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magicshopaholic · 3 years ago

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Los Angeles (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Eight months after a magical weekend with Kim Taehyung, after which you never thought you'd see him again, you find yourself reunited with him for one more night.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 14.2 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, separation, implications of heartbreak, jealousy, heavy making out, nipple play, fingering, oral sex, blowjobs, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slightly dominant behaviour during sex

Listen to: "goodnight bad morning" by the kills

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

“Can I check your bag, please?”

You handed it over and took it back with a smile, slipping your arms through the straps and letting it rest on your back as you made your way into the arena, immediately scanning the crowd for Lily. It was last minute, inviting Lily along; but it was the one advantage of being in California - and, of course, having an extra ticket since the band sent you their own.

Your heart skipped a familiar beat at the thought, the backstage pass in your bag feeling like the magic key that would allow you to see him again, in the flesh. If he wanted to see you, that is.

A few months ago, it wouldn’t have even been a doubt in your mind. When you’d left Japan in October, it had been in a state of heartbreak and regret, and the following few days hadn’t been much better. You’d stayed in the black hoodie he’d asked you to keep the whole time, his ring hanging around your neck, listening to The Shins and Norah Jones on a loop, feeling your heart sink at random moments when you’d remember all of a sudden that you’d never see Taehyung again.

You had no way of knowing for sure, but you were reasonably certain that he was going through a tough time, too. Jimin had done a Vlive a couple days after Japan and Taehyung had appeared on camera for a few minutes, looking morose and not talking too much, eventually walking off without saying goodbye - which was when you noticed that he was in a familiar grey hoodie that only two people in the world owned as drivers for Red Bull Racing Honda - one of them being you. He’d also posted a picture on Weverse with the caption “goodbye, i’ll miss you”; to anyone else, it might have just looked like a nice scenery somewhere in the Japanese countryside, but you recognised it immediately as the dog farm he’d taken you to on what you privately counted as your first - and only - date.

You two weren’t stupid, though. Very aware that you lived in a world which had the magic of the internet and phones, you’d started off keeping in touch, texting and occasionally calling whenever you got a chance. But it hadn’t worked out too well, for many reasons. Firstly, BTS was on tour. Even as you followed them online and saw clips and interviews from the fan accounts you followed, it was clear that they had neither the time nor the energy to focus on a single thing more. Secondly, you yourself were nearing the end of the Formula One season and Red Bull, true to form, hadn’t yet made a decision regarding the renewal of your contract for the next year. You had made it onto the podium (second place) in the Japanese Grand Prix, the last time you’d seen Taehyung, which had definitely gotten you a lot closer to a contract, but the focus you’d had to put in in the following races - Russia, Mexico, Brazil, USA - had been insane until you’d finally been resigned just before the last race in Abu Dhabi.

But the real issue, at least as far as you could tell, was that you two just hadn’t got enough time together in Japan to define what you were at all. You’d both said some pretty heavy shit to each other - and while you’d meant it all, it was hard to reconcile that storybook weekend with just texts back and forth, especially when they started becoming more and more infrequent over time.

You had called him on his birthday, not knowing it was the last phone call you’d have. After multiple failed attempts at video calls and normal voice calls, you’d finally settled for just texting him a happy birthday, telling him you missed him and that you hoped he’d have an amazing year ahead. Taehyung hadn’t responded until the next day with a “thanks” and a heart emoji. You’d tried not to feel hurt by it; he probably had a concert or an actual birthday party he was at and after all, it was only a matter of time before their real lives took over your fantasy weekend romance.

January had gone by in a haze of missing each other’s calls and texts while he was in the US and you were in the factory, helping your team develop the car for the new season, and by February, your focus was geared towards testing the car. In March, the new season started. The day of the opening race in Australia, you’d received a text from Taehyung, wishing you good luck for the first race. Your heart had skipped a beat; he’d wished you religiously for every remaining race last year and it felt nice that he remembered that you were still racing. You hadn’t seen it until after the race had ended and you’d landed back in London, though; by then, it was too late to respond with anything more than a singular emoji, making it the last communication you’d shared.

You didn’t know if your feelings for him had really gone anywhere, but they certainly took a backseat after a while, if for no other reason than the fact that it hurt too much to keep missing him. You’d finally confided in Lexie, your closest friend and trainer, sometime in January, when the realisation that you would eventually become strangers started to overwhelm you. She hadn’t been too surprised, but by the time the season started, Lexie had started dropping hints about how you should start moving on, either by making racing your sole focus or by something you hadn’t really considered till then: dating.

In April, you met Alex Turner. He and the rest of the Arctic Monkeys had been at the Monaco Grand Prix, the oldest and most famous race of the year, home to every celebrity under the sun, to perform at the Amber Lounge Fashion Show the day before, and you’d first made eye contact when you’d walked down the runway and he’d crooned Take it easy for a little while right to you, a moment that had gone viral in the F1 community for about ten minutes. You’d partied on Sunday night after the race and, hopped up on a reasonable number of drinks and naturally attracted to how mysterious and sexy he was, you’d hooked up in an empty cabin on the boat.

You’d dated very briefly after that, mostly because you were both single and based out of London. Alex called you his muse, photographing you while you lay around on his couch and penning random lyrics about how a fast car had swept him away and whatnot. You, on the other hand, with your apparent weakness for dark and brooding musicians, knew instantly what you were trying to do and whom you were trying to replace - and how miserably you were failing. You hadn’t realised you were failing until a few weeks in, when you’d woken up in his bed one morning and, expecting to see Taehyung’s face, had felt your heart sink when you’d seen Alex’s instead.

You’d broken up with him before breakfast, a conversation that had turned unexpectedly mutual when Alex had claimed that your “concept” had been too “overwhelming” for him, while you chose to stick to more straightforward reasons and told him flat out that your career was too demanding for a relationship. You’d stood in the kitchen in silence, the mutual relief in the air obvious to any sentient individual, before he’d pulled yu in and kissed you goodbye. You’d suspected he wanted it to be a passionate farewell that he could probably write a song about, but in the haze of the previous night’s liquor and this morning’s freedom, you’d ended up fucking on his dining table before you left his apartment for the last time.

Your decision to come to this concert had been a tough one. On the one hand, it was a BTS concert - enough said. On the other, you didn’t know where you and Taheyung stood and while you could very well go to the concert and leave without anyone being the wiser, this could be your one chance to get closure - whichever way it went. Not knowing meant you were unable to move on, though, so despite how big of a risk this was, you knew you had to take it.

The next question was how to actually meet him. Calling and informing anyone in the band was out of the question; the only thing you wanted less than finding out you were over was making Taehyung feel obligated to invite you backstage. It could make you seem like a girl who couldn’t get over an ancient fling or a fan looking for clout, and you frankly couldn’t pick which was worse.

Finally, after ages of overthinking, you decided to post an Instagram story with Lily, taken in front of The Radisson where you were staying, captioning it “Los Angeles represent with this hot local” with a song from one of their older albums as the soundtrack. It was as subtle as you could make it; if any of the band members still remembered you, they’d see it on your Instagram. You knew for a fact that at least Namjoon, Hoseok and Jungkook had private accounts - if even one of them saw, you’d get your answer.

When you’d returned to your hotel after lunch the day before the concert and the receptionist had handed you an official-looking envelope, your stomach had squirmed in anticipation and excitement. As hoped, it consisted of two tickets and a backstage pass to the concert, along with a note saying “Hope to see you there! - BTS”. While it hadn’t escaped your notice that it was signed by the entire band, you were glad that the envelope had arrived at all.

Lily was your obvious choice for the concert; ever since she’d started dating Alex Albon, a fellow F1 driver, you’d both hit it off and made sure to hang out every time she came to support him at a race. Had Lexie been here, it would unquestionably have been her, but you were somewhat glad it wasn’t, especially since there was only one backstage pass which would be a lot harder to explain away to Lexie, as well as the fact that Lexie was sure to ask a ton of insightful questions, none of which you felt you had the answers to.

You’d spent all of last night in a haze of anxiety and excitement, even going so far as to reconsider going at all. There was no way, of course; at the very least, you knew Lily wouldn’t allow you to miss the concert. Now, you searched for her, constantly checking your phone for any update on her location.

When you finally found Lily, it was less than five minutes before the band came on stage. The show passed in a blur of energy and colour. Halfway through, you realised that no matter what happened between you and Taehyung tonight, attending the concert was more than worth it. When you saw him walk onto the stage for the first time, your heart stopped. It was proof, whole and conclusive proof, that he did indeed exist, that he wasn’t a dream. It was also a vaguely sinking feeling when you saw him gaze at the crowd and perform his heart out, that it wasn’t at all unreasonable to presume that you were well and truly in the past for him.

You tried to enjoy seeing him in the flesh as much as you could, though. He was in black joggers, a black t-shirt and a black unzipped hoodie, a black and white bandana around his forehead. His hair was slightly shorter and straighter than the long and voluminous perm that it was in Japan, but he looked so incredibly sexy that it didn’t even matter. When he sang his verse of Mikrokosmos and appeared on the screen, eyes full of emotion as he looked out at the crowd, you realised with an unexpected sadness that even if it ended today, this was the best last memory you could have of Taehyung.

At some point, he looked to his left and smiled at Jimin with his glorious, boxy smile, hair falling effortlessly on his bandana and onto his forehead. You’d run your hands through that hair, you remembered. Pulled at it, brushed it out of his eyes. You’d kissed those lips, hugged those shoulders, held those hands the last time you’d seen him, when he’d told you he loved you. I know it doesn’t make sense but I really do, he’d said, lips at your hair, arms around your waist. You felt a pang in your chest at the thought that it might not mean as much to him anymore.

When the concert ended, you said goodbye to Lily and hung back for a bit before heading to the building behind the stage, flashing your backstage pass at the bouncer. He looked at your pass, glanced at your face, and led you to the side, into a dark corner that looked more like a storage space than anything. You were just starting to get creeped out when you finally saw a familiar face.

“Hey, you came!” Namjoon, tall and winded, appeared from one of the corridors and immediately hugged you. You were glad it was just him; during the short weekend in Japan, the only other members of the band you interacted with at length were him and Jungkook. “It’s so good to see you. Taehyung’s going to lose it when he sees you,” he added, chortling, as he motioned for you to follow him.

Taehyung. You sighed and stopped in your tracks, knowing you had to ask. You were both in a corridor now, about to climb a small flight of stairs to a door that you could only presume eventually led to their green room. Namjoon stopped as well, frowning. “Everything alright?”

“Is this -” You bit your lip, your heart beating faster now. “Is this a bad idea? Tell me honestly. I mean, it’s been - what - eight months since I last saw him? Does he, you know… does he even remember me?” Does he even care?

For all his intelligence, Kim Namjoon looked highly confused, as though he was still processing the question. “Who? Taehyung?” When you nodded, slowly and incredulously, he froze - but not as though he was in shock. More like something in his brain stopped working. “Well, I mean… I’m not in his mind, but I think... I think he could get electroshock therapy and still not forget you,” he said kindly before straightening his face. “Seriously, he hasn’t been the same since Japan. Do you really think he - I mean, as far as I know, you’re still his phone’s lockscreen.”

You were sure the last part was an exaggeration, but your heart leapt all the same. “Are you sure?” you pressed, mostly because you thought you knew what Namjoon looked like when he was confident, and this wasn’t it. “Did he send me the backstage pass or was it all of you?”

“Um…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Okay, so technically, he doesn’t know you’re here. Jungkook saw your post on Instagram and I got the passes sent to your hotel. But we just wanted to surprise him, that’s all,” he added quickly, obviously seeing your eyes widen in shock.

“He doesn’t know? Oh, my God! What if - what if -” You couldn’t even speak, the number of worst case scenarios in your head suddenly skyrocketing. “Okay, this is a really bad idea. You know what, I can just leave right now and he never has to know, okay? Great concert, by the way,” you added hastily, already turning around to sprint the hell out of this place when Namjoon grabbed hold of your arm.

“Okay, come on,” he said calmly, like he was speaking to a child about to enter pre school for the first time. “Look, at least meet him. It would break his heart if he knew you were here and you still didn’t at least see him.”

“Why will he ever find out?”

“Well, I mean, he knows you’re here.”

Your eyes widened. “You just said he doesn’t know!”

“No, no, he doesn’t know you’re here backstage,” he corrected himself, waving his hands impatiently. “But he knows you’re in Los Angeles because he -” Namjoon broke off abruptly and sighed. “Okay, do not tell him I told you this, but… he created a fake Instagram account so he could follow your career. Like, literally, in the car on the way to the airport in Japan. He thinks we don’t know but we do.”

You were speechless for a few seconds. “But… if he knows I’m here then why didn’t he say anything?” you asked in a small voice.

“Well, because if I have to guess, he probably thought you forgot about him,” guessed Namjoon, clearly losing patience now.

You swallowed, staring at him. “What’s his username?” you asked finally.

“Taeovercoffee,” he said, without skipping a beat.

You could feel yourself wanting to smile, finally rolling your eyes. “Well, he’s wrong obviously,” you muttered, your heart fluttering and mind going back to Japan. But you were still anxious. Looking up at Namjoon, you tried to ask him, silently, if he really thought this was a good idea.

He sighed, chuckling in what you took to be mild disbelief. “Do you know that ever since Japan, he’s increased the number of English classes he’s taking to thrice a week? It’s the first time he’s ever done that. He’s taking as many classes as Jungkook now.”

You swallowed, pretending not to know what he was getting at. “Haven’t they all been learning since debut?”

“Exactly.”

Heart thumping hard, you finally nodded. “Not sure what that has to do with me, but… okay.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes with an unimpressed look at her, knowing he’d won. “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t. Can we go now?” When you exhaled and nodded again, he resumed walking. You followed him to the green room, where it was just Seokjin, Yoongi and Hoseok present, all still in their concert outfits, looking exhausted but exhilarated. They stood up when they saw you, though, greeting you like they knew you already, Hoseok even coming up to hug you.

You were still there a few minutes later, preferring to listen to them talk while you fretted about finally, finally meeting Taehyung. You worried about everything; your clothes (skirt overalls over a crop top and sneakers), your hair (shorter than Japan), what you would say. It was nerve wracking; you wanted him to hurry up but simultaneously take his time.

Finally, right when Namjoon and Jin were in the middle of discussing some hilarious mistake that no one in the audience seemed to have caught in Korean, Jin’s gaze shifted to something behind you, looking over the top of your head. You turned involuntarily, before you could fully guess what he was looking at, and it was like you’d gone back in time.

It was like a scene out of West Side Story; everything else blurred into the background and it was just Taehyung, tall and sweaty and sexy, looking at you with wide eyes as if you were a hallucination. He was still in his stage clothes, down to the black and white bandana, his black hair falling onto his forehead with graceful ease. You could just about make out Jimin and Jungkook on either side of him, but neither of them could steal your focus from him.

Your heart was racing and you realised you were holding your breath. You exhaled shakily and attempted a small smile. “Hi,” you managed, swallowing. When he didn’t reply, you panicked. “I’m sorry, I should’ve called but I didn’t want to -”

You barely registered his smile beginning to appear before he’d covered the distance to you in two strides and grabbed you into a gigantic hug, pulling you close and tight. You automatically wrapped your arms around his neck, momentarily forgetting you weren’t alone and burying your face in his shoulder as you heard him murmur into your hair, partly in English and partly in Korean.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered, arms so tight around you that you felt like your ribcage might break. “You’re here, you’re really here…” He switched to Korean, clearly unaware, but you didn’t care because you got it. You got it, and you were so relieved that you got it and he got it.

He set you down but didn’t let you go, pulling away just a bit. “How - how are you -” He broke off, sounding like he’d just run a marathon but Namjoon interrupted before you could respond.

“Um, I don’t mean to -” He grimaced, looking awkward as hell, “but the staff will get here soon.” He locked eyes with Taehyung, who nodded in understanding and grabbed your hand.

