy enough to leave soon. To her surprise, he leans back against a tree on the other side of the table and fishes around in his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes.

Dilara’s fingers twitch unexpectedly. “Mind if I bump one?”

He raises his eyebrows. “You smoke?”

Shit. “It’s been a crazy day for me, too,” she confesses. “Maybe we can keep each other’s fuck-ups between us?”

He half-chuckles and offers the pack to her. “Dan,” he says, handing her a lighter as well.

“Dilara.” She lights her cig and takes a drag, returning the lighter. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The nicotine feels a bit stifling on a sunny afternoon, but there’s something mildly comforting about it, too. The only downside of it, she realises, is that it’s opened the door for this Dan individual to take her quip to heart and begin baring his soul to her.

“It’s ridiculous, honestly,” he vents passionately, “because they really shouldn’t give access to things to one person, you know? Not when that person doesn’t understand responsibility or - or commitment to a team, and quits a week before an event. Who does that? Right? I mean - you of all people would understand,” he declares, pointing to her suddenly. “You’re in Red Bull - wouldn’t you commit to your team until the very end?”

Dilara stares, unsure how she’s expected to answer, for Christian Horner would probably tear up her contract and eat the pieces if Max Verstappen demanded it.

“I - sure. Yeah.”

“Exactly.” He shakes his head, his face still red. “It’s just really overwhelming. There’s a lot to do and we’re one guy short and… God, I don’t even want to get into what happened earlier today.” 

He pauses, as though waiting for her to ask. Dilara, looking straight ahead, doesn’t take the bait, silently taking another drag. Next to her, Dan is almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, seeming more flustered than ever.

“Someone accidentally wiped out the version history of our seating chart after making changes to it - bam, it’s out there.” He says the whole thing very quickly and exhales shakily. “And it could… technically be considered my fault - and only technically - because I was the last one to use it but if you really think about it, it’s - it’s really poor planning because - I mean, Google Sheets? In this day and age? And the only person who knew it by heart and - and who was in charge of it -  quit last week. With no warning. And now we’re having to wing it, which brings me back to the whole teamwork thing, so you tell me, you know. Who is really at fault…”

Dilara presses her fingers to her temple, wishing he would leave, for this isn’t worth the clandestine cigarette. He continues venting and she tries to tune him out.

“You’re table six, though, right?” His somewhat frantic voice interrupts her thoughts.

“Uh… I’m not sure. I wasn’t told what table I’d be at,” she mutters, glancing at him to see him peering into his laptop screen. The brightness is at full blast and she can see a Google Sheet open, the first two cells labelled “이름/Name” and “테이블/Table” with numerous names written similarly in Korean and English, and all the table numbers in Arabic numerals. She recognises some names: Kim Namjoon stands out, as does Jang Wonyoung, Sydney Sweeney, Jennie Kim…

“Oh, God - it’s frozen!”

Dan hammers at the refresh button but the cursor turns into a blue circle and he makes a choking sound between a cry and a groan. At that moment, his phone rings and he visibly gulps at the screen. “I have to - I have to take this,” he stutters to no one in particular, answering it and backing away, raising a hand to Dilara in apology before disappearing.

Dilara raises her eyebrows and mimics his movement, privately glad for a moment of peace. She can’t listen to his complaints about the event any longer. It seemed like an excruciatingly boring event from the beginning and she’s already rather preoccupied, thinking of all the practice on the SIM she could have squeezed in this weekend if it weren’t for this stupid event.

The laptop screen is unrelentingly bright; blinking a bit, she taps the key to lower it. Frowning, she moves the mouse to see it working perfectly. Rolling her eyes, she leans to the side to look for Dan.

“Mate, your screen is responding again,” she says, but there’s no answer. In fact, she can’t even hear him anymore. 

Maybe he jumped, Taehyung would say, seriously and without expression, maintaining it even when others would chuckle.

She scrolls absently to search for his name. Cha Eunwoo, Alia Bhatt, Jeon Jungkook… she spots her own name, a brief moment of relief to see she will have at least one familiar face at her table. Then, a little while later, Kim Taehyung.

He had looked so… concerned for her today. Anxious. All the casual confidence he’d retained for the rest of the world had fallen away to reveal the moments of vulnerability he reserved for her. She can’t recall at this moment how it usually makes her feel, for today, she couldn’t turn away fast enough.