“Come on,” he said breathlessly, tugging on your hand, and you both hurried out of the room. You had no idea where you were going; you simply followed Taehyung. You finally reached a dimly lit stairwell where you halted to a stop and, almost like you could read each other’s minds, launched yourselves onto each other. Taehyung pushed you against the wall, hands firmly gripping your waist, and kissed you passionately, almost frantically. You kissed him back, hands running through his hair before they snaked down to the waistband of his joggers.

It was all very quick and heated and desperate. You palmed him through his joggers as his lips roamed your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone; you nipped at his lower lip while he pulled your underwear down and hitched you up, lining himself up at your soaking entrance and sliding in when you whispered your desires against his ear. You forgot everything else: where you were, why you were here, what you would do if you got caught. It was just you and Taehyung consummating everything you’d felt over the last eight months.

It was not what you’d imagined when you’d thought about this night but somehow this hot, frantic sex, all lips and tongue and teeth and incoherent moans, against a wall with Kim Taehyung, so long since you’d last seen him, seemed like exactly the kind of thing you ought to have expected.

When you were back on your feet and done cleaning up with tissues that your friend Chris insisted you carry everywhere, he walked back up to you. You were still leaning back against the wall, knees weak and panting slightly as you came back down from your orgasm, heart speeding up as he reached closer and closer to you. When he was finally standing before you, your chests touching, he brought his hands up to your face hesitantly, so unlike how he’d held you just a few minutes ago.

“You’re really here,” he murmured, his eyes wide with hope and wonder, almost as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. His hands slid down to your shoulders, your arms, your waist, and back up to your face. “It’s really you, you’re really here…”

You bit your lip and chuckled, knowing exactly how he felt. Your weekend in Japan had seemed like something out of a fantasy and you were somewhat glad to know that you weren’t the only one that felt overwhelmed by the reality of it all. You reached up and held onto his wrists, stroking the back of his hands with your thumbs, drinking in the sight of him. “I’m really here,” you confirmed softly.

Taehyung laughed weakly before lowering his head and kissing you, a full, deep, passionate kiss. You opened your mouth and let him in immediately, finally remembering what this felt like, what you’d tried to find with Alex but could never possibly compare to this. He was exactly like you remembered; how close he pulled you to him, how his tongue roamed your mouth, how his hair was so soft and so easy to grab, even if it was damp and sweaty after his concert.

You broke apart after a little while but didn’t pull away; Taehyung rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed. You wanted to close your eyes, too, and stay here forever but you knew you couldn’t, that you had to at least let him know what the situation was. “Tae,” you whispered.

He smiled, eyes still closed. “Dilara.”

Even as you smiled, you felt a small prickle in your eyes when you heard your name come out of his mouth with that Korean lilt, still sounding like the most melodious song he’d ever heard. You tilted your head up slightly and kissed him again before pulling away this time, leaning back against the wall. “Tae.”

He stood straight now and you finally registered how tall he was, your forehead just making it past his shoulder. His hands fell from your waist but he reached up to twirl a strand of your hair on your shoulder, looking down at you with a fond hint of a smile, as though nothing you could say could ruin this for him. When you took a deep breath, he raised his eyebrows in that playful, smirky way of his, asking you to continue.

“I, um…” You bit your lip and tugged on the bottom of his t-shirt, just to give your hands something to do. “I have a flight in the morning.”

Taehyung’s face fell just a bit. As you’d suspected, the end of your dalliance was not something he’d thought of yet. “Oh,” he said finally, eyes falling to the ground as his shoulders dropped. But then he raised his eyes to meet yours again. “Then we have tonight.”

True to form, just like the first night you met, Taehyung took you to the terrace of the building. He told you on the way that they’d recorded, practiced, rehearsed and performed, all in this very building. Apparently it’s where they spent the majority of their time whenever they were in Los Angeles. You preferred it, especially when you reached the top and the cool night breeze hit your face. Next to you, Taehyung sighed and closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair.

“Shit, you must be tired,” you said, suddenly feeling guilty. “Are you sure you don’t want to -”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he interrupted you, shaking his head and coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long now,” he told you, kissing your cheek. “Plus, we’re alone…”

You giggled, turning around and happily obliging, kissing him as though you did it every day (wishing). He snickered, responding with feel and, you guessed, adrenaline from after the show, picking you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. It was so familiar; it still felt like young love, full of excitement and affection and heat. Finally, lips still on his, you reached behind him and tugged at his bandana, untying it, pulling away and hopping down.

Taehyung threw his head back and shook out his thick hair, joining you near where you sat down with your back against a low wall, in the perfect position to take in the view overlooking the entire city. “So,” he began, taking a seat in front of you against a low parapet, bending his knees and casually taking one of your hands in his, interlinking your fingers. “How are you?”

You tried to tell him everything; how the F1 season ended, the fact that you got re-signed for another two years, that your mum and Rudy celebrated fifteen years together. You skirted around the topic of Alex; you didn’t think you had anything to feel guilty about but at the same time, especially given how passionate your reunion with Taehyung had been, you felt yourself wanting to hide it for as long as possible. You both hadn’t even been \very big; except for a few F1 fan accounts on Instagram who themselves could only speculate, no one knew for certain, especially since you and Alex definitely never went public.

There was so much to catch up on that the conversation eventually moved to Taehyung, his tour, how disappointed he was to not be home for his birthday again but that the boys did their best to give him a great time anyway, how he was exploring dreams as a theme for writing music. Sometime during the conversation, you shifted where you were sitting on the floor and your foot hit your bag, knocking it over so its contents spilled out. Thankfully, it wasn’t much - except for one thing.

Taehyung paused before gingerly picking up the cigarette pack, face smooth and completely unreadable. You sighed, just like you did the first time Lexie, Chris and Fred each found out. “Okay, don’t judge me. I don’t smoke all that often; just when I’m stressed or…” Your gaze flickered up to him. “... anxious.”

“I vape,” he stated, looking up at you with that same impassive expression.

You raised your eyebrows, not expecting that. “You do?”

He nodded. “I don’t do it so often, though,” he echoed, the corner of his mouth lifting. “But… yeah. Not just you.”

“Guess we learned something new about each other tonight,” you said softly. “But, you know. I have to hide it,” you added, gesturing to the smokes and the lighter. “The F1 community will not take well to a driver smoking, especially in this day and age.”

Taehyung nodded. “I get it. If I ever get photographed with a vape…” He didn’t even finish his sentence, but he may as well have. K-pop idols were held to such a standard of perfection that if it ever came out that V of BTS was vaping, he would be crucified.

“I can keep a secret,” you told him, holding out your pinky. He looped his own around it and tugged, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled him. There was a shift in the air; there was something so hot and intimate about sharing a sordid secret like this with him, a vice you both had, a weakness that couldn’t get out to the world - except to each other.

Almost to test him, you pulled out a thin, long cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag and only breaking eye contact when you tilted your head up towards the sky and let out a breath of silvery smoke. When you looked back down at him, there was darkness in his eyes, his cheekbones looking sharper than ever, his tongue slowly licking his lips. Wordlessly, you pointed the mouth of the cigarette towards him, watching as he leaned forward and took a long drag, blowing the smoke forward but to your side.

He frowned slightly. “Is that... green apple?”

You smiled in confirmation. “My favourite.” You took another drag and this time when you turned your head to blow out the smoke, he stopped you. His hand came up to your face to keep it steady and he tilted his chin up slightly, keeping it level with your face. Still not looking away from him, you slowly blew the smoke out, right into his mouth, just as he pulled your face closer and kissed you.

It was different from all the other times you’d kissed tonight. He opened his mouth and your tongues met immediately. It was slow, sensual, with deep breathing and sighs into each other's mouths. The cigarette fell forgotten as your hands went up his chest, gripping his t-shirt and feeling his hard, lean chest under your hands before they went up to his head and you ran your fingers through his soft, thick hair.

You moaned softly without meaning to; you’d missed this, him, so much. You felt his joggers twitch at the sound and rolled your hips forward, grabbing at a clump of his hair. Taehyung moved his lips down to your jaw and to your neck, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses to your skin. His hands moved up your bare waist and up your crop top; hesitating for a moment, he ran his left thumb across your nipple through your bra.

“Shit,” you whispered, feeling your core throb. His other hand moved lower down your body and lingered on the inside of your thigh, pausing there. Eyes still closed and still biting your lip in an effort to not moan out loud, you frowned. You relaxed a bit when you felt his hand move slightly higher up but when it was less than an inch away from your core, he stopped again. Frustrated, you pulled at his hair, trying to get him to go further.

He grunted momentarily and then, to your horror, you heard him snicker against your skin, low and deep. He moved his mouth up your neck and bit at your earlobe, teasing you. You jerked away and pushed him back by his shoulders, glaring down at him. Taehyung looked up at you with that same knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows slightly and even though he wasn’t saying anything, you could practically hear him saying Beg for it - especially since it wouldn’t quite be the first time he was saying it, not in so many words.

The hand that was up your top snaked down and grabbed your arse, pulling you towards him. “Something wrong?” he asked, his fingers now touching your underwear. His smile widened slightly and you knew he’d felt how wet you were.

You sighed, your eyes fluttering shut momentarily. “Tae, come on,” you whined softly, gripping the shoulder of his hoodie in your fist. “Make me feel good, baby,” you murmured, lowering your head slightly and kissing him, your lips lingering on his. “Or not,” you said after a moment, backing up a bit. “We are in public after all.”

The smirk dimmed slightly but his jaw hardened. It felt like a switch somewhere had been turned on, making his eyes darken. “I know,” he said at last.

So Kim Taehyung had an exhibitionist kink. Or some bit of it, at least, as much as his career would allow. You felt a smirk forming on your own face when your mind suddenly ran through all the scenarios you could use this information in. For now, it made you so hot that it was a wonder you hadn’t come already.

You reached behind you and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, slowly bringing it up the side of your torso and back under your top. He pinched your nipple softly, covered with nothing but lace (a good decision, you reflected mildly), smirking and biting his lip when he felt it erect in the cool wind. He pressed his thumb over your clothed clit and you stifled a whimper, so ridiculously wet for him.

You could tell Taehyung was enjoying this, the silence, the risk, the build-up, the control. He was looking up at you with half-lidded eyes underneath dark eyebrows, lips slightly parted and curling back over his teeth. Not breaking eye contact, you raised your hands and pulled down the straps of your overalls, shrugging out of them and leaving you in just a mint green crop top that stopped just below your breasts.

“Stop teasing me, baby,” he murmured, lifting your top carefully with his left hand and pulling the lace cup down, exposing your breast to the cool wind. You shivered and he chuckled quietly, and you knew that while you were egging him on, if anyone was really getting teased here, it was you. He brushed his thumb over your hard nipple again before reaching forward and taking it into his mouth.

You couldn’t pretend any longer. “Fuck, Tae,” you whispered, your back arching and hand going up to grab his hair and keep his head in place. You reached for the hand that was up your skirt, tantalizingly close to your core but frustratingly out of reach, and pressed his palm to your wetness. He squeezed it once before letting it go, making you stifle another whine of annoyance, swirling his tongue around your nipple and sucking at it until you found yourself begging for more.

Taehyung finally pushed your underwear aside and dipped two fingers in you, his thumb going straight for your clit when you heard a sound behind you somewhere in the building and pulled at his hair slightly. “Baby,” you managed breathlessly, already feeling close, “we’re going to get caught.”

His response was to silently speed up his fingers, softly groaning at the sight of how turned on you were. Despite how close you were to coming undone, you knew you’d said the right thing - mostly because you’d said it on purpose. You reached down to feel the pulsating bulge in his joggers and you knew you were right, palming him without warning. He grunted and immediately grabbed your wrist, pushing it away.

“Uh-uh,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “This is about you. So whoever’s going to catch us can see you come all over my hand, baby, come on,” he purred, the Korean lilt making your toes curl, kissing your jaw and moving down your neck as his fingers moved faster, his other hand dropping your wrist and grabbing your arse to keep you steady.

“Tae, I’m gonna - oh, God, I’m coming - “ With a stifled cry against his shoulder, you felt the familiar explosion of heat come in waves, panting as his fingers slowed down and let you ride out your high, finally pulling out of you when you were done. When you opened your eyes and looked down at him, he was looking back at you with a mixture of arousal and fondness, his hands resting on the tops of your thighs.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, voice deep and loving, the sharp and sexy tone disappearing instantly. He ran his hands up your bare torso and linked his fingers around your waist and tugged you closer to him. You felt your face heat up with the way he was looking at you so you leaned forward and rested against his chest, your cheek against his shoulder and your forehead brushing his neck.

Taehyung hummed in approval of this new position and his arms tightened around you as he sat back against the wall. You sat in comfortable, intimate silence for a bit; you ran your finger along his chest in random shapes and he tapped his slender fingers softly on your back in random rhythms, making goosebumps erupt on your skin, occasionally fingering the ends of your hair. You tilted your head up slightly and inhaled as subtly as you could; he smelled of lotion, something vaguely flowery, and cologne and sweat, and you never wanted to forget it.

“Did you say something in Korean?” you asked after a couple of minutes, pulling away slightly and looking up, ignoring his low whine at the loss of contact. “When we were…”

He raised his eyebrows for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I think so. Got a bit, uh… carried away, I think,” he added, a bit sheepishly.

“No, I - I liked it,” you admitted, shrugging self-consciously. “You sounded… sexy.”

He grinned. “Yeah? I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

It felt like you hadn’t seen this smile in ages, which you hadn’t. Not in person, anyway. You grabbed the front of his t-shirt in a loose fist and tugged. “I missed you, too,” you said after a moment, before kissing him. He responded, taking it slow and deep, opening his mouth to let your tongue in. You snaked your hand down his torso again and reached for his erection, slowly massaging it as you kissed him. This time, he let out a soft groan into your mouth but didn’t push you away; instead he nipped at your lower lip and his hips buckled just a little bit into your hand when you heard the sound again, like a door swinging shut.

You pulled away immediately and whipped around. “What was that?”

“Probably someone who can catch us,” replied Taehyung nonchalantly, reaching up to press a kiss to your exposed neck but you pushed him back.

“Tae, seriously.” You clambered off his lap, ignoring his protests, and craned your neck towards the door that led them to the terrace before turning back to him. “Can you go check? Please? You have more of a right to be here than I do.”

“But -” The relaxed arousal on his face was replaced with mild annoyance, a frown on his forehead until he rolled his eyes and got to his feet, walking away and disappearing for a couple of seconds. “Nothing,” came his deep voice, a note of irritation audible.

You stifled a chuckle, still on the ground when he walked back and gave you a look. “Fine, you were right,” you told him, grabbing his hand and making him pause where he was presumably about to sit down in his old spot. “I can make it better,” you added, adjusting yourself so you were on both your knees before him and looking up.

He raised his eyebrows. “With one of our songs? And not even a sexy one?”

“It’s been stuck in my head since the concert.” You shrugged sheepishly, reaching up to palm his slightly softer erection again. “I can make it sexy, too. You know… I can make it better...” you repeated, massaging him now, “... I can hold you tighter…” You pulled his joggers down so he was just in his boxers, his full erection now coming free, making him sigh, “... I can make it right,” you finished, your voice dropping to a murmur as you stroked your hand up his boxers and gripped his length.

Taehyung swore softly, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. When you started pulling his boxers down, though, his eyes snapped open. “Baby, you don’t have to - “

“I want to,” you said immediately. When he didn’t respond, you gave him a look. “Tae. Come on, it’s not like it’s the first time.”

A smile started spreading across his face, presumably at the memory. “No… no, it’s not,” he agreed. “I just… I get a bit carried away,” he admitted after a moment. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some reason, that made your stomach do a backflip. “You won’t.” You slowly ran your hands across his length again, watching as he shivered. “I want to make you feel good, too,” you implored, looking innocently up at him and licking your lips.

You could tell by how his breath was getting shakier that you were wearing him down. “You’ll tell me? If it’s too much?” he asked. When you nodded obediently, he observed you for a moment, face going back to the smooth, impassive one you’d seen for the first time in the flesh, all the back in Suzuka. “Go on, then.” When you ran a single fingertip down his length, he sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “Suck me…”

You reached forward and took his tip in your mouth in answer. He swore throatily again, and despite your very recent orgasm, you could feel yourself getting aroused again at how deep his voice was. It was a different feeling, being the one to make him look so helpless, so aroused, so close to coming undone. It felt right, somehow. You should be the only one to make him feel like this, you thought, as his tip hit the back of your throat and he groaned your name out loud. Dilara… You moved your hand lower to his balls and he groaned again, higher pitched and his knees buckling slightly.

One of his hands was flat on the wall, supporting him, while the other came up to your hair and he grabbed it, hard. You whimpered involuntarily, gagging for a moment, and you knew he could feel it because he clutched it even harder as his hips buckled forward. You squeezed his thigh, letting him know he could let go, and started bobbing your head faster, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m -” Taehyung’s voice was ragged and choked, and you could feel your jaw starting to hurt. “I’m gonna come, Dilara, I -” He broke off and groaned, and you felt his warm seed spurt on your tongue. You slowed down, pumping his length slowly until he was done before pulling away and swallowing without fuss, sitting back on your feet. You tossed your hair back and tried to make it lie flat while he pulled his boxers up, eyes still closed, looking completely fucked out.

You stood up and fixed your overalls before reaching up on the tips of your toes and kissing his cheek. Eyes still closed, he smiled breathlessly, his arms coming around you to hold you in place as he turned slightly and captured your lips in his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, reaching into his hair and running your nails along his scalp, hating that you couldn’t do this every day.

You were still very much in your own world, snogging lazily in the cool breeze of the terrace when you heard a sound followed by a different kind of groan. You jerked apart and you turned around to see Jimin and Jungkook, both holding paper bags, while Jimin had his face screwed up in exaggerated annoyance, turning away and muttering to Jungkook in Korean.

Jungkook slapped him on the shoulder, his own face red as he grinned apologetically, while Taehyung just rolled his eyes and seemingly admonished him before switching to English. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the bags.

“Are you hungry?” asked Jungkook, looking at both of them and pulling out boxes of fast food anyway, making your stomach rumble.

You could argue that in Japan, apart from Taehyung, you’d spent the most time with Jungkook and Namjoon - but even that hadn’t been a lot. You and Taehyung had been stranded in the Japanese countryside after the dog farm when the hotel car Taehyung had driven you in had broken down, and he’d predictably called Namjoon for help. Apparently a recent license-holder, the leader had driven over to rescue the two of you, Jungkook tagging along for reasons best known only to himself.

Apart from them, you had only run into Jimin once in the elevator when he’d winked knowingly at you before leaving you alone with Taehyung. Besides them, you hadn’t met any of the other members before the weekend had come to an end, so it was pleasantly surprising that the other two maknaes volunteered to bring you food on the terrace, especially when Jungkook walked over and hugged you just like Namjoon had, albeit a little less confidently.

As the night went on, however, it became less surprising. It was clear that they were both here out of sheer curiosity, and while the older members might have had the sense to give you both your privacy, these two had no such boundaries thus far at least. You found you didn’t mind too much, though; you weren’t the best at meeting tons of new people at once, so it was better that it happened one by one.

It was somewhat sweet how Jimin kept pushing more and more food in Taehyung’s direction as he spoke to you, the Korean accent slightly less pronounced in his words, while Jungkook seemed to have actively missed him for the last hour, talking to him in rapid Korean as though updating him on everything he’d missed the last couple of hours. They kept switching between English and Korean, and it was nice to see Taehyung so comfortable and happy that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be annoyed that they’d interrupted your precious few hours with him.

Sometime later, when you were just reaching over to dip a french fry in ketchup, he nudged you gently. “I’m, uh… I’m sorry about this,” he said softly, sounding a bit nervous. You frowned and looked over at Jimin and Jungkook who were laughing and talking with each other.

“Oh, don’t be,” you said immediately, meaning it. “I like hanging out with them. Jimin’s my favourite, you know?” you added, winking.

“Oh, ha ha,” he said dryly. “But, no. I meant, I’m sorry for tonight.” You didn’t get it and he seemed to understand that, for he rubbed the back of his neck a bit self-consciously and shrugged. “I just… I always pictured the next time we met that I’d take you out on a real date. Not… stuck up here on a terrace hiding from fans and eating fast food.”

There was something happening in your chest and it was a few seconds before you realised it was your heart racing. You popped the fry in your mouth just to keep yourself from smiling too widely and shook your head. “That’s okay. And if it makes you feel any better, I would think we’re hiding from the paparazzi more than the fans - which I don’t mind at all. But, just out of curiosity,” you added, leaning back against the wall and looking up at him, “where would you have taken me?”

Taehyung pretended to think, leaning back against the wall as well, before listing down a bunch of ideas that included a go-kart track, a dark room in Seoul, a B&B in Connecticut, an art gallery in Sevilla, and a museum of penises in Belgium. It took you a moment to process all of it, but you had fun discussing how you thought those dates would go before you reminded him that he did take you on a date, the day after you first met.

“Oh, yeah, the dogs,” he remembered, smiling. “That was a really good day.”

“It was,” you agreed, nodding. “You even took some great pictures that day - there’s this one I put up on my Instagram a couple months ago… hold on, I’ll show you -”

“This one?”

You looked up to see him holding up his phone, a picture of you lying down on the grass, black hair wavy and spread out, laughing up at him while you cuddled a labrador. “Yeah,” you said slowly, surprised at how quickly he found it. You remembered what Namjoon said about a picture of you being his lockscreen and you wondered momentarily if it was this one.

“Yeah, I saw it. I liked the soundtrack to it, too,” he added cheekily, and you knew he was referring to Winter Bear being the song you chose.

You felt your cheeks heat up, thankful that your skin didn’t quite let you blush. “You saw it?” you asked warmly. You remembered putting it up; it had been just before his birthday and you’d been missing him a fair bit, but your dynamic by then had started dwindling down to the point where you couldn’t simply text him out of the blue. You’d been flipping through the handful of pictures you’d taken during your brief dalliance in Suzuka and when this one had come up, you’d felt an overwhelming sense of affection and sorrow, enough to publicly lament what could have been had things been different, if he wasn’t a world famous musician who was scrutinised by the public and you weren’t a world famous athlete who travelled to twenty countries for nine months out of the year.

“M-hm. I, uh…” He bit his lip, his cheeks darkening slightly, “I created a fake Instagram account. So that I could… follow you.” His eyes locked with yours and you wondered what he wanted to say before he settled on follow.

You bit your lip too, and chose not to reveal that Namjoon had already told you this. “Really? What’s it called? I’ll follow you back,” you told him, taking out your phone and clicking on the Instagram icon.

“From your public account? Sure that’s a good idea?”

“I have a Finsta, too, Tae.” You ended up following him from both accounts, especially since you used your Finsta fairly rarely, shared only with your closest friends. You both went through his account after that and he showed you the posts he’d put up, mostly artsy shots of rain and streets and his studio. You stopped when you spotted one familiar looking picture, though.

“Is that…” You zoomed in and frowned, leaning across his lap a bit. “Is that me?” The picture in question was of a shadowy figure on a bed, long wavy hair spilling over the pillow and sheets, turned away from the camera and facing the large wall-length window, back bare before it was cut off by a white blanket. The person - who you presumed was you - was right at the bottom of the picture, a dark shadow and taking up barely a quarter of the frame. The focus of the picture seemed to be the rising sun outside the window, glowing red and making the sky ripple. In fact, for a person scrolling through, they may not have even noticed there was a person in the picture at all.

Taehyung nodded, unabashed. “Yeah. Remember the morning I took off before you - before you woke up?”

You nodded, recalling how uneasy you’d felt when you’d thought he was done with you once you’d had sex the previous night. He’d disappeared when you’d awoken and made zero contact with you for the rest of the day, even when, as part of Honda’s sponsorship deal, BTS were in the Red Bull garage a good portion of the time. It had taken your car crashing into a wall for him to acknowledge you at all, and a moment of rehearsed closeness with Daniel Ricciardo, a handsome fellow driver, for him to truly reclaim your attention.

“Oh… yeah.”

“Yeah, well. This is what I saw when I woke up,” he said, pointing at the picture. “And it looked…” He trailed off, a slightly faraway look on his face, frowning as he tried to think of the word. “... like something someone would write a song about,” he said finally, looking back down at you.

Your response was on the tip of your tongue, but you were afraid it might ruin the mood… even though you wanted to know. “Then why did you leave?” you asked softly, failing to keep the hurt out of your voice anyway.

He chuckled quietly. “Because not everything is powerful enough to make me want to write about it,” he answered, dropping his gaze back to the picture. “But you were. And that worried me.”

You didn’t have to ask why. It had worried you, too, feeling the way you did, how strongly you did for a man yo barely knew. “So you sneaked out,” you stated in what you hoped was an understanding tone, “because it scared you.”

“It confused me,” he corrected. He raised his eyes to look back up at you, his gaze more intense than ever. “Until it didn’t.”

Once again, you didn’t have to ask what he was talking about, because you remembered. You remembered what had happened later that evening, what he’d confessed, what you’d confessed, how it had been the last time you’d both seen each other until tonight. It was also the last time you’d both ever said it to each other, and now you wondered, looking at Taehyung, if he still felt that way.

His ring felt cool against your ribs, tucked inside your top. It wasn’t something you’d thought about tonight at all, choosing instead to live in the moment. But you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been holding a candle for him this whole time, unable to forget him, unable to move on. You thought about the fake account he’d created, how he’d been keeping up with your career and your life. It suddenly occurred to you that he might know about Alex. But before you could say anything, Taehyung leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, only for a moment before Jimin cried out in annoyance again, exclaiming in Korean.

You pulled apart again, this time a bit embarrassed; in all honesty, you’d forgotten you weren’t alone. Taehyung chucked a fry at Jimin, who looked positively cherubic as he whined. “It’s not our fault you came up here,” said Taehyung shortly, in English.

“We came because we haven’t met Dilara in a long time,” said Jungkook reasonably, making your heart skip a beat at the sound of your name, “not so you could make out with your girlfriend where anyone could see you.”

Normally, you presumed you and Taehyung would both share a moment at the allusion to the new kink you’d discovered about each other, but there was something else that Jungkook said that made you freeze, suddenly unable to meet Taehyung’s gaze. You felt him stiffen next to you and you knew he’d caught it, too.

It was easy to forget sometimes that you and Taehyung barely knew each other - because it felt like you’d known each other forever. The intensity of your feelings was so strong since the first time you’d laid eyes on each other, getting only more so the next couple of days until you left Japan, that you both focused on nothing else until you were separated and finally forced to realise how undefined you were.

You knew you weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t even sure you wanted to be; you simply didn’t know enough about each other to make that assessment. But all of a sudden, the thought of anyone else being called his girlfriend made you want to throw up.

You still couldn't meet Taehyung’s gaze and you could tell by the way he’d gone suspiciously quiet that he was just as awkward about this as you were. Fortunately, it seemed as though Jimin could read his mind, for he immediately scrambled up and dusted himself off. “There’s a pool table here,” he announced, fooling no one. “Anyone want to play?”

You didn't remember answering, but you found yourself getting pulled up by the hand anyway. Or maybe you stood up yourself; it was too hard to tell in the face of Jimin’s sparkling smile and angelic voice. Taehyung presumably stood up behind you and you all shuffled out of the terrace and into an adjoining room you hadn’t noticed before, where you and Jimin played against Taehyung and Jungkook.

You were glad for Jimin being here because the awkward tension disappeared instantly. You and Jimin were decent at pool, while Taehyung was terrible and Jungkook being Jungkook was amazing without ever having played before apparently, making the teams evenly divided. You were barely paying attention to the game, though; you were pleasantly surprised at how Jimin and Jungkook were deliberately making an effort to make you feel comfortable.

Jungkook sang dramatically every time it was his turn to shoot, while Taehyung, adorably frustrated at how bad he was, started sneakily knocking balls around and distracting everyone else. Jimin, bored after a few good shots, resumed the conversation you’d both been having outside about your friends and the work they did (choreographers). It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, enough that it was a while before you realised that you were both neglecting the game in favour of talking to each other, leaning against your cues and laughing every time you were pulled out of your conversation by either Taehyung or Jungkook who prodded you to play your turn.

It wasn’t until you caught sight of Taehyung’s face halfway through and spotted him turning away in what you could only identify as annoyance, that you wondered if he was annoyed at how you were monopolising his friend. In all honesty, you hadn’t even realised you were, but you supposed if how he was walking by both of you but deliberately ignoring you was any indication, he was definitely annoyed.

But it wasn’t even until he walked by both of you again, this time blatantly knocking the cue ball into another one so they both tumbled into the corner pocket, that you realised where you’d seen this particular expression of his. A million years ago, back in Suzuka, the day he’d been frustratingly keeping his distance from you, you’d brought out the big guns to test if he was truly over you. You’d roped in Daniel Ricciardo, a sexy, fun-loving, Australian beach boy who drove like a shark, making sure to pay him your full attention and laugh at all his jokes, until Daniel had finally called you princess, and Taehyung had snapped.

Danny hadn’t even meant anything by it; it was a media nickname given to you that most of the drivers used as a joke, but something in the way he’d said it at the evening buffet, with Taehyung standing less than five feet away from you, had hit a nerve. Taehyung had slammed his coffee cup on its saucer before stalking out of the lounge, the sound not dissimilar to that of the cue balls he’d just knocked over.

Jealousy becomes you, baby, you’d whispered into his ear not long after that incident, once he’d cornered you in your dressing room. You doubted he’d even heard you; he’d fingered you while making sure you kept eye contact with him the whole time, satisfied only when he watched you come undone because of him.

He’d told you he loved you less than an hour after.

Now, you turned around to see Taehyung sighing loudly before something suddenly seemed to fall in place for Jungkook, who immediately started to leave.

“No, no, we should go,” he said hurriedly to Jimin, who looked thoroughly confused at this abrupt plan. He looked over at you for support but you could only shrug, biting your lip and trying to suppress a smile, pretending not to notice how you felt Taehyung come up to stand behind you, towering over your smaller frame. As Jimin continued to protest, Taehyung walked over and held the door open, watching Jungkook pull him away as they disappeared, before shutting it and slowly turning around to face her.

There was about ten feet of emptiness between you where he was at the door and you were standing with your back against the table, suddenly realising just how tall he was. He stood there, unmoving, hands in his pockets, narrowed eyes boring into you. You returned his gaze with defiance, softly biting your lip in both anticipation and teasing.

“That was fun,” he said finally, his face conveying the exact opposite.

“Was it?” You shrugged. “I mean… sure, he’s cute,” you allowed, carefully observing him for any movement. “But not my type.”

God, he was so hot. The corners of his mouth widened, but it wasn’t a smile. He took his hands out of his pockets, flexing one of them as he did, and placed them on his hips. “What’s your type?” he asked, as though inquiring about the weather.

“Um…” You noticed all of a sudden that he was closer to you now than he was a few moments ago. “Tall,” you said vaguely, waiting for Taehyung to nod shortly in approval. “Smart. Well-built,” you added, enjoying how he twisted his neck slightly, “... artistic. Kind of moody,” you added further, tilting your head up slightly so you could look him in the eye. He was standing right in front of you now, your chests barely an inch apart.

He didn’t touch you, though. Up close, the black hair, black eyebrows, black clothing played havoc with your heart as he gazed down at you, smooth face betraying nothing. Against your skirt, you felt something move. “Anything else?”