Dan returns a minute later, just as Dilara is leaving.

“Thanks for the cig,” she says, giving him a small wave.

“You’re welcome. Oh - it’s working again!” He lets out a low whistle, running his finger across the mousepad. “Thank God. Well - it was really nice to meet you. Big fan.”

“You, too. Good luck with your seating chart.”

—

It’s late afternoon when the guests begin assembling by the grounds, everyone poised to make an entrance on the “pink carpet”, a peach-coloured path curving towards the marquee. The sky is a melange of grey and pink and orange, a very light breeze giving the event the vibe of an upscale wine-tasting.

Taehyung, dressed in an off-white linen suit with his hair left loose and freshly washed so it may “go where the wind pleases” (his stylist’s words, not his), speaks into a mic as he answers the interviewer’s questions, glancing occasionally into the camera as he does.

“And will you be hoping to meet any friends here tonight?” the interviewer asks chirpily.

“Of course - I’ve already seen many people I know here, so I’m sure we’ll all have a good time tonight.” He smiles after this perfunctory, scripted answer, before giving her a nod of acknowledgement and making way for the next celebrity behind him. 

It had been the company’s idea to have them make separate entrances, given Seokjin and Yoongi were not attending, so as to not make the group look smaller. As he heads inside, waving at some of the cameras and some lucky fans who’ve managed to get access to the outer areas of the grounds, he takes the opportunity to let his eyes roam around the crowd and the guests, hoping to spot Dilara.

They haven’t seen each other since their fleeting moment earlier today. He had managed to maneuver a way out of one of their filmings to head back to the hotel, hoping they would cross paths before she had to get ready. While she had left him a short message saying she would try, evidently the timings hadn’t worked out and they’d missed each other.

At least, Taehyung hopes it was the timings. He can’t exactly blame Dilara for being a little on edge today, possibly a little distant, but the only solution he can come up with is to be with her, be there for her, maybe show her however he can that she doesn’t need to be on edge at all.

She hasn’t arrived yet, though; a little disappointed, Taehyung turns his attention to the artfully adorned tables, realising he has no idea which one to sit at.

“Check the name cards.” Jimin sidles up next to him and points at the thick cards in little tents at every seat, anywhere between six and ten at each table.

“Found mine,” says Namjoon, who’d entered a minute before Taehyung, holding up a card at a table right in the front. “Hobi’s is here, too.”

“Hang on, are we all not together?” Taehyung asks nobody in particular, frowning.

From behind him, another idol shakes his head, overhearing the question. “Nah, doesn’t look like it,” says Chan, peering at the name cards as well. “They probably don’t want to draw attention to idol groups, I guess?”

People are starting to take their seat, having to check name cards everywhere. A few people who look like they are event management have scurried over, helping guests, the whole thing becoming slightly chaotic.

Taehyung finds himself hoping that he and Dilara might be at the same table, if it’s indeed at random. He begins searching for both their names, but Jimin gets there first.

“Found Dilara,” he mouths, catching Taehyung’s eye meaningfully. “Oh, and Jungkook is at this table, too,” he adds in a regular volume.

“Anyone else?” Taehyung asks hopefully, trying not to be too disappointed when Jimin shakes his head. He counts it lucky that Dilara still has Jungkook, at least one familiar face at an event that’s mostly strangers to her.

Jungkook isn’t here yet either; he’d be recording a demo with Yoongi in the hotel room despite the latter not attending the event, and would probably reach just in time for it to start.

“Oh, wait - Jimin!” Taehyung calls, holding up a card. “Here’s yours.”

“Oh, great. Who else is here… dude, so are you!” Almost diametrically opposite the circular table, Jimin holds up a card with Taehyung’s name. “Awesome!” 

Taehyung grins and they high-five at waist-level before taking their seats, Jimin continuing to scan the other cards. “I don’t know who this is… oh, this is the actress from Snowdrop, right? I think it is… and - oh.” Jimin looks up at Taehyung, and it’s an expression Taehyung immediately takes note of.

“What?”

“Do you know who else is at this table?” he asks in a hushed voice, leaning over and glancing at the entrance surreptitiously. 

Taehyung knows before Jimin subtly turns the card towards him, with the name of a guest to be seated directly between both of them. Jennie Kim, the card reads, equally calligraphic in Hangul and English.