You nodded, ready to play your last card. “I like my men kind of jealous, too, sometimes,” you told him, biting your lip and silently begging him to prove you right. Truth be told, you weren’t big on jealousy. But you had a feeling he knew that, too. Still holding your gaze, he tugged lightly at your skirt before running a hand up the inside of your thigh, stopping just before your soaked underwear. You’ll probably have to throw this pair away, you thought, as his lips curled back slightly over his lips.

Then, all of a sudden, his hand dropped back to his side. You frowned, your breath still caught in your chest, when he tilted his chin up slightly. “Take it off,” he commanded, voice calm and deep.

A shiver went down your spine and you resisted the urge to say yes, sir; somehow, you didn’t feel like it was the right way to address him. His eyes were darker than ever as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to obey. So, you did. Trying to keep your fingers steady, you reached up your skirt and shimmied out of the black bikini-cut you’d put on this morning, hoping for the best.

Taehyung’s eyes followed it as it fell around your feet before looking back up at you. He took a step forward and placed both hands on either side of you on the table, effectively trapping you. “Hop on.”

Everything he was saying sounded like the exact opposite of what it implied. His voice, already world famous for being deep and sexy, was irresistible when he was using it to tell you what to do… especially when you knew you’d do it. You nodded silently and hitched yourself up, legs dangling a foot above the ground. Taehyung ran his hands slowly up your thighs, disappearing under your skirt, holding your gaze the entire time. He didn’t stop until he reached your hips and squeezed them slightly.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly got down on one knee, and then both, and your toes curled inside your shoes at the thought of what was coming. He smirked slightly, clearly knowing where your mind was at, before pushing your skirt up and raising an eyebrow. You shut your eyes involuntarily, knowing for certain that you were about to make a whole mess on the pool table.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he observed in that same calm, deep voice, sounding almost surprised. “Did Jimin get you this wet?”

Ah. You’d almost forgotten what started this whole charade. At the end of the day, your strong, dominant Kim Taehyung was still jealous. You didn’t know how much to push this, but you reasoned that there was no time like the present to find out. You shook your hair back and looked down at him. “Maybe a bit?”

Taehyung’s reaction was exactly what you’d hoped for. His jaw visibly clenched and he pulled you forward with a jerk so it was just the edge of your hips keeping you on the table. You gasped at the sudden movement and he nodded in approval and, wordlessly, leaned forward and swiped his tongue up your folds.

“Oh, fuck!” You didn’t see it coming and you had to grip the edge of the table to keep yourself steady. Apparently, once Taehyung was unleashed, he was a monster, for his hands didn’t loosen their grip on your thighs even for a moment, remaining almost painfully tight, enough that you were sure you’d have bruises in the morning; the thought aroused you even more. His mouth was relentless; he was eating you out, sucking on your clit and running his tongue across your slit like it was butter.

Your hand found its way to his hair and you clutched at it and pulled, making him grunt. You could feel the vibration in your core and you whimpered - and you felt him smile. Or it was a smirk, but you were so close that you couldn’t tell. “Tae,” you gasped, “Tae, I’m close…”

He shook his head. “Yeah? Jimin’s making you come?” He spread your legs wider with a jerk and you whined, pulling at his hair again.

“No, no…” You gave up now - you just wanted to come. “It’s just you - only you…”

“Sure about that?”

You nodded vigorously, barely able to find the words. You felt his tongue lick your clit again and you sighed when, all of a sudden, he pulled away and stood up, running a hand through his hair and wiping his mouth. “Not so easy,” he growled softly, coming to stand between your legs and crashing his lips onto yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue; you responded with urgency, pulling at his t-shirt to bring him closer while he ran his hands up your sides and squeezed your breasts, making you moan into his mouth.

His lips at your neck, he slipped one hand around your waist and smoothly brought you down. “Turn around,” he rasped into your ear.

“Uh-huh.” You obeyed just as you saw him reaching into his pocket and finding them empty; you were leaning on your hands, your legs trembling from the orgasm you were so close to when you realised what you were looking for.

“My bag,” you said breathlessly, pointing to the small backpack peeking out from behind the table. “I have a… there’s a condom.” You both hadn’t gotten to it during the frantic stairwell sex but since you were on the pill, you didn’t quite mind in hindsight.

If Taehyung found it presumptuous, he said nothing about it. You felt him move away and reappear a few moments later. “Good girl,” he murmured, voice like velvet as you heard the condom wrapper tear. A few seconds later, you felt his wrapped tip touch your entrance and you groaned, your hands curling into fists, but you didn’t say a word, not wanting him to deny you another chance to finish.

Taehyung placed his hands on your waist and bit your earlobe before whispering, his hot breath on your ear. “Do you want me to stop, baby?”

You almost came right there, but you made yourself respond in the negative because you knew what he was really asking, in true Taehyung fashion, just like he had in Japan. “Please… please fuck me already, Tae,” you added in a whine, backing into him slightly.

The next thing you knew, you felt his hands on your hips and he entered you slowly, both of you groaning in unison. You couldn’t believe it; you’d almost forgotten to savour what he felt like, how he stretched you out, how his hands made your skin feel like it was on fire at the slightest touch. He established a rhythm quickly; you knew you couldn’t hold out much longer.

Taehyung was pounding into you, each thrust getting you closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he muttered, hands clutching your hips tightly. “You’re so - fucking - wet…”

“Tae, I’m gonna come,” you gasped once more, your arms buckling. “I’m gonna…”

“Come for me, baby,” he murmured, “just for me… come on…”

At his approval, you felt yourself ride your third orgasm of the night. He was still going as waves of pleasure hit you one by one, until you finally came down from it, your neck feeling cool and damp while his rhythm got even faster. He was murmuring in Korean again, before switching back to English.

“Dilara, I’m going to -” He grunted with one last thrust, leaning over you and letting go of your hips, placing his hands next to yours on the table. Panting, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before resting his forehead on it, slowly coming down from his high.

You felt spent - in a good way. Taehyung pulled out slowly and you winced slightly at the sensation. A few seconds later, you felt his arms go around your waist and gently pull you into his chest as he kissed you on the cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked in Korean, voice a soft, deep murmur against your skin. Your Korean was less than basic, but this you understood. You were too exhausted to say anything, though, so you simply nodded, turning your head slightly to capture his lips in yours.

You turned around in his arms, reaching up on the tips of your toes, and kissed him with renewed passion. You pulled away when you realised you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Um, can you -” You pointed to where the black scrap of cloth had been kicked a few feet away. Taehyung immediately brought it back, a slightly sheepish yet proud look on his face as he handed it to you and you slipped it back on. “So,” you began, once you’d hopped onto the table, pulling him closer by the hand to stand in between your legs, “the famous V of BTS gets jealous?”

He didn’t look embarrassed; instead, he tossed his hair out of his eyes and rested his hands casually on your hips. “Not really,” was all he said, silently daring you to disagree. You raised an eyebrow but when you couldn’t help but smile at what a liar he was, he smiled too and dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry if I went a bit…” He scrunched up his face and you realised he was searching for the word. “... overboard,” he said finally before pausing. “Actually, no, I’m not.”

You laughed, shoving him by the shoulder. “It was amazing,” you told him honestly before kissing him. He kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and stepping closer to you. His lips felt so warm, so familiar, so perfectly made for yours that the words came out without meaning to. “I love you,” you whispered against his lips, feeling him freeze the moment you said it.

Fuck. You pulled away slowly, dropping your hand from his face onto your lap, unable to believe what you’d just uttered. It was crazy to think he’d still feel the same way… except you had a feeling he did, but you couldn’t be sure. The longer he stayed silent, the more you were convinced you were wrong and the humiliation only got worse. You cupped the back of your neck with both your hands, still not meeting his eyes, and you were just about to hop off the table when his hand came up to your chest.

You stiffened automatically before you saw what he was reaching for. Somewhere during the glorious fucking over the table, the chain around your neck had slipped out of your top. Eight months ago, after a perfect forty-eight hours when you’d both finally arrived at the topic you’d been avoiding, you and Taehyung had more or less made your peace with never meeting again - until you’d been checking out of the hotel after your race and the concierge had slipped you a small brown envelope with a plain silver band inside it, the same one Taehyung had been wearing on his index finger the entire time. Now, he looped the same finger around the ring and tugged gently. “You’re still wearing this?”

You didn’t answer and you knew he wasn’t expecting one either. You felt your heart sink slowly, mentally kicking yourself for your inadvertent declaration of love and wearing a token of it, while he hadn’t even responded yet. At the time, you were sure that the ring meant he didn’t want that weekend to be the end. Now, for the first time since, you wondered if you were wrong. Taehyung brushed his thumb against your jaw and you finally dared to look up at him, trying hard not to look too hurt or hopeful.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked after a few moments, sounding hesitant. Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply nodded. He continued looking at you contemplatively before finally dropping his gaze to rest somewhere between your chin and your neck. “What happened with you and Alex Turner?”

Your heart stopped. It wasn’t that you were afraid of answering; it was just so far off from what you’d expected him to respond with that it took you a moment to gather your thoughts. Taehyung’s eyes snapped up to meet your eyes again and you could see your doubts suddenly reflecting in his, starting to assume the worst, worry clouding his dark eyes even as his face remained smooth and impassive as ever.

Finally, you exhaled deeply, knowing this had to come up eventually. “We dated,” you said simply. “For a few weeks. Nothing more.”

“When you say ‘dated’...”

You bit your lip, not sure what kind of detail he wanted you to go into. “Um… we met in Monaco during the race weekend... and then again in London. Since he lives there, too,” you added, hoping that answered his question. Your heart lurched at the look on his face, the silent hurt along with the forced resignation. “I broke up with him, though,” you whispered after a moment.

He nodded, not meeting your eyes. “I wondered why you’d stopped responding,” he said quietly. “Guess I know now.”

Ouch. Your shoulders dropped. “Tae…”

He swallowed as he continued to finger the ring. Finally, he closed his fist around the ring and sighed. “Did you love him?”

“No.” The answer was easy and immediate. You didn’t love Alex Turner; you didn’t think you ever could have, not so long as Taehyung still hovered within the boundaries of your life, a door unclosed. “The last guy I loved is standing right in front of me,” you admitted, feeling a bit bolder, just wanting him to look at you.

The corner of his mouth tilted up slightly but he still didn’t say anything. “I never forgot about you,” he murmured after a moment, slowly looking up at you, eyes bigger and more earnest than you’d ever seen them.

“Me neither.” You reached up to cover his hand with yours. “Not for a second.”

After what looked like a moment of decision, Taehyung lowered his head and kissed you again, a little tentatively. When you opened your mouth to let him in, leaning in and holding his face to yours, telling him everything you were too afraid to, he sighed.

“Is it bad that I want to kill him?” he murmured against your lips.

You giggled, partly in endearment and partly in relief, and shook your head, going back to kissing him. “Not at all.”

“I’ve loved you every day since Japan, Dilara,” he confessed, moving his lips to your jaw and up to your ear. You felt your face heat up again and didn’t respond, suddenly euphoric. You had sex again, equally passionate but far more gentle, with you lying back on the pool table and Taehyung’s comfortable weight on you, his movements soft and loving. He whispered after a few minutes that neither of you had another condom. You bit your lip, telling him you got tested after Alex, before he confessed that he hadn’t been with anyone after you. Your love for him filled your whole heart and you kissed him and, despite your better judgement, asked him to finish inside you.

You went back outside after that. It was nearing four a.m.; when you settled down against the low wall, with you situated between his legs and resting back against his chest, you finally started to feel tired. Taehyung’s arms were around you, loose but secure, his embrace warm and comforting. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, keeping the comfortable silence going, and turned slightly to breathe in his scent again.

It was barely a few minutes later when you realised he’d fallen asleep. You suddenly remembered that he’d finished a concert tonight, but you couldn’t find it in herself to feel guilty. Careful not to wake him up, you pulled his arms tighter around yourself and leaned back, trying to imprint this moment in your brain as deeply as you could, not knowing if or when you would ever get this again.

You awoke at dawn, the first rays of sun appearing over the horizon. Your phone buzzed just then: a reminder for your flight. You swore, realising you had about ten minutes to leave for your hotel or you would miss your flight. Los Angeles traffic this early shouldn’t be much, but you couldn’t risk it. You started shrugging Taehyung’s arms off and getting to your feet when you felt him stir and tighten his arms around you, groaning into your neck.

“Baby, stop,” he whined in Korean, shifting slightly and crossing his legs around you. Despite the fact that you knew you had to leave, you couldn’t help but beam, your heart soaring at a sleepy, irate Taehyung cuddling you at the break of dawn. You allowed yourself, for one self-indulgent moment, to imagine this moment if you were a couple; a normal couple, dating like normal people, waking up lying on a bed instead of sitting upright on a terrace, half-naked in pajamas instead of concert clothing and make-up, cuddling and snogging until you had to get up instead of cruelly being forced apart yet again with no knowledge of the next time.

It made you smile, but it also made your heart hurt. You sank into his chest for a moment, taking in as much of Taehyung as you could, before turning your head and kissing his cheek. “Tae,” you murmured, nudging him. “Wake up, babe.”

Eyes still closed, he shook his head and buried his face deeper into your neck, twisting your bodies until you both stumbled and fell sideways onto the ground. Taehyung groaned and sat up, squinting in the light as he attempted to flatten his hair, while you got to your feet, dusting yourself off and offering him a hand. Frowning up at you, he said something in Korean.

Biting your lip, you eventually gave up. “My Korean isn’t nearly good enough to understand that,” you reminded him, helping him up. “But I’m learning.”

“You are?”

“Well, I mean, kind of. I don’t know,” you said vaguely, now checking your bag for all your belongings and looking around in case you’d dropped anything. “You know my friend Chris, right? He got sick of me asking him for translations so he’s determined to make sure I learn the language now.” You looked up to see him looking more confused than ever.

“Who’s Chris?”

You gave him a look. “You met him. In Suzuka.”

Taehyung’s frown deepened. “He didn’t work for Red Bull, right?” When you shook your head, his eyes widened. “He’s Korean?”

“Yes. His name is Chris Park. Actually,” you added, “his name is Park Chanyeol.”

“Why didn’t he speak to us in Korean?”

You frowned. “I don’t think he spoke to you at all. You were ignoring me that day, remember?”

Taehyung gave you an unimpressed look, marred by the smile creeping onto his face. “I’m sorry about that,” he said softly, sounding sincere as he came closer to you. When you lightly knocked him on the chest, looking up at him with as much fondness as you could, he swallowed, the smile on his face fading into resignation. “Dilara…”

Your stomach did a backflip at the sound of your name, once again sounding like a song he didn’t want to stop singing. He swallowed again and opened his mouth, but closed it before shaking his head and opening his arms.

You walked into them without hesitation, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, feeling him hold you to him tightly. You stayed there for a few moments and, right on cue, you could feel your eyes start to sting with tears. It was so unfair; you wanted to stomp your foot and punch something. You could feel Taehyung press his lips to your shoulder, your neck, the side of your head in quick succession, the situation clearly hitting him now as well.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your hair, deep voice trembling. “Let’s not wait another eight months to do this again, please?”

You nodded, chuckling. “I agree.” You pulled away to wrap your arms around his torso, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’ll miss you, Kim Taehyung.” He kissed the top of your head before you finally separated. You knew you were crying now, tears actively escaping your eyes as you wiped them. You could tell that Taehyung was just about holding it together, trying to be strong for both of you but he was crying, too. You stepped back and put on your bag, when something fell out of it.

You picked it up before he could, straightening the long black and white bandana in your hands. “I’m keeping this,” you informed him.

He gave you a small smile and nodded indulgently. “It’s yours.”

It was too hard after that - plus, you were getting late. You reached up and kissed him, a quick kiss, lasting less than ten seconds before you turned and bolted, knowing there wasn’t much else to say. You reached your hotel, crying the whole way to the airport, and knocked yourself out with an aspirin on the flight, hoping to catch up on sleep the entire way to London. Just before you took off, you saw a message on your phone.

Next time, I’m taking you out on a real date. I love you. Fly safe.