There’s an announcement of some kind, a muffled voice asking guests to take their seats quickly. Taehyung turns towards the entrance, his heart somewhere near his stomach and jerking uncomfortably, hoping to see Dilara and wondering if he can signal to her to meet him… his eyes dart around, a bit frantic. It takes him a moment to realise another familiar face is making its way… in his direction.

“Taehyung hyung.” Jungkook strides over and taps his shoulder, motioning for him to get up, stepping away from the table. Taehyung meets Jimin’s eyes briefly, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

“Yeah?”

Jungkook presses his tongue to his teeth. “Do you know -” He looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper, “- that your ex-girlfriend is here?”

“Yes,” he answers instantly. “And I can do you one better. Do you know where she’s -”

Jungkook interrupts him. “Does Dilara know?”

Taehyung stops abruptly. “Uh, yeah. I told her this morning. Or - I guess she already knew….” He trails off when he finally sees Dilara enter along with the last few guests, finding her table almost instantly. His shoulders relax when she catches his eye; he gives her the most subtle smile he can, knowing there are cameras around that could be capturing his any and every move. To his surprise and relief, she returns his look with a small smile. “Listen -”

“Holy shit,” whispers Jungkook, looking at something over Taehyung’s shoulder. He smiles briefly and gives a small wave before turning back to him. “She’s at your table?” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Apparently. Look, it’s a coincidence from hell, but can you do me a favour? You and Lara are the same table - can you just tell her -”

“How?”

“How - what?” Taehyung frowns, realising by now that they are one of the few people still standing. “What do you think coincidence means? I didn’t have any part in this - but can you just please tell her that I’m sorry anyway? I’ll still text her, but… please.”

Jungkook, who seems to be regretting his momentary outburst, nods wordlessly before turning around and heading over to his table, sitting only one seat away from Dilara, both of them giving each other extremely perfunctory, polite camera-ready smiles of acknowledgement.

Taehyung tries, once more, to turn around and catch Dilara’s eye but when Jimin hisses his name under his breath, he’s forced to look ahead as the host arrives on stage. There’s some applause and introductory jokes being made; it’s not a lot he can do to avoid it, not when there are cameras around or when the seating arrangement is so awesomely fucked that the moment he turns his head even slightly to his right, he meets Jennie’s eyes.

“Hi,” she says quietly, giving him a formal sort of smile. “How are you?”

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he can pretend to have not heard her. But even the thought is absurd. “I’m good,” he replies, nodding. “And you?”

She nods in response and the small talk comes to a natural end, at least for now. The event may as well be happening in French for all the focus that Taheyung devotes to it; choosing his moments, he tries to subtly turn his head to look back at Dilara’s table again. At one point, he sees her chatting with the person next to her, the captain of South Korea’s football team. It makes him feel slightly better that she has company; next to the footballer, Jungkook cranes his neck slightly towards them, as though trying to keep up with the conversation.

Somewhere during one of the musical performances, Taehyung feels his phone buzz. He opens it to see the group chat.

Namjoon [18:17] Taehyung. Cut it out.

Taehyung [18:18] What?

Namjoon [18:18] Turning around to look at Dilara. It’s very noticeable.

Taehyung [18:19] Shit. Sorry.  How can you tell, though? Your table is in front of mine.

Hoseok [18:20] Because only Namjoon has figured out a way to turn around and look at something behind him without being obvious about it.

Taehyung [18:20] Sorry. A bit on edge.

Jimin [18:20] Lol. No surprise there.

Taehyung [18:20] Shut up. Can you tell if Dilara is looking? 

Jimin [18:21] She isn’t. Jungkook is, though. Probably hasn’t checked his phone yet.

Seokjin [18:22] What is up with all the texts? I’m trying to take a nap.

Jimin [18:22] Taehyung is sitting next to Jennie while Dilara is at a different table.

Seokjin [18:22] What!

Taehyung [18:23] Not what it sounds like. Jesus. Our assigned seats are next to each other.

Hoseok [18:23] Dilara is going to kill you.

Taehyung [18:24] No, she isn’t. She’s not crazy - she knows this is out of my control.

Yoongi [18:25] Hell of a coincidence to be out of your control.

Seokjin [18:26] No kidding. This is k-drama level coincidental. Next thing you know, the camera pans to your mortal enemy slipping a wad of cash into a waiter’s hand.

Namjoon [18:27] We may be going off topic here. Taehyung - be careful, though. If anyone gets a single shot of you and Jennie sitting together, it’ll start rumours without a doubt again. And you know YG won’t deny them.

Taehyung pauses, for this hasn’t occurred to him. Not that it’s some kind of epiphany - rumours are a daily battle, almost - but today, Dilara has been his sole focus throughout. 

He meant what he said: his girlfriend is a reasonable person who, despite some expected discomfort with the situation, is not the kind of filmy exaggeration they were hinting at. But the fact that this might make its way back to social media again, a year and a half after the world has lost interest, following Dilara wherever in the world she goes… he recalls the lowest points of their relationship, looks of heartbreak and betrayal that still haunt him to this day, and his throat feels momentarily tight.

Taehyung [18:28] I will deny them. You can be sure of that.

“Camera!” 

Jennie’s voice hisses next to him, almost making him jump out of his skin. He slips his phone under his thigh in a swift movement, eyes ahead and immediately bopping his head to the music to avoid whatever rubbish headline the wrong picture could lead to: BTS V insults rookie girl group by checking phone during performance!

“Thanks,” he mutters, seeing her nod from the corner of his eye.

As the night progresses, Taehyung makes his attempts to look back at Dilara more subtle but no less frequent. He succeeds a couple of times, too, once even managing to make eye contact with her. Her expression is unreadable, though, and he begins wondering if this is truly bothering her, how much it is, and how there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm.”

It’s a break in the program, during which a few people are going back and forth to the rest rooms, getting their hair and make-up retouched and doing impromptu spot interviews. Taehyung and the rest of the group have been advised by the staff via text to not leave their seats; as he looks around, it seems as though most people are in a similar boat. 

He turns around to look at Dilara, only to see her seat vacant and - to his surprise - Jungkook staring back at him, brows furrowed. He frowns curiously but the younger member looks away in an instant. Taehyung wonders briefly if he imagined it; raising his eyebrows and shrugging it off, he unlocks his phone.

Taehyung [19:00] Hey, love. I know this night probably isn’t what you had in mind after three weeks apart. It definitely isn’t mine. I promise I’ll make this trip worth it, though. I really missed you.

Biting his lip, he sends the message. He waits for a few seconds for a reply, turning around to check the door. She eventually returns, catching his eye and giving him the same small smile she’d given him at the beginning of the event, as though they were lounging around in his apartment instead. She says something to Jungkook when the anchor begins speaking again, signalling the end of the break.

Lara [19:02] Missed you too

Taehyung stares at the message, not sure what to make out of it. He’s sensing some distance from her; it’s not unexpected and he wishes more than anything that he’d been able to talk to her, just once, before everyone had taken their seats. He turns around briefly again, hoping Jungkook relayed his message to her.

“Shit,” Jennie mutters next to him. Catching his eye momentarily, she tilts her phone under the table towards him. Taehyung’s heart sinks at the picture, taken from a distance, of the two of them watching the stage, their heads tilted in the same angle.

It’s a normal picture, with at least ten other people in the same frame including Jimin; but the incriminating red circle drawn into the picture makes it clear what the focus is. The fact that it’s already on Instagram makes his stomach roll with worry and guilt, and he hopes, desperately hopes, that it won’t affect Dilara after all this time.

“Tabloids will start their thing,” she adds, shaking her head. “The company will be so annoyed. What about Big Hit?”

“I don’t know,” he replies truthfully, after a moment. He hasn’t thought about it; Namjoon mentioned it in caution and here he was, correct as usual. Big Hit would be annoyed; a recycled rumour, micro-expressions getting dissected and heartbroken fans spamming their social media - none of these were desired during an ongoing tour.

Taehyung knows it’s a headache and if not handled properly, could escalate. It could impact concert attendance, merchandise sales, fan-meets… but these are just words right now, swimming in his head in a faint voice that sounds like their manager’s. Bigger than all that, in the forefront of his mind is only Dilara, once again forced to remember the worst period of their relationship.

“I can’t believe this seating,” he mutters. “I thought the bigger the event, the more tuned in they would be to… stuff like this.” He gives her a sideways glance.