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#taehyung x oc #taehyung fanfiction #bts fanfiction #ficscafe #thebtswritersclub #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst

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tinawritesstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Andiamo a conoscere la famiglia

(Let’s meet the family)

Pairing: Chris Evans/ Fisrt Person Reader

Wordcount: 4.7k

Warnings: smut, NSFW, read under caution

Request: “Hello!! If you’re still taking requests I was wondering if you could write a one shot where the Chris evans and age gap reader go on vacation with her family for the first time and it’s just supa sweet maybe even a little smutty? Thanks a ton” by the lovely and patient @bellamy-morley-blake

A/N: This is my first CEvans OS and I don’t know what lead me to write the tittle in Italian, but oh well. Hope you enjoy it! Don’t forget to reblog and comment if you like it!

CEvans taglist: @mrsnegan25

When I agreed to be Chris Evans’ girlfriend, the thought of him meeting my family never really crossed my mind, considering that I never thought our relationship would go further than a couple of dates.

And I’ve never been more thankful for being wrong. We’ve been together for half a year now, and things have been wonderful. He’s the most passionate guy I’ve ever met, about his job, his hobbies, his family and now, me.

We met in Disneyworld, at Magic Kingdom to be more precise, and to say sparks flew instantly would be an understatement. I was traveling with my family and him with his, and we met on the line for one of the rides. He asked for my name and then we started talking, completely forgetting about our relatives and the line ahead and behind us. After that, we went to a couple of dates, inside and out the parks at Disney, and as they say, the rest is history.

Since the moment our first date started, I knew that Chris was the type that my parents would like for me, even though our age gap was kind of obvious. But that didn’t matter so much, specially to us.

The idea of spending the holidays with my parents was mine, and I was nervous about the outcome of it and how Chris would react. I happened to be wrong, again. My boyfriend was thrilled about the idea and was excited because he’d wanted to meet my relatives for a while. So, we decided to surprise them with a trip to the Bahamas. The idea was to departure, each of us, from the locations we were in (Chris and I from Boston, to L.A., and then to the Island; and my parents from my hometown), and we would all meet and check in at the hotel.

I close the zip of my bag and let out a big huff, because I’m finally done packing my clothes and necessaire with my “lady stuff” as Chris calls it. After days and days of procrastinating, the day of our flight finally arrived and my luggage wasn’t even half way made. So, I had to go full speed and get it all together a couple of hours before leaving.

Chris texts me, saying that he and his brother are on their way to pick me up to go to the airport. I reply back with a “Ok! Can’t wait!!!” and then finish packing the last necessities.

After some minutes, I don’t know exactly how many, my phone starts ringing and when I go to pick up, I see that it’s Chris. Who else, duh?

- We’re here, baby! Do you need help with your bags?

- Uhm… I think I got it. But come up here to give me some kisses, I’ve missed you. – I pout and I hear him laugh.

- Okay, babe. I’m on my way up. – he hangs up and I keep packing stuff on my carry-on baggage: phone charger, earphones, passport, airplane tickets, etc.

I hear a soft knock on the door, then it gets opened and Chris comes in with his childish smirk. I smile back at him and walk fast to his waiting open arms. When I reach him, I jump on him, wrapping my legs around his slim waist and my arms around his neck, and he holds me tight against him, putting one of his hands on my back and the other under my butt.

I grab his face with both my hands and bring him close to me, to seal our lips in a deep kiss. The last time we saw each other was ten days ago, and I can see that he missed me as much as I did him. When we break apart, he smiles at me and I peck his nose, then his cheekbones and finally go back to peck his pink and full lips. Gosh, how I’ve missed him.

- I’m afraid that, if you keep this up, we won’t make it to the airport. – he says between pecks and I nod my head, but don’t let go of him.

He then puts me down, seeing that I have no intention of doing so, and grabs my face to give me one last full, deep kiss. We separate and he goes to grab my big bag, silently asking with a nod of his head if there’s anything else I need him to carry, to which I shake my head no and he nods again. I go grab my backpack and then we both take off, me closing and locking the door once we’re outside. We walk hand in hand down through the building I live in, till we reach the lift. Once inside it, we make small talk about his latest projects and my online classes. He talks a bit about A Starting Point, how the interviews have gone and how it has impacted to young population (me included, and I’m not even from the U.S). I feel so proud of him, he’s achieved a lot, after working so hard for it.

When we reach the first floor, the metal doors open and we walk to the reception of the building, where Albert (the doorman by the entrance) greets us and opens the door for us. When we step outside, I thank the kind man and we both walk to Chris’ car, where his brother Scott is waiting for us. My boyfriend opens the trunk to get my suitcase inside, and I open the back door to get into the car.

- Hi sweets, how are you? – greets me Scott once I’m seated, with a big smile on his handsome face.

- Hello, handsome. I’m pretty well, how about you? – I smile back at him and lean forward to kiss his cheek.

- Awesome. It’s been an amazing couple of weeks lately.

- That’s great, hon! Tell me more about it.

I pay high attention to him while Chris climbs on the passenger seat, and Scott tells me all about this new guy (Steve) he’s been seeing lately. I love how happy he is, he definitely deserves it.

On our way to the airport, we share what each of us has been up to in the time we didn’t see one another, while Chris controls the music with his phone that is connected to the stereo via Bluetooth. “More than words” by Extreme sounds through the speakers and my boyfriend looks at me through the side mirror and smiles lightly at me, letting me know with that gesture that this song is dedicated to me, to us.

The thing is, we haven’t told each other the ‘L’ word yet and the worst part is that I don’t even know why. We love each other, we show the other that we feel that way, but expressing those words out loud has proven to be a difficult task.

I smile back at him and lean forward to leave a peck on his shoulder, with the car seat between us. Scott keeps making small talk, and sometimes the three of us would sing whenever a classic song comes next. It takes us at least forty minutes to arrive to our destination, and when we do, we still have one more hour to do the check in and wait to board our flight. Chris and I go to the check in and dispatch area, where we hand the kind old lady our passports and tickets, and she does the procedure to send us, later, to the boarding waiting room. We say goodbye to Scott, with huge hugs and kisses from my part and a tight hug with a pat in the back from Chris, and we go to the security scanner to get ourselves checked. It only takes us around twenty minutes, and we are finally able to go to wait for our flight to be announced.

Some fans come to ask for pics with Chris, and he can’t refuse them. They stare at me weirdly, making me feel anxious in a way, because I’m not sure how to interpretate those looks. Are they mad? Are they judging me, or my relationship with Chris? We haven’t gone public yet, so I don’t really know what they could possibly be judging me for. So, I decide to let it go for now.

A voice in the speakers calls for the attendants of our flight to board, and that’s when he can finally come back to me. He gives me a sympathetic smile while I collect our stuff and I just wave it off. It’s not a big deal.

After almost thirteen hours of flying and waiting (five hours from Boston to L.A, then three hours waiting for our next flight, and finally four more hours to Bahamas), we make it to the hotel around six in the morning, completely tired and with zero energy to do anything but sleep. We leave our bags next to a couch the room has, and I decide to go and take a quick shower to remove the airplane smell from my body. When I’m done, I get out of the bathroom with just a towel around my body and one holding my wet hair, and I spot Chris soundly snoring on the bed. I let out a little laugh and then proceed to get comfy in one of his shirts and one of my black thongs he loves so much. After that, I go lay down next to him until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore and fall deeply asleep.

The next day, I wake up tangled between Chris’ limbs and I let out a big yawn before circling my arms around his back, closing my eyes and kissing his naked shoulder. I feel him stir and then turning around to face me, leaving a trail of kisses from my face down to my neck and shoulders. He keeps pecking every inch of skin he can reach, until I open my eyes and smile lightly at him, and he smiles back at me, before leaning forward to leave a sweet kiss on my lips.

- Good morning, pretty girl. – he mumbles against my cheek and leaves a peck there.

- Good morning, big guy. How’d you sleep?

- Mmm… your incessant snoring actually kept me up for a couple of minutes, but I’m getting used to it by now. – I reply coyly and he lets out a snort.

- Like a baby, considering I’ve finally got you all to myself. – he smiles again and I back at him. – How about you?

- You aren’t what they call a light sleeper either, my love. Have had your fair share of snores as well.

- And I’m sure you haven’t been able to sleep properly for it, specially tonight.

We spend a couple of minutes there, laying in bed, sharing kisses and silent touches, showing to the other that we lounged for this moment, after being apart for so long. The clock marks ten past eleven in the morning, and we decide to get up and unpack our bags. Chris goes for a shower first, and then joins me to do the task in hand.

After some brunch, we head out of the room after I receive a text from my mom saying that they were settled in the hotel (same as ours) and that we should meet them at the lobby. Chris takes my hand, and I can feel him sweating with the tip of his fingers cold as ice, touching the skin of my own. I take our joined hands to my mouth and leave a little kiss on the back of his, letting him know that everything’s fine, and he turns to look at me and smiles nervously but his shoulders visibly relax.

When we reach the lobby, I can see my parents waving their arms at us, and I wave back at them with a big smile on my face. I’m so excited about this.

Chris and I walk hand in hand to them and when we are face to face, I jump to hug both my parents after months of not seeing them due to my job commitments. They hug me back, telling me how much they’ve missed me. When we break our group hug, I turn to my boyfriend and stretch my hand to him, beckoning to come closer to us. He does just that, but stays an arm length to greet them with a handshake (I suppose), except that my mom doesn’t let him and pulls him in a big hug, taking Chris by surprise.

- I’m sorry, darling, but we’re huggers.

- It’s ok, ma’am. I am one myself, but didn’t want to cross any line.

- I’m starting to like you and I don’t even know your name, son. – my father smiles and pats Chris on the back, instead of going for a full bear hug like my mom did.

- It’s Chris, sir. Chris Evans, a pleasure to finally meet you.

The day goes on pretty much that way. Chris and my parents engage into deep conversations about diverse topics, like politics, sports, even religion. Dad explains to him the importance of meritocracy to make a citizen evolve (according to his point of view, obviously) and Chris gives his opinion about that topic as well.

We enjoy some time in the hotel pool, my mom and I sunbathing while our men chat away in the bar, and when the sun starts to go down a bit we decide to go and sightsee around the island. First, each of us go to our respective rooms, to shower the chlorine off our bodies and get into comfortable clothes.

Once that’s done, we meet again at the lobby, where my parents arrived first (because my man and I took some extra time to do… some extra activities), and were talking with the receptionist, asking him where we can visit. He gives us some maps that show the nearest touristic area, somewhere we could reach walking, and we all thank him before leaving.

We go to a small village, where local markets are still open to the public, and we all go our ways to see and buy stuff if we feel like it. Chris and I walk with our fingers intertwined, me resting my cheek on his strong bicep and leaving little pecks every now and then. I feel the love I have for him radiating through my veins, after the success of this afternoon, all I want to do is be with him, show him how much I thank and love him for today and all the effort he put to make things easier.

- Look, baby – he says signaling a stand with different handicrafts on a table, with a lovely smiling old lady standing behind it.

I look around, and Chris leaves my side for a moment to go and check out some of the rest of the stands. A quartz stone necklace catches my attention and, after asking the kind lady, I grab it between my fingers.

- Each of the rocks have different meanings, you know. – the woman says and I look back at her – The green one you’re holding now represents prosperity and wellness, and they all change according to the color. The purple one goes for spirituality and meditation, the blue one for calm force and relaxation, and the list goes on and on. – she smiles sweetly at me and I back at her. – Any of them caught your eye?

- The green one, actually. If you had two of them, it would be amazing.

She smiles again and leans down to reach for something under the table, to come back up with another necklace just like the one I’m holding in my hands. She puts them both inside a little paper bag and I hand her the money, then I thank her and go back to my boyfriend.

We continue our walk until the sun sets completely and we decide to grab some dinner before heading back to the hotel. After dinner, my parents decide to go to bed early because of the long flight and the hours of endless fun they had with us, calling it a night. But Chris and I opt to go to walk through the beach for some time. And that’s what we do.

The path is silent, but nice. We walk holding hands and suddenly I remember the two pieces of artisan jewelry I have inside my little purse, which makes me stop my walk and Chris to look at me confused.

- I got something for, well, us. – I say with a smile handing the pendant to him. He looks at me with a confused but lovely smile – When you left be on that stand, I saw these necklaces and instantly fell in love. The nice lady said they have different meanings depending on the color.

- Well, what does the green one mean baby?

- It’s a symbol of prosperity and wellness, according to her. And I knew I had to get one for each of us. – I take a deep breath. Okay, here it goes. – Today was lovely, with my parents and everything, you made it so special and joyful. I’m so thankful for you, that I had to get you something to express that, so this is it. This is my wish for us, a commitment I decide to make to you, for this relationship to be as prosperous and strong as this solid piece. Because I love you, and all I want to do is grow this love with you next to me, supporting each other and working hard to make it work.

I finish my little speech with a crack in my voice, tears accumulating in my eyes, but I couldn’t care less, because I’ve been dying to let him know that I love him with every piece of me, every fiber of muscle, every single part of me loves him like I never loved anyone before. When I look up at him, I see the same emotions radiating from his baby blues, and he wastes no time to grab my face between his soft hands and kisses me with all the adoration he has for me, that I know he has.

- God, I can’t believe you’ve made me tear up like this. – he says when we break the kiss and we both chuckle – You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. Your words just made me fall in love even more deeply with you, and now I feel like an idiot for not expressing my feelings well enough. - He laughs in embarrassment – But the thing is, I love you with all of me, with every piece of mind and soul, in every way there’s possible, and I commit to you as well to make this love grow even more, and work for it through thick and thin. You’re my world, nugget.

Now I’m fully- ass crying. I hug him tightly, circling my arms around his strong shoulders, and he puts his around my back, lifting me and hiding his face in the space between my neck and shoulder. Chris leaves little pecks on the skin there, and finally moves his mouth to mine, sealing our love deal with a searing kiss. A kiss that holds every emotion we have and share, emotions we’ve been suppressing all this time. No more, though.

When we break apart, he asks me to put the pendant around his neck and he does the same with me, and with happy smiles on our faces we walk back to the hotel.

We reach our roon and I can feel the change on the air. There’s tension, and Chris looks at me with a promise of a night full of showing me that he meant every word he said. I walk backwards, with Chris walking towards me, guiding me to the bed and making me fall on it when I reach it with the back of my knees. He crawls above me, placing both his hands on each side of my head, looking directly in my eyes. I smile at him, bringing one of my arms up to caress his bearded jaw, and he leans into my touch, leaving a little kiss on my hand right after.

Chris starts caressing my legs, from my ankles up to my thighs, leaving a path of goosebumps on my skin as he lifts my long skirt and rolls it up on my hips, leaving my covered crotch exposed to his starved sight. I let out a sigh when he blows a thin rush of air from his mouth, hitting my pussy directly, making me squirm because the contrast between the heat of my wet womanhood and his cold breath is evident and rushes a wave of pleasure through my body. He grabs both my legs with his big hands, opening me wide and exposing me even more to him, then goes and presses his nose right on my mound, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes while doing so.

- You smell divine, doll. – he whispers and pecks my, still, covered mound.

I let out an almost soundless whimper at that statement. His bed vocabulary is so vulgar, yet he makes it sound so erotic and sexy. He hooks his thumb and index finger around the waistband of my underwear and pulls it off, taking it to his nose and giving a little sniff that makes me close my eyes out of shyness. He can be so dirty, but oh so hot at the same time.

- Open those beautiful eyes, pretty girl. I want you to look at me directly while I have this tasty dessert.

I open my eyes, moving my body to be laying on my elbows and have a better angle to look at him, and he finally sweeps his tongue along my slit, teasing my clit with the tip once he reaches it. I look down at him, biting my lower lip and he goes back to the long strokes. Letting out a moan of protest at how slow he’s going, I grip the back of his head with one hand to make him go a little faster, deeper, harder; I don’t know, anything. Or at least I try.