But Jennie gives him a small shake of the head. “I doubt it’s on purpose. I heard there was some confusion with the tables anyway… their system was down or something.” 

“Feels irresponsible.” Then he sighs. “No offence.”

She half-chuckles under her breath and locks her phone. “None taken. It’s been over a year, anyway. I don’t think there’s a single person who remembers or cares about our fling anymore.”

It’s almost compulsive now; he turns around again. Dilara’s eyes are fixed on the stage, though, but he takes a moment to watch her anyway, feeling every variation of guilt and anxiety and adoration when he thinks of how her evening might be going.

“Is that Jungkook?” Jennie whispers next to him. “I should say hi later. Oh, I met the girl sitting next to - oh, shit.” She clicks her tongue softly in apparent recognition. “That’s where I know her from - she did the sportswear campaign for Calvin Klein last month. Dilara Komyshan, the race car driver,” she states. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognise her before - I must really need some sleep…”

There is something inexplicably strange about hearing Dilara’s name come out of Jennie’s mouth. He expects Dilara would find it even stranger; he bites his lip and faces the front again.

“… do you know her?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond, but evidently his silence and laser focus on the glass in front of him is enough explanation.

“Oh,” says Jennie softly, and Taehyung’s heart crumbles a little, suddenly horribly, terribly afraid that everything would be ruined again.

The performance on the stage ends and there’s applause. Taehyung claps automatically, without feeling. Next to him, Jennie turns her head slightly towards him.

“I only met her for a minute… but she seems really sweet. And very pretty.” She gives him a small smile. “Lucky guy.”

—

When the event ends and the anchor announces the dinner being hosted in the hotel restaurant, everyone begins heading out of the marquee and back down the carpet. There are some quick interviews and pictures, mostly of celebrities ducking into cars and leaving. Taehyung hopes he can skip the dinner - or at least make an appearance, have half a drink and be done with it. 

Namjoon [19:50]

Group vlive in 20. Yoongi’s room.

He closes his eyes; the last thing he feels like doing is pretending to be chipper for a camera, while staff members stand behind it and cue reactions out of them. But the message is in the group chat, meaning the set-up is probably already done, and any interaction with Dilara will unfortunately have to wait.

Taehyung could yell; it’s bad enough that this weekend threw this unnecessary curveball at them but the constant interruptions are getting on his nerves. The impending rumours, the company’s reaction (fuck the company, he thinks irritably), the faraway tables - anything and everything under the sun to try and distract him from the only thing he cares about. 

He doesn’t want to drop her another text to tell her about his plans; he has to meet Dilara now, actually be face to face, see her, hold her hand and talk to her before he does anything else, even if it’s only for a few seconds. 

Taehyung [19:53] Hey. Where are you?

He waits a minute but she doesn’t respond. Unwilling to wait, he starts to call her when he finally spots her across the room, standing with three other people, all of them listening to a tall Caucasian and vaguely familiar man in a suit. Dilara has a glass of champagne in her hand and is a complete knockout; elegant in a short cream dress, she reduces him to staring for a good few seconds before he remembers where he is.

Almost as though she’s heard him, her eyes flicker a bit and meet his. His heart skips a beat; as he steps forward, she gives him that same small smile and shakes her head infinitesimally. She slips her phone out of her small clutch and turns away to type, a few seconds before his phone buzzes.

Lara [19:55] Have to stay for dinner. Meet you upstairs later. xo

The disappointment starts to settle into his stomach but he steels himself; they’re both working and if she says she’ll see him upstairs, then there’s nothing much else he can do except hope that her nonchalant demeanour isn’t a facade she’s putting up for him.

The vlive is a chaotic one for which Taehyung is glad; he’s preoccupied but there’s enough happening without the focus landing on him. Seokjin and Yoongi, both of whom managed to worm their way out of attending the event, are still at the hotel, the only two in t-shirts and joggers. Taehyung checks his phone constantly, wondering when Dilara will be back, only occasionally smiling and throwing in a comment here and there so he can’t be accused of slacking off.

“Alright, have a good one.” Namjoon waves and heads towards his room on the other side of Yoongi’s. Waving back, Jungkook and Taehyung head towards theirs, a two bedroom suite they’re sharing with Jimin, conveniently to allow for Dilara to stay over.

“What a fuckall night,” mutters Taehyung, kicking off his shoes by the front door and shrugging off his linen jacket. He checks his phone again: no new messages.

“What were you thinking?”

Taehyung opens the mini fridge and takes out a small bottle of whiskey and a cold bottle of water. “About what?” he asks without looking up, mixing himself a drink.

“You know what.” Jungkook says no more until Taehyung finally turns to look at him, frowning. “You were sitting with - with Jennie. All night.” He shakes his head. “Come on - you have to know what that looked like.”

Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t care what social media thinks. They overanalyse everything to death, anyway.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not them. I’m talking about Dilara.” 

His heart jerks momentarily. “Did she say something?”

“She - she didn’t have to,” he stutters. He looks quite nervous. “I could see her face - she was sitting right next to me.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of his drink. “And what did her face look like?” he asks deliberately, for the accusatory note in Jungkook’s voice is now unmistakeable.

“I - well, she looked… not happy,” he answers lamely, rubbing the back of his neck. While Taehyung’s gaze is fixed on him, Jungkook’s keeps flickering away. “She kept looking over at you two and… I mean, it’s obvious, right? Of course she wouldn’t like it.”

“She would also know, though, that it was a coincidence,” he retorts, calm yet unable to keep the bite out of his words. “And that I definitely didn’t know about it - which, by the way, I asked you to tell her. Did you?”

Jungkook hesitates. “Of course, I did. I’m just saying… you could’ve done something. You were talking to Jennie. Out, in the open with, like, no problem.”

“We were in public. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her when she spoke to me? Create a scene and ask to be moved to a different table?” Taehyung scoffs and shakes his head. “Yeah, that would’ve turned out great.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not fair to -”

“How is it not the point? This situation was out of my control. I was texting Dilara the whole time - and she was responding. And she didn’t sound half as pissed off as you do,” he points out. “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because I made her a promise!” Jungkook blurts out, his ears turning red, eyes big and troubled.

“You made her a promise? What - today?”

“No, last year. Before you two got back together,” he says in a smaller voice, and Taehyung’s stomach drops. “I promised her I’d tell her if you ever did anything like that again.”

Taehyung is silent. The drink feels heavy in his hand but he doesn’t move. It feels strange, like a shift in the paradigm of his relationships, as though a glass wall has been lifted and they’re all further away than he thought.

Jungkook seems to have realised the implication of his words. “Not that… I thought you would ever do that again.” He sounds like he’s about to say more but stops abruptly.

It stings. The long days and nights spent atoning for what he’d done, the hopelessness at the end of every day in Europe that he’d probably lost her for good, all stacked against the voices of his friends telling him, convincing him he wasn’t a bad person and that if he tried, if he truly tried and stayed and loved, he would be worthy of a second chance.

As it turns out, they weren’t sure either. Once a cheater, always a cheater. He wonders if Dilara still thinks that, and feels his vision blur momentarily. 

He clears his throat, slowly meeting Jungkook’s eyes. “Anything else?” he asks. “Since you made her a promise?”

“Taehyung hyung…”

But Taehyung continues staring him down, unmoving until Jungkook sighs.

“No,” he says quietly. 

Taehyung nods and finishes the remainder of his drink. Without another word, he places the glass on the table and heads into his room, leaving Jungkook outside.

—

The dinner goes on longer than Dilara would have liked, but the CEO of Tag Heuer, Red Bull’s biggest sponsor, is not a guest she could have avoided face time with. Christian had even taken the trouble to drop her a message (Try to get a picture with Frederic for the PR team), so her options were fairly limited.

Using the spare room key Taehyung had sneaked her during a brief, five second long interaction this afternoon, she enters the suite and goes straight into the room with the door closed. It’s empty at first glance, but the faint scent of nicotine directs her to the balcony.

Taehyung is sitting on the cushioned bench, still in the shirt and trousers he was wearing for the event, looking slightly ruffled and smoking a cigarette. Dilara stops at the doorway and leans against it, stepping out of her heels and closing her eyes against the breeze.

“How was the dinner?” he asks after a few seconds.

“Boring,” she answers. She opens her eyes to see him still looking out of the balcony. “How was your night?”

He simply shrugs. “I’m sorry about the… the tables and the seating,” he says after a moment, finally looking up at her. “I don’t know how that happened.”