- Patience, my sweets. Marvelous things come to those who wait. – he says and licks up and down my opening a couple of times before pulling away

Chris removes his polo shirt, exposing his tight chest muscles covered on all those sexy tattoos he has, and I find my mouth watering at the sight of his hot self. Then, he undoes his pants and pulls them down, along with his briefs, before coming back to be on top of me again.

- I thought you wanted to taste me? – I pout and he smiles widely at me.

- I will, my lovely. Just wanted to get comfortable, don’t wanna mess up my pants with jizz, now do ya’? – his Boston accent comes out and I moan closing my eyes.

- No, sir. We don’t want that – I answer in a small voice, biting my lip once again and batting my eyelashes at him because I know it drives him wild.

He lets out a guttural groan at that and finally holds my legs, puts them on his shoulders to have better access, and dives in to eat from my wetness, like starved man. I yelp in surprise when I feel his mouth making out with my lower lips, adding his tongue to the mix, driving me completely crazy, and he wastes no time to flick my clit with the flexible muscle inside his mouth, then sucks it between his lips, making me mewl because he’s just so good.

- I swear you have the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tried, baby. So juicy, I could spend a lifetime eating you.

Chris keeps his wonderful mouthy work, until he makes me cum the first time, adding his fingers to the process. It’s always like this: he makes sure I’m absolutely ready to take all of him, all of what he has to offer me, making me cum at least twice with his mouth only. I know I’m in for a really long night (but no one hears me complaining about it, oh no.).

The sensitivity in my core is too much, but he’s having none of it. He keeps lapping around my opening, then goes up and creates patterns with his tongue around my nub, drawing eights and different shapes to stimulate it. I grab a hold of the back of his head, making him immediately stop his movements and leave his tongue out, and I start grinding my wetness up and down his mouth, marking the rhythm and speed to my liking. I’m seconds away from coming, and he knows it because this is what I usually do when the pleasure his mouth gives me overwhelms my senses.

After a marvelous second orgasm, he climbs on top of me again, caressing my legs and pecking every inch of skin he reaches as he goes to my kiss my mouth. He places himself on his elbows, placing them on each side of my head, and with one delicate thrust he goes all in, getting a low and long moan from me and making me cling to him with all the sentiment and passion I feel for him.

- Fuck, baby. You’re so goddamn tight, still can’t believe this little cunt takes all of me in.

He lets out a low groan after that, being so into dirty talk, he can’t keep himself from saying the nastiest things I’ve ever heard right in my ear, which adds more lust to the situation.

Chris’ thrusts are slow but hard, taking his time to let me feel all of him inside me, making me moan and arch my back to him. He moves his arms to hold me close and still, taking his hands down to grab my ass, all while he’s still pounding into me. I grab myself with a firm grip on his shoulders, kissing him passionately as he becomes more agitated and uncoordinated, meaning he’s close.

One of his hands travel to my mound, and it doesn’t take him long to find my sensitive bundle of nerves and he starts rubbing it in swift but decided circles to bring me close to my third climax.

- C’mon, baby. Cum for me, I can feel your tight pussy clenching around me, I’m right there with you, let’s cum together.

The intensity of his words, the flicks on my clit and the powerful thrusts of his pelvis inside my channel, are enough to bring me to the ectasis that has been boiling inside of my lower belly, making me moan and groan out his name. The sudden tightness around his cock are what makes him go still and let a growl out of his pink and bruised mouth, releasing all of him inside my womb.

Riding me through my orgasm and his, Chris slows the pace of his thrusts, until he pulls put completely and lays all his weight on top of me, not that I mind in the slightest. I kiss his temple a couple of times, while holding him close to me, and I feel him kissing my shoulders and neck. Once our breaths are settled and calm, he rolls over to his side of the bed, bringing me with him to lay y head on his chest and interwind our lower joints.

- Thank you for today, love. It was amazing – I whisper against his pec and kiss him there.

- I should be thanking you, baby. Your gift got me even softer and weaker for you, and I thought that wasn’t even possible – he chuckles and I with him.

- It’s just something for you to remember me when you’re away working.

- I always carry you with me, my sweet girl. And I always will- he whispers and then closes his eyes – I love you so much, honey.

- I love you too, big guy – I close my eyes and let sleep wash over me.

We fall asleep like this, together, holding each other in a mix of sweat, body fluids and a promise of always loving each other. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

#christopher robert evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot #chris evans

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itcamefromthetoybox · 3 years ago

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Uh Oh, It’s The Bad Guy!

Today’s Friday, which means it’s time for another thrilling toy review! Some readers might recall that a couple of weeks back, I did a review of the Baby Yoda toy that was released as part of the “Star Wars Retro Collection,” a line of figures done in the style of the original Star Wars figures from the 1970’s, only without the smell of pot clinging to them. Well, today, I thought it’d be fun to touch on another figure from that line, which was released for the hit Disney+ show, “The Mandalorian.” You know him, you love him, you hate him! Put your hands together for… MOFF GIDEON! (Insert sounds of cheering crowd here.)

When I did my review of Baby Yoda, I talked in detail about what the Retro Collection is, so I’m not gonna repeat myself. So let’s get into our character, and do note that there are some UNAVOIDABLE SPOILERS in this review, so if that bothers you, go watch “The Mandalorian” right now and we won’t have a problem. That being said, Moff Gideon is the big baddie of the series, a cunning planner and the leader of most of the Imperials we’ve seen in the show. The figure is 3.75 inches and, if you’re lucky enough to find him in stores, goes for about $10. He’s got two accessories and can hold them both in his hands. He comes with one gun and… dramatic pause… THE DARKSABER! If you’ve seen this show or “Star Wars: Rebels,” then you know what a huge deal that is! If you didn’t see either show, then the most basic way to think of it is a black lightsaber. For when the red lightsaber just wasn’t goth enough.

A black cloak over black armor. Boy howdy, was this fun to try to photograph.

So, there’s a few key details here that separate this figure from the majority of modern Star Wars toys, which makes sense, since this one was done with 1970’s-80’s styling. First, his face isn’t a perfect replica of the actor’s face like a lot of toys based off live action characters are. You can still tell who this is supposed to be, but don’t expect to buy a tiny Giancarlo Esposito. His body armor is fairly detailed, though, much like in the show, it’s mostly black with the occasional red and silver. Articulation’s very limited here, and is limited to the legs, arms, and neck. So far, I’m not really saying anything surprising.

Giancarlo Esposito: Here to utterly eff up the protagonists of all your favorite shows.

Of course, if you can see the pics in this review and Tumblr hasn’t worked its usual magic and lost or blocked them all, you might have noticed that Gideon’s wearing what seems to be a sleeveless black trench coat, like a cross between a hipster and a nerd desperately trying to look badass. That’s supposed to be his cape. See, in the 70’s, very few Star Wars toys had cloth capes or cloaks. A few did, like the adorable Jawa, but the majority, like Vader and Obi-Wan, had plastic coats like this. It’s a solid piece of plastic that can be removed with effort, and it does not flow in the wind.

From behind, he looks like a solid black statue. Not really intimidating.

Let’s talk about his accessories a bit. His blaster is solid black and looks like Han Solo’s gun. There is no way to store it if you don’t want Gideon holding it, so either set it aside or always have him ready for a shoot-out. The same is true for the Darksaber. No way to store it outside of Gideon holding it, so I guess he’s just always gonna be up for a fight. For a lot of early Star Wars toys, their lightsabers were part of their arms and could telescope into their arms, making it look like the lightsaber was turned off and keeping kids from losing the damn things and needing to buy a whole new Luke Skywalker every time they misplaced his iconic accessory. When the toys for “Empire Strikes Back” came out, though, the free ride was over and the sword was a separate, easy to lose piece, and that is how Gideon’s Darksaber works. To help it stand out against his black outfit, the Darksaber is also not black, and is instead gunmetal grey. At first, I thought it was translucent, but it looks like that’s just how the grey plastic looks and is my eyes playing tricks on me. Lo, for I am a fool!

Toy swords and guns: previously seen on the social media accounts of every edgy white boy trying to be cool by acting like his favorite anime villain.

Gideon’s able to hold both his accessories at once, and ideally it won’t matter which hand holds which item. For my figure, though, his gun only stays in his right hand and his Darksaber in his left. I tried switching it up, and he dropped them faster then a drunk straight boy drops his digits at a bar. But even then, Gideon doesn’t really want to hold his gun, and it is usually one inattentive touch away from falling. So you have a small, black accessories that falls off the toy easily. Give it a week before you’ve lost it forever.

How Hot Topic didn’t jump on this dude’s design, I’ll never know.

Gideon is a decent toy aimed at collectors, though the devotion to replicating the style of the original toys means he can be given to kids. The box says he’s for ages 4 and up, so just make sure whoever has access to him is past the point of putting things in their mouths. Ideally, you can find him at retail stores, but I never have and ended up ordering him online. If you like retro figures, he’s a great fit for your Star Wars collection, though, maybe keep a little plastic baggie around to store the accessories.

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tohellandbackanthology · 5 years ago

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holy crap we’re 51% funded: announcing the Community Book program!

Hi folks! The whole To Hell + Back team has been utterly blown away over the last couple of days by the response you guys have had to the launch of our Indiegogo campaign and the support you’ve shown our little (big) book--we’re 51% funded after less than 48 hours online, which is beyond our wildest dreams for a self-indulgent fan project we dreamed up in a backyard over some chocolate almonds!

(Not sure who we are or what this project is? Check out our Indiegogo page here!)

We are well aware that given current global events, many people are understandably concerned and/or uncertain about their personal finances, and may not have expendable income to contribute to our crowdfunding campaign while it’s running even if they very much want to own a print copy of To Hell + Back: A Destiel Anthology. With this in mind, we’ve had a handful of extremely thoughtful & generous members of our fandom approach us asking how they might be able to purchase additional copies of the print books through our fundraising campaign, and then have us gift them to fellow fans who are experiencing financial hardship. Amazing, right? We certainly thought so.

After much careful thought and discussion between ourselves about how best to make this happen while remaining totally committed to both fairness and transparency, we’ve worked a little behind-the-scenes magic and would like to present to you the To Hell + Back Community Book Program (or CBP for short)!

Community Book Program? “What is that?” you ask

Essentially, the Community Book Program has been set up as a special set of perks and add-ons right on our Indiegogo page that will allow people to not only buy Community Books to gift to other cash-strapped fans (that they may not necessarily know personally), but to pay for shipping to them as well by choosing a Community Ship add-on that allows the buyer to select whether that book goes to someone in Canada, in the United States, or somewhere else around the world. The Community Books perks and add-ons will be available for purchase until end-of-day Wednesday May 6th, 2020.

For buyers and donators, there are two different ways to provide Community Books:

Number 1: To access the Community Books perks directly, please go here, select either the one or two book option with the gorgeous black-and-white promo art by @kayrosebee, click “get this perk”, and proceed to checkout! Once you’ve clicked “continue to payment”, you will then be asked to agree to the Terms of Use, and click “continue to payment” again. The next page that loads is where you can choose add-ons. If you scroll down below the pink Checkout button, you will see a section entitled “Perks you may also like”, and you can select “add perk” for your choice of Canadian, US, or International Community shipping for the books you are donating. Please ensure that you are purchasing adequate shipping for your selected number of books!

Additionally, please note that in order to check out with option 1, you will be asked to put in your mailing address--don’t worry, we will know to disregard these ones for Community Books when it comes time to ship, and we will be creating unique shipping labels specifically for the lucky recipients. They will not ever see any of your information. Your privacy is paramount to us.

At this add-on stage, you may notice that you have the option to purchase either one or two more additional Community Books, as well as shipping for them. You can purchase up to 4 Community Books total this way, as otherwise Indiegogo will not allow you to check out with multiple regular perks at one time. If you would like to purchase more than 4 CBP books at a time, please contact the mod team directly so that we can assist you with this.

Number 2: If you would like to purchase a perk for yourself but also donate books to the CBP within a single transaction, please go to our Indiegogo page, select the perk you want for yourself, click “continue to payment”, and then follow the instructions above to get to the add-on screen! From there, you will be able to add on either one or two Community books and the corresponding Community Ship option of your choice. Again, please ensure that you are purchasing adequate shipping for your selected number of books!

If you are one of said cash-strapped fans who would like a chance to get a print copy of the To Hell + Back anthology that you wouldn’t otherwise be able to, we strongly encourage you to enter the Community Book draws (US residents link) (Canadian residents link) (International residents link) before Wednesday May 6th 2020!

Limit of one entry per person please--multiple entries for the same person will be deleted! We will randomly draw names and announce winners on Saturday May 9th, 2020. The number of names selected from each of the 3 draws will be based on the number of Community Books that have been purchased for each of the 3 shipping destinations by the May 6th deadline. If you are the lucky winner of a Community book, we will contact you via email to obtain your shipping information...yay!

Finally, please look below to read a little FAQ we’ve put together that we hope will help answer some of the most common questions we think we will get about the CBP!

Community Book program FAQ:

Q: Why are the Community Ship options listed as costing $1.00?

A: For a few reasons--first, because Indiegogo will not allow us to create a perk that costs zero dollars. If we could have, we would have!

Secondly, we wanted to find a way to make sure the considerable costs of shipping would be covered for Community Books in a manner that would a) not artificially inflate our fundraising total, as shipping costs are calculated separately, and b) not require the person donating to know the name or the address of the person the book will be going to, since they won’t have that information at the time of purchase. The shipping price of the $1.00 perk will be included at checkout.

Q: What if I want to donate a book directly to someone I know and not have them participate in the draw?

A: That is incredibly sweet of you! We recommend that you either:

1. Do a separate transaction: purchase a perk and put in your friend’s address 2. Purchase a perk that includes multiple books, or 3. Purchase a single-book perk for yourself and make use of the “one extra print book” add-on before you complete your purchase.

Please note that if you choose option 2 or 3, please be aware that all books included in your order will be shipped to your address, and that you will be responsible for any additional shipping costs required to get your donated book to its final destination.

Q: Why can’t I just order a book for my friend and make special arrangements with you guys to ship it to them?

A: Listen, we totally get how that seems like it would be a simple thing from the outside, but if this anthology project reaches its fundraising goal, we are already about talking 500+ physical books plus merch that our team (who also have full-time jobs! School! Other hobbies! One very cute kid!) will have to sort, pack, label, and ship come October 2020 (fingers crossed!).

In the best interest of getting our supporters their products in a relatively timely fashion, of our vital need for administrative organization, and of our general sanity, it is very important to us to be able to streamline that process as much as we possibly can. It is our sincere hope that the fewer exceptions we have to handle, the fewer mistakes we will make...and we just want everyone to be happy!

Q: What if I’m looking to donate something in an arrangement/quantity that isn’t covered here?

A: Please contact us directly to pitch your idea or concern! We are happy to chat, and the worst we will say is, “sorry, no, we can’t do that!” (And then probably say “sorry” three or four more times...have we mentioned that 6 of 8 of us are Canadian?)

Q: What if your anthology doesn’t meet its fundraising goals? Do the CBP draw winners still get books?

A: If To Hell + Back: A Destiel Anthology does not meet its fundraising goals, all money given to the campaign gets refunded directly back to our wonderful supporters, and the print books do not get printed. This means that if that is what happens, then no, unfortunately the draw winners will not receive print books. Nobody will, and we will be sad. That being said, at the time of writing we are already halfway funded! We are very hopeful that our crazy dream of a print anthology will become a reality!

Q: Can I purchase a Community Book without also purchasing Community Shipping?

A: Technically you can, yes. We’d like to strongly encourage you not to do that, and ask you to consider that we want to put these books directly in the hands of as many Dean/Cas fans as possible. Paying for shipping in tandem with the Community Books ensures that we can make that happen, and that more of whatever money is left over after all of the books have shipped and the project’s expenses have been paid can go directly to our charity of choice: WISH Vancouver. If any Community Books end up orphaned (ie, are purchased without shipping), they will likely become part of a giveaway that happens after the fundraiser has closed for good.