Dilara bites her lip. There’s a choice she can make now, and the second option can probably lead to salvaging the remainder of the night. But something about how he’s sitting, some distance away and instantly apologising, makes her go with the first.

“Well… if you can believe it…” She sighs and looks at the ground, suddenly a bit embarrassed to be saying it out loud, “it may not have been… a total coincidence.”

Taehyung frowns slightly at her and when she raises her eyebrows, silently asking him to understand without her having to say it, he scoffs lightly.

“Really?” His voice is soft, but the surprise is clear. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “You’d be surprised how lax the organisers were with information like this. Leaving open laptops around and venting to strangers…” She rolls her eyes.

He chuckles again softly. He takes a drag and flicks some ash from the cigarette, looking down, his smile fading before he speaks again. “Why?” he asks.

Dilara hesitates, her heart clenching slightly. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “I guess I just wanted to see…” She pictures the earlier hours of the evening, seeing her boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend sitting next to each other, but doesn’t feel the familiar anger or betrayal anymore. In fact, she struggles to feel anything at all. “I don’t know,” she finishes.

Taehyung nods slowly but says nothing. He finishes his cigarette and takes a deep breath. 

“Are you angry?” she asks.

Still looking out, he pokes his tongue into his cheek. “I don’t think I can be,” he says carefully.

Dilara swallows. “I suppose that’s true,” she agrees, a little defensively.

“How did I do, though?”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung turns to her, finally. “I mean… I’m guessing it was some kind of a test.” He shrugs. “How did I do? Did I pass?”

Dilara holds his gaze, realising with a slightly pang that it’s the first time they’ve spoken this long since this morning. “With flying colours,” she says softly.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. There’s a flicker in his eyes, probably of relief, before he looks away. Dilara knows with certainty, though, in this moment, that he really did pass whatever subconscious evaluation she had been putting him through. 

Every single interaction she had spotted between him and Jennie, every quiet bit of small talk, artfully ignoring cameras, looking beautifully bored at an event that was far too long for everyone - it all came to a head in her mind. Dilara remembers exes she cares about, those she hates and those she is indifferent to. Today, despite Jennie being sat next to him and remaining truly and impossibly good-looking, Taehyung treated her like he would have anyone else in her place.

“Maybe I should’ve told you,” she muses, only half-intending to say it out loud.

“Wouldn’t have been much of a test if you had.” He tilts his head at her and tries to force a small smile, and she wonders if he seems sad. 

“It wasn’t meant to be… a test like that. You don’t know what it’s like,” she adds in a smaller voice, feeling defensive again. “I was caught off guard and… it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He nods. “I understand.”

Dilara bites her lip. “I trust you,” she murmurs.

Taehyung says nothing at first; she knows how her words probably sound. “Thanks,” he says finally, very quietly, before looking back ahead. “You may want to let Jungkook know that, though.”

Dilara frowns at this unexpected segue. She wonders briefly if it’s a joke she isn’t getting. “Why would I let Jungkook know?” she starts to ask, but Taehyung beats her to it.

“I know I’m not really in a position to ask you anything, but can I anyway?” He waits for Dilara, still confused, to nod. “You have every right to be angry with me,” he says, “but if you are… can you please talk to me about it?”

She frowns; somewhere, her heart begins to race as she senses her control on the situation slipping. “I didn’t say anything to Jungkook,” she clarifies. “Not about this.”

Taehyung stares at her and her heart slows a bit as he registers her words, internalising them. He finally looks away and Dilara takes it to mean he believes her.

“Why would you even think that?” she asks. “Wait - did he say something to you?”

But Taehyung simply shakes his head and stands up. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He stops next to her on his way inside and touches her elbow. “I really am sorry.”

Dilara gazes up at him, even the slightest touch making her skin tingle. But something about the way he’s standing before her, apologetic almost by default, makes her heart ache. 

“For what?” she asks. “You didn’t do anything.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Just… everything. I’m sorry.”

Dilara is sure she’s lost count of the number of times he’s said this to her, and it hits her now, during the one time he probably doesn’t need to. 

“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed, okay?” Hesitating for a fraction of a second, he kisses her cheek and brushes past her, going straight into the bathroom.

Dilara stays rooted in the same spot for a few minutes, feeling confused and awful. This hadn’t turned out at all the way she had hoped. She had been on her way here, feeling unexpectedly light and almost proud that she’d found a way to get a nagging question out of her head. But something has gone wrong, or fallen out of place, and she’s searching for it blind.