This FAQ may be added to as more questions arise, but in the meantime, your trusty mod @justholdingstill has thrown down the gauntlet by purchasing the very first Community Book with International shipping...woo!

#tohellandbackanthology #indiegogo #Destiel fanfic #DESTIEL FANART #SPNFamily #Community Book program #long post #donations #fan project #fan zine #destiel anthology #fan works

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xellandria · 4 years ago

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Zmija Yilan was a temporary character I played towards the end of our Tomb of Annihilation campaign after my boy Alexus got petrified by a beholder somewhere deep in the bowels of the tomb itself. We were able to “salvage” both him and Amara (who had also gotten petrified in the same fight) by shoving them into the Bag of Holding, but short of having the two of us sit on the bench while the remaining two party members waddled back to town, we had to roll some new characters.

I spent most of the week between the petrification and the new characters appearing being mad at myself for not remembering I had Inspiration I could have used to reroll either of my failed dex saves and not being able to do much beyond that, but with less than 72 hours left until she had to debut, I finally pulled an idea out of my butt, ran it by the DM because it involved Shenanigans™, got the OK and started designing her. Thus was born Zmija Yilan, whose appearance was based partly on an old photo that was semi-viral on Tumblr several years prior and partly on Xelloss from Slayers because when I’m in a pinch, that’s always who I fall back on, and have been doing so for like, 20+ years at this point lmao. Personality-wise, there was a post floating around Tumblr that week about proverbs in various languages that, when translated literally or without context, made very little sense so she got a lot of that (and associated misunderstandings based on language mix-ups) mixed in with—again—Xelloss from Slayers, because I am a hack. I would probably never play her again because she was so firmly entrenched in that campaign and also there’s some parts of how I designed/played her that I look back on and am like “ehhh I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the optics of this,” but I enjoyed playing her a lot more than I expected, and I look back on the end of our Tomb campaign very fondly because of it.

I haven’t been able to talk about her in public both for a lack of reason to do so and because I didn’t want to “spoil” my group in case they found my various social media posts, but as it’s nearly a year since she was introduced and nine months since the campaign ended, I’m gonna absolutely wall of text the shit outta this bitch, rofl (that said there’s baby’s first nekkid pin-up under here so assuming Tumblr lets me actually post it, fair warning for that under the cut)

Zmija Yilan - level 8-10 Human* Warlock (Great Old Ones/Pact of the Tome) (usually this is where my D&D character posts put stats but I don’t actually have access to her character sheet anymore, so let’s just pretend she had something ridiculous like maxed Charisma because I remember my spell DC being ridiculously high)

Zmija Yilan is a traveler from the far-off land of Zemlya, and a disciple of Matrymriy, one of the "family" of five gods in the pantheon of that region. Matrymriy came to Zmija in a dream one night and told her to travel across the seas because She had a task for her, and that she would learn more once she reached her destination. She's been traveling around Faerun for seven or so years—reaching one place, being given hints to go to a specific location, and upon reaching it, being told to travel on without seeming to do much more than just Be There. Upon reaching Chult sometime within the last few months, her patron's hints indicated that she should travel to a place called Shilku Bay; she hired a guide (named Salida) and a bodyguard (a Fort Belurian mook) with what little locally-acceptable currency she had; they got separated after being attacked by a band of undead, and after failing to reunite with them, she was wandering around lost, trusting that Matrymriy will guide her where She desires her to go.

Part of her wandering had her end up in the Tomb of the Nine Gods itself, where she encountered our adventuring party (down two player characters) desperately trying to find their way out of the tomb in the hopes of returning to Port Nyanzaru to depetrify their friends. Our barbarian’s player immediately distrusted her because I’d drawn her tabletop token with her back to the camera, which was an awkward feeling almost immediately returned in-game because both the barbarian and paladin aren’t hardcore RPers but they had to carry all the RP weight as they were introduced to this new character and explain that they were there to destroy a lich (both because it was the source of all the bad undead in the area, and because they’d been promised a reward—a motivation Zmija understood, as “a hungry bear will not dance.”) Beyond the usual RP awkwardness there was an additional layer of awkwardness between the characters IC as at the time, Thokk was barely wearing more than a breastplate and loincloth, while Zmija was covered neck-to-ankle despite the heat and humidity of the region. She claimed that in the culture of Zemlya, having strangers see your skin was a mark of great shame and that modesty was of paramount importance, so seeing so much of him was very off-putting and threw her off-balance for much of their initial interactions.

Getting off on the “wrong” foot with the party and pushing as hard as I could into Zmija’s quirks (the weird proverbs, sprinkling in her Zemlyan vocabulary and making a point of her being from Very Far Away with Very Different Customs) meant I went a little too hard on them at the beginning, which is partly what I’d do differently and partly why the whole thing ended up working, so it’s a weird retrospective balance. If my partymates had ever shoved (almost) any of the names or places Zmija mentioned into google, they probably would have twigged to the scheme pretty dang fast.

In reality, Zmija is not a human traveler from Zemlya, because surprise! she's actually Zsaksatyi, a Chultian Yuan-Ti Pureblood under the command of Fenthaza. She worked as a bit of a double agent/interrogator within the Fane prior to her current assignment (hence her spell list's focus on information gathering, silent communication, and manipulation); she's been fleshing out her alternate persona for years and would occasionally pretend to be a captive and be thrown in one of those cells the party was in to get relevant information from the other prisoners, or assist others that were interrogating prisoners by more direct means (via Detect Thoughts). In-universe, the language she pretends to speak is mostly made up, and something she's been working on for years at this point—it's not a fully-fleshed conlang and she only has a couple hundred words and phrases but it's enough to be consistent and believable when she sprinkles it into regular speech. Since there's no real risk of running into anyone else from Zemlya (because it doesn't actually exist), it mostly didn't matter, and since there's actual meaning behind the words she does have, in theory it would have held up to a spell like Comprehend Languages as well. Out of universe, the language she speaks is an amalgamation of my own conlang stuff (which, like the in-universe version, is very limited and not complete) and various words and phrases pulled mostly from real-world Slavic languages (russian, croatian, hungarian, etc) with a little bit of Turkish thrown in when my English-only ear felt that it fit or when I had already used a word and needed another word for the same thing. Zsaksatyi (pronounced dzahk sot-YEE) is the only name/word in the whole mess that doesn’t actually mean something somewhere, and was a combination of syllables from an online Yuan-Ti name generator that I kinda liked together. If she had ever been outed, I would probably have come up with something a little less cumbersome for me and my (almost certainly wholly monolingual) D&D group to say... but she didn’t, so Zsaksatyi it stays!

She very much looks up to Fenthaza and almost idolizes and worships her—if she ever had to choose between Fenthaza or Dendar, things might have gotten a little bit rough for her (possibly no matter which way she ultimately jumped, though I imagine Dendar's vengeance would be more immediate, if Dendar's a hands-on sort of patron). Thankfully (for her), there was very little risk of that given that the party had left Fenthaza on reasonably neutral terms (having already helped her oust Ras Nsi from his position of power in the Fane and the party having essentially marked that dungeon as “cleared”). Fenthaza had sent her to scout the Tomb of the Nine Gods and locate (or steal) an artifact known as the Black Opal Crown, which will allow the Night Mother to emerge into the world. The group actually came across the crown pretty soon after Zmija (and our other new character, a firbolg druid named Mei Ren who replaced our cleric, Amara) joined them, but the party couldn’t figure out how to get it out of the room it was in and Zsaksatyi was content that it would be safe from both our group and other adventurers there while she found her way back to the Fane (though she Sent the location to Fenthaza in case she wasn’t able to make it back). That was actually like, halfway through the session right after she’d been introduced so having her sneak off that fast would have been absolutely wild, so I kept playing her as Zmija and while there were myriad opportunities for her to be discovered—including a hallway where any non-magical non-living thing got evaporated, up to and including clothing—she never was. The fact that the only spells she ever used spell slots on were Hex, Counterspell, and Identify never really got commented upon, because prior to her joining the party we didn’t have a source for any sort of utility magic and we’d been feeling the lack for a while. She was a lot of fun to play just as Zmija once I got the hang of her, but the hidden agenda that only our DM & I knew about was an extra layer of fun, too. It would have been neat to see how the party reacted to a reveal, but unless Jim wants to take us back to Chult to actually deal with the Night Mother’s return (because without having to keep up appearances and alignments, I’m pretty sure I could have gotten that crown out of there even before the weird teleport-defying magic of the Tomb got turned off), her story is over for us—taking her outside of the setting she was designed for would be weird... plus we already have two warlocks (well, one and a half) in a party of four PCs; adding a third would be a little bit bizarre, I think.

Her more Yuan-ti features include scales down her spine and across her shoulderblades, on the backs of her hands, and on her hips and thighs—mostly in reds, oranges, and browns, but as she increases in power and connection with the Night Mother, more of them are darkening to Her blue-black; it started right at that spot between the shoulderblades where you always picture being stabbed in the back, and has expanded from there; I imagine by level 20 all of her scales would be that blue-black and may have encroached further on the more human-y leather bits, probably encroaching on her face at the last, which would make being a spy a lot more difficult (even moreso than wearing as much clothing as she already does) but I guess at level 20, do you really need to be sneaking around pretending to be human?

In direct sunlight or other very bright light, her pupils constrict to slits, which is the real reason for her heavy eye makeup—between the distraction of it and the (somewhat exaggerated) squinting that such light induces, it often goes unnoticed, as it did with her character portrait (although to be fair to my party, Alexus also has slit eyes because that’s one of the traits of elves and half elves in D&D, and also I’m not sure if they ever saw her portrait any larger than 150x150 or whatever Roll20 shows them at). Both her top and bottom canine teeth are sharper, longer, and narrower than is typical for humans, and she is careful not to grin too widely and will cover her mouth when she laughs or yawns, whether she is in disguise or not. That part I’ve never drawn though, so I can’t really point to that as something the party overlooked, heh. In hindsight, I wish I'd given her more/heavier snake features but even the official art for Yuan-Ti player characters are very light on them and getting around the differences between human and yuan-ti racials without tipping off the party was hard enough as it was—I took the 120 feet of magic-ignoring darkvision invocation to disguise the fact that she innately had darkvision, I never used my racial spells and abilities unless I was willing to “use” a spell slot on them and had another plausible way to have obtained them, the one time I got hit with a poison ability (which she was immune to) I spent a lot of time “figuring out the math” on how much HP I had to drop, etc. I also wish I’d given her darker skin, as she is supposed to be Chultian but she is significantly lighter than all the NPCs we came across. Then again, I’m as white as a sheet soaked in bleach so there’s something weird about me RPing folks of colour regardless (especially given her fake backstory, agh agh agh) so yeah. Really enjoyed her, don’t regret her, will not ever play her again rofl

In our very last session of Tomb of Annhiliation, the party—fresh off the victory over the big bad lich whose name I can never spell and his weird world-eating fetus—headed back to Port Nyanzaru via the Aarakocra village of Kir Sabal, which the previous variant of the party (of whom only Thokk remained alive and mobile enough to talk to them) had helped out significantly earlier in the campaign, unlocking a flying ritual that we were like “man we’re not coming back here if we’re gonna use it we gotta do it now” to get us the rest of the way to the port. En route, Zmija tried to leave the group and rolled a secret 15 Stealth roll... contested by 17 and 18 perception rolls from Mei Ren and Thokk, but as she wasn’t carrying much of the party’s stuff and it was the end of the campaign, they kinda just let her give some line about seeing them again in the future maybe, the Mother’s will is unknowable, etc etc. I think if Duf and Kattii didn’t know that I wanted Alexus back as badly as I did and that we were like twenty minutes (real time) away from actually getting him back, they might have considered that more suspicious than they did.

Pronunciations (and translations): (mostly C&Ped from her bio, which is the only part of her character sheet I can still access on Roll20)

Zmija Yilan: zMEE-ah yee-LAHN. Because I'm subtle as hell, that's Croatian/Russian/Ukranian (first name) and Turkish (last name) for "snake/serpent," according to the internet. What do you mean Remus Lupin is a werewolf?!

Matrymriy: mah-tRRuh mRREE (Rs are rolled). Matrymriy is Zmija's claimed patron—one of five major Zemlyashan dieties—but she'll state that she doesn't know the name that she goes by in the local dialect. That's only partly true, of course—мати мрій is Ukranian for "Mother of Dreams" (at least according to google translate), which is close enough to her patron's actual names and titles (Dendar, the Night Mother) that she can get away with it without actually raising suspicions about the true source of her powers. She'll also do that thing where if someone tries to say the name back to her she'll "correct" them by saying it exactly the same four or five times and then "give up" and accept whatever "butchered" version the speaker comes up with, except she'll do it even if they're actually saying it perfectly correctly. She may do this with her own name as well (sorry, Jim. And Duf. And Dustin. And Kattii. And Kattii's coworker, if he ever joins us and I'm still playing this character by then, lmao.) (2021 addition: and literally everyone who has a name that isn’t typically pronounced by us English-only plebians, I am so sorry I’m not better at your language)

Zsaksatyi: dzahk sot-YEE. Zmija's real name, when she isn't pretending to be a human. That doesn't mean anything as far as I know, it was just a combination of some of the syllables the random Yuan-Ti name generator was coming up with that I liked (which is also where "Itszella" was from), lol. I may end up changing it to be less cumbersome at some point, unless it comes up before then and ends up written in stone, but I'm on a bit of a time crunch for the moment.

Zemlya: zem-lyah. If pressed for more detail on where in Zemlya she's from (e.g. by someone pretending to know details about her country), her home town is Fal'shyva (fall-sheh-VAH), southeast of the capital of Hayali (HI-yah-LEE) and just north of the port city of Farazi (fah-ra-DZI), which is where she originally sailed from seven years ago. фальшива земля is Ukranian for "fake land," Hayali is Turkish for "imaginary," and Farazi is Turkish for "hypothetical," lol.

Proverbs & (approximate) Pronounciations: (if I recall correctly, asterisks indicate ones I had used, so I didn’t repeat myself too frequently)

Wziąć się w garść (zvun shih garsch): lit. take the self into the fist (polish), pull yourself together Галопом по Zemlya (gal-OH-pohm poe zem-lyah): lit. galloping across Zemlya (russian), to be hasty/haphazard. * У кого немає собаки, полює з котом (Ooh koe-hoe meh-MIGH-eh soe-BAH-kay, poe-LOO-yay koh-tome): lit. who does not have dog, hunts with cat (ukranian, original proverb is portugese), make do with what you have. Z choinki się urwałaś? (dzi hoink-E she urr-vahl-wash): lit. did you fall from a Candlenights(aka Christmas) tree? (polish), you are obviously not well-informed; are you dumb? * Mi o vuku (MEE oh voo-koo): lit. to talk of the wolf (croatian), speak of the devil. * Thalai muzhuguthal (tha-LIE MOOz-GOO-thal): lit. pour water over someone's head (tamil), cut off a relationship. * Хоть кол на голове теши (coat-coal nah gohl-ehvee teh-SHEE): lit. you can sharpen an axe on this head (russian), a very stubborn person.

Other Languages Are Hard Today, Let’s Just Proverb It In English:

Cat's Forehead (japanese): a tiny space, usually used humbly to refer to owned land. It fell between chairs (swedish): group work that everyone assumed someone else would do, and didn't get done as a result * It gives me a beautiful leg (french): fat lot of good that'll do me Drown the fish (french): avoid a subject by talking about anything and everything else, confuse the issue In a river with piranhas, the alligator swims backstroke (brazil): protect your weaknesses * Accusation always follows the cat (iraqi): it's easy to blame someone who can't defend themselves The honey only sticks to the mustache of he who licked it (arabic): he who smelt it, dealt it * A hungry bear does not dance (greek): the reward must be worth the cost (or at least exist) * The crayfish sides with the crab (korean): people who have a lot in common stay friends * If you can't live longer, live deeper (italian): get the most of your time * A spoon does not know the taste of soup (welsh): intelligence is not wisdom Examine what is said, not who speaks (arab): don't take things at face value * Turn your face to the sun and the shadows will fall behind you (new zealand): have a positive outlook He who does not travel, does not know the value of men (moorish): wide experience is gr8 Do good and throw it in the sea (arab): don't expect anything back from kindness * Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is halved (swedish): friends make things better If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together (african): strength in numbers, speed on your own.

#xellart #dungeons and dragons #original characters #zmija yilan

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lovespellstips · 5 years ago

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Black Magic Spell Caster in New Jersey

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sugar-petals · 6 years ago

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:: BTS As Your Vampire Boyfriends

warnings ⚠️ smut, blood mentions, fangs kink

♡ Includes places they gravitate towards and countries they lived in, with their current residence in italics. Imagined in a world where a vampire bite will not convert a human, but rather, where species coexist without interference.

↳ NOTE › fuck yeah, bangtan vamps! some bits are juicier, some fluffier, some funny, some heart-wrenching or romantic. you’re in for a surprise 🤓 enjoy!

⌈ Jimin ⌋ ➝ Urban Vampire. 20 years old. USA, Italy, Sweden. Dresses like your typical haute couture vanguard, complete with bow ties and fishnets. Always has the latest pop culture news from SNS to chat about. Majors in? You guessed it, fashion design. Frequents high-rise apartments of his talkative New Yorker friends, wears huge square shades to fend off sunlight whenever he can. But also just because. The new boutique around the corner? Jimin was the first one to buy that 307$ gleaming Versace choker when it opened. In gold. He might have gotten the $520 guilty pleasure loafers as well. Yes, he does own more shoes than you do. 90 pairs to be exact, it needs a separate closet. He will try on several a night even when you don’t go out and just kiss watching a movie. What on earth is the reason behind all that? It’s to look good for your human eyes only. After all, he can’t see himself in the mirror. If he’s bound to outlive you by fate, he says, at least you’ll get to see him at his very best for the time being. He condenses several of his future lives into the limited one with you. A dazzling outfit can be that diversion and solace. Changing it often makes him feel like living faster, even if he’s headed for immortality. You decided to get a couple wrist tattoo on that last September. Carpe Diem, seize the day.

So there’s a lot to do together. Bucket list after bucket list. But there’s still a routine. Jimin loves destroying his friends at Friday night bowling yet can’t help but let you win every time. No matter how much you provoke him, the guy will aim at the gutters. You actually met at bowling back then. Eleven months ago, at your bff’s b-day party where he was introduced to you as Park, inofficial Prince of Manhattan with a love for sweet blood, orgies, and fiery ladies. The orgies part turned out to be a rumor, but he does say you have sweet blood. Even if it’s bad etiquette among vampires and he knows how much of a vice it is, Jimin loves to subtly show off in front of werewolves and witchers with popular ig accounts about how affluent his vampire family is at underground runway shows. Or sometimes, even fancy dinners where he orders dish after dish for the two of you. His friends suspect it’s all to compensate for how small his canines are since Jimin dearly wishes they were pointier. You’ve assured him that it’s not just better for your neck but also oral sex in general. He’s devilishly good at that. A born lover. Small canines are cute and fashionable anyways, all other talk is bogus. Having a vampire boyfriend remains a special feat and wild ride. But it’s definitely worth it.

⌈ Yoongi ⌋ ➝ Metro Vampire. 27 years old. Japan, Nigeria, South Korea. Dressed in all black, hoodies and stretchy jeans galore. Studied dental sciences in Lagos and has quite some polished teeth himself, but hardly puts them to use nowadays because he’s been getting more Zen about it. Instead, he can’t live without the internet. It distracts him from any urges and thinking about the future, and teaches his inquisitive mind about everything he needs to know about navigating the wide human world beyond the subway. He travels from station to station in Sapporo with a ticket for eternity and the security of less sunlight, always in search for the best Wi-Fi to text you. Even after two years of dating, Yoongi is still fangs over heels in love. And, needless to say, fascinated by the antics of humankind. When you are preoccupied with work at a restaurant in the afternoon, he jobs as a casual broker with contacts to the griffin elites that run the financial market of mystical creatures.

He frequently jokes that metro vampires are in fact metrosexual. Sometimes visits casinos to kill some time and watch people out of curiosity. His magical ability has caused several power downs in nearby flat complexes — strangely, never the one he is in — but its purpose and origin remain unknown. He’s consulted a supposedly wise street demon about it once but only got a long burp as an answer. Rude. So he travels on and on with the tube. He’s not as much on the go as it always seems, however. Yoongi spends a lot of his time gaming and lounging in your basement. Pretty much naked even if you don’t have sweaty sex at 3 AM. Although, when is it not 3 AM. You’ve developed a little late-night routine there. You bring him coffee, chat, make out, he buzzes you off with your favorite vibrator, you give him slow blowjobs that he records on his phone with shaky hands. Sometimes, with rimming involved, and more action later that night. Yoongi needs to eat pussy to stay on track, otherwise, he falls apart. He’s longing to kiss your breasts all the time and you hold hands when it gets steamy. No biting, he controls himself since he took too much one time. Because he hates planes, Yoongi once crossed the Atlantic in a cargo ship’s high cube not having blood for weeks. After compelling him to suck your whole body off cause dammit I’ve missed your lips, too, vamp guy, you were iron deficient for a month. Yoongi, forever apologetic, has made it a habit to buy you vitamin juice ever since, and orders his blood online.

⌈ Jungkook ⌋ ➝ Forest Vampire. 261 years old. Canada, Bolivia, Ukraine. Dressed in a large flaxen coat and heavy boots. Owns a distant log cabin between scenic, dense firs in the Rocky Mountains. Where most of his day is all about chopping and stacking firewood to take his laser focus off blood cravings and not so random boners. He daydreams of you moaning in just about every hot position possible. Sometimes pleasuring yourself or grinding on his cock. And your fucking scent. It’s what really makes him hard. And tremendously flustered. He could be 261 million years old, it would still catch him off guard to suddenly remember the smell of your sweat and hair. The first time experiencing it, Jungkook shortly blacked out and salivated on the ground for 15 minutes. Human pheromones are just about every forest vampire’s favorite addiction. Out of all BTS members, he is the most sensitive to light or artificial noise and instinct-reliant, so he tries to be cautious. Regardless, always hoping that you fill his mind with your red-hot image. This guy is so whipped — at this point, he can sell a portion of the wood he chops daily and still heat the oven for weeks with the rest.

Nature has everything he desires. Silence, vastness. It’s peaceful. A lot of animals roam the area. It calms his fantasies to some degree. He’s spent many decades in the Amazon rainforest, it’s no surprise. He likes to watch deer and talks to the occasional satyr past midnight. Doesn’t own a lot of money, but knows how to prepare a hearty meal for you when you visit him. That’s what makes JK feel like a million dollars. And once the plate is empty: Time for carnal sex. He can fuck for two hours, one even on a bad day. When he drinks from you, the sheer neck stimulation through sucks alone can make you approach orgasm. With a little help from his fingers on your clit, boy is he gonna blow your mind. This shit will teleport you into alien dimensions. He won’t aim for anything less. Whatever his saliva does, it infuses you with serotonin for two, three days after, and your friends back home know with one glance: Cabin guy did it again. You’ll both be lightheaded and covered in hickeys by the end of your encounters if the weather is particularly indoorsy and you don’t go fishing. He wishes he’d never have to come to a city because of the bustling streets and lack of forest fairies that soothe his mind. But sometimes, buying new clothes is due. You go to a comparatively manageable shopping mall after rush hour where you can’t keep your hands off each other in the dressing rooms. Life with JK won’t ever bore you, that’s guaranteed. The cherry on top: He wields an unregistered type of magic that can manipulate all kinds of water streams — he’s created a little creak beside his cabin and named it after you.

⌈ Seokjin ⌋ ➝ Cottage Vampire. 311 years old. Switzerland, Morocco, and Mongolia. Dresses all cozy with big sweaters and trench coats. Jin sells self-grown fruit and vegetables at the market downtown on Saturdays and Sundays. With vivid gestures and plenty of small talk topics up his sleeve, he befriends just about any stranger with two minutes spare time to talk about cheese, chocolate, and the notoriously high prices. Jin is among the most popular stall owners because of the many discounts he grants literally anybody. The Swiss way of very neat, organized, and especially neutral living appeals to Jin who has seen far too many messy wars go down since he was turned into a vampire. You didn’t believe it at first: By a British royal named Hamish back in 1708, inheriting him a magical ability to learn languages particularly fast so his Swiss German is perfected to a T. Jin is an utmost textbook rural sweetheart of the village. He takes care of the cottage with you like clockwork. Watering the herbs, painting walls here and there, cleaning the kitchen, always saying hi to the neighbors. Drinking tea on the terrace, with some cheesecake and cream on the fork, watching the cornfields sway in the wind is the good life. Simple, but meaningful.

There are a lot of lively and busy little blackbirds around the house joining you to pick up some crumbs, and Jin turns on the radio to play old-fashioned folk music of whatever Alp orchestra was recorded thirty years ago. The cake is gone all too soon, and the sun sets. You’re happy. Jin is a loyal and moral vampire who has adopted a vegetarian diet ten years ago and didn’t look back once. No cheating! Even if the market sells a lot of tasty ham and sausages. He’s sworn off that. After 311 years, even vampires start to think about their diet. A lot of fellow vamps in the area think he’s one strange guy, but Jin won’t bother. He gets all of his blood from a nearby hospital for a hefty price because he doesn’t want to drink from you all the time no matter how much you ask him. Sex is a better pastime. Chocolate lover Kim got a big dick and decades worth of time developing how to use it. Jin, when he does nibble at you, also has a very pleasant bite that doesn’t leave marks or just about any kind of bruise. He doesn’t want to tell you his secret because apparently, an old and rather nit-picky basilisk told him. Somewhere in a dusty attic of a Marrakesh craft store selling lamps and the most splendid of perfumes, 170 years ago. If he spills the beans, the special trick is dissolved. So... hush. Some things are better left top secret when it comes to basilisk magic.

⌈ Taehyung ⌋ ➝ Museum Vampire. 750 years old. Paris, London, and Sydney. Always dons crisp vintage tuxedos in the muted, heavily tailored style of the 1920s. He’s gotten attached to that era. Unsurprisingly, museum vampires are truly nostalgic creatures. Perhaps, also a bit melancholic at one point. Immortality is a two-edged sword. So, Taehyung clings to everything that endures the times. Statues, rustic vases, coin collections, preserved tunics, temple relics, especially fossils of all kind. His favorite place to roam at night is the museum shop or department for Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Antiquities. And indeed, it is the Louvre, what other museum could it be. Taehyung has mastered a convenient invisibility spell at the whooping age of 142 by chance after sneaking around the graveyard of Montmartre, trying to blend in with some friendly ghosts who taught him a trick or two. So the CCTV and guards don’t pick up on him unless he manipulates objects displayed in the exhibitions.

Which he feels tempted to. But Taehyung prefers to meet you in a snug alley café at dawn. The one where they don’t serve garlic-heavy dishes. You’ve already seen so much of the museum together in the course of a 4-year relationship. And he can’t possibly dick you down in the gallery of Dutch and Italian masters no matter how horny either of you is, mind you. You’d get anemic fast if you’d be sucking and fucking all the time anyways, and Taehyung really isn’t down to take a lot of blood from you. A little, as you always call it, prick’n’lick is what he usually goes for when you have time to meet in your flat. And maybe a deep, warm creampie to top it off because he knows that his semen does some stuff to you that only vampire magic can cause. You’ll be giddy and talk complete nonsense about Dadaism, Kahlo, and Kandinsky for three hours. Pregnant you can’t get since human with human, vampire with vampire is how the math goes. But extremely high, apparently. So, prick’n’lick. Your favorite activity. Talk about oral fixation: Vampire Tae has a strong obsession with strawberry ice cream. And... caressing your body, seriously. He is into some major VDA (Vampiric Displays of Affection). Believes that in your past life, you were the grand dame Mona Lisa herself. And a flapper. He writes poems about that and keeps them in a huge diary in the cellar of the Louvre. Some bittersweet, some sensual, some full of adoration. You treasure your time with him, always.

⌈ Hoseok ⌋ ➝ Castle Vampire. 1827 years old. UK (Scotland), Greece, China. Dresses exactly the way you think a dapper castle vamp is suited up. Ruffles, tight pants, gloves, large hats with feathers, tons of Italian lace, even slightly heeled shoes with pointed toes. Has been alive when Sparta was still a thing, saw what went down in the uproar of the actual French Revolution in passing, met Marilyn Monroe, almost got on the Titanic as a passenger, but has enjoyed the Rennaissance the most so far so there’s that. He lived in forts, churches, and even a small barn for some parts of his life until deciding to buy himself a fucking hilltop palace where you can live together. Because lavish castles are, ultimately, what appeals to Hoseok the most, and there is definitely enough space for all of your interests ... and sex toys. Anyway. How did all of that begin. So: The two of you met at a medieval exhibit in Perth where they displayed armors and pieces of weaving. Fell for each other, bonded over a kaleidoscope of shared interests, history knowledge in particular. Hoseok enjoys conversations about mythology, he loves that. And binging a lot of shows on Netflix. Gotta bridge the old and the new. Not that he doesn’t own a giant home theatre with perfect sound system. Maybe he just wants to cuddle up with you in bed and sob when another character dies together so the entire castle staff will hear. No worries though, they’re used to it.

Netflix aside: Aristocracy makes him feel at home. The sunshine regularly hosts interspecies balls with flamboyant masquerade themes so everyone can show up how they’re comfortable. That concerns particularly the slightly introverted elves and shapeshifters from downtown. The last huge ball went under the motto ‘The Glamor of Old Hollywood’ and you dressed up as Rita Hayworth and Fred Astaire, dancing all night and plundering the buffet. Hell of a good time. National holidays are holy to vampire Hoseok and basically equal date night. Given his high sex drive, there can’t be enough special occasions either way. To ride his thighs, his face, mark each other down forever until the pants are a little too tight at the damn front. The guy gets shaky knees at the smallest sight of a delicious pulsing vein no matter his century-long chance to accustom himself with human necks, so you agreed to go by a schedule — #SuckingSaturdays only — and you wear thick scarves. Which fits the moody UK weather anyways. The Scots really dig Hoseok in case you’ve been wondering. You can bet Hoseok is the star of Scottish twitter.

⌈ Namjoon ⌋ ➝ Mountain Vampire. 3008 years old. Nepal, Kenya, Peru. You tease him about wearing a long, strangely-always-white cloak and staff because it gives him the semblance of a beardless twen Gandalf. He smokes a pipe, too, but not in your presence anyways. Whatever is in there... seems to elevate him. Literally. Namjoon can levitate. There’s no other way he could use in order to visit you in the first place. A beautiful, abandoned pagoda seated on top of a snowy crest is his makeshift home, inaccessible to everyone but him. Only a secluded place like this is suitable for his ancient kind. To meet you in a warmer and more human-friendly environment, he will elegantly descend from his premises to get together with you in the town located at the base of the mountain. As many nights as possible. Always with a self-made present. Like freshly assembled tea leaves or a little talisman he carved from a piece of wood. Found on one of his long evening walks. He knows what eternity feels like best, that your life is but a glimpse compared to his, so every moment will count. He’ll make it right, no worries. It’s Kim Namjoon, taking care of things. You can always rely on him.

On all levels, he never ceases to surprise. Vampire Joon has surpassed the principles of ingestion, sleep, and a sense of temperature. Hell, even finances. He simply breathes and exists — and most importantly: reads for hours — without any external efforts. Even the Middle Ages didn’t leave a single wrinkle on his face. And he is still the best experienced person to share a bed with. No sexual technique is foreign