Opting to give him some space, she trudges out to the living room. Curling up on the sofa, still in her dress and make-up, she closes her eyes and wishes the night would end. She’s polishing off a bottle of water from the mini fridge a few minutes later to avoid a hangover when the other bedroom opens.

“Hey.” Jungkook, in track pants and nothing else, looks surprised to see her. “Just came to get my charger.”

Dilara, with her mouth full of water, gives him a tilt of her chin in response, barely looking up. The tiredness of the day has caught up with her, along with the emotional toll, and she rests her head against the side of the sofa and exhales. Taehyung is out of the shower by now, for the sound of the water running stopped nearly ten minutes ago, but Dilara isn’t sure she should go inside yet. There’s a bit of misplaced guilt in her, anger at the guilt, annoyance at the anger, and a craving for a cigarette she hasn’t felt in a long while.

“Everything okay?”

She jumps slightly, having almost forgotten Jungkook was here. She hums listlessly in response, seeing him shuffle towards his room from the corner of her eye.

“Are you sure?”

“Did you say something to Taehyung?” 

Jungkook pauses, but doesn’t look altogether surprised at her question. He glances at the floor and bites his lip. “I didn’t mean to… be so harsh, I guess. But I thought someone should say something.”

“About what?” she asks immediately, sitting up. “And what do you mean by someone? You mean someone other than me?”

“No! I just… I thought you looked kind of pissed off - which would make sense,” he adds quickly.

“Jungkook -” Dilara starts, then sighs and shakes her head, not sure where to begin. She can’t fathom what he might have said to Taehyung, but it’s becoming clear now that it’s most likely the cause for his distant demeanour.

“Look, I wouldn’t have said anything, but I felt like I had to,” explains Junkook, his voice low. “I promised you I would.”

“What are you talking about?” Dilara frowns, bewildered. He doesn’t answer, his shoulders falling slightly. A moment later, it comes back to her: a hotel room, a video game, and Jungkook learning the word insurance. “Right.” She sighs. “Jungkook… this is not what I meant. You don’t have to get involved in our - in our stuff. Okay? And you definitely don’t have to speak for me.”

He bites his lip and nods. “I was going to talk to him tomorrow anyway,” he mutters. 

It does little to make Dilara feel better. He’s still not meeting her eyes, but Dilara wishes he would, because he needs to understand this. She waits until he looks up at her, hesitant and abashed.

“He’s your friend,” she reminds him. “He’s your friend.”

Jungkook’s eyes shutter over. He pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly reminiscent of Taehyung, and looks away.

Dilara sighs, regretting her choice of words immediately. “That’s not what I -” But she can’t get into this right now. Shaking her head, she goes back into her bedroom and shuts the door behind her.

The room is dark but the moonlight from the closed balcony is light enough. Taehyung is in bed; Dilara scrutinises his face from where she’s standing, unable to tell if he’s really asleep or simply pretending. She heads into the bathroom and unzips her dress, stepping out of the pool of fabric and leaving it there on the ground. She picks up a faded t-shirt hanging on one of the hooks in the bathroom and slips it on, wrapping the comforting cotton around herself for a moment and inhaling it, before taking off her make-up and brushing her teeth.

Once she’s done, Dilara goes over to the empty side of the bed, pausing at the edge. If he’s angry, he’s forgiven her. She knows he has, just as she knows he will concede to her every single time when it comes to this issue, no matter his own feelings. It disappoints her a bit, although she doesn’t know what or who exactly she’s disappointed in.

She climbs onto the bed and inside the covers lightly, moving to lie beside him. He’s on his side, facing her, with a hand tucked under his cheek; she shifts to mirror him. Even in his sleep, he is so handsome that it takes her breath away. The moonlight softens his features slightly; Dilara touches his cheek with the tips of her fingers, somewhat glad he’s asleep, for she doesn’t know what she would say if he was awake.

It’s too tiring to think about it, though; the long flight she took to get here to Incheon feels like ages ago. She tilts her head up slightly and kisses his nose softly, waiting to see if he’ll wake up. When he doesn’t, she lowers her hand and turns around, closing her eyes and hoping for sleep to end this night. 

A few moments later, his arm comes around her waist and pulls her close. 

—

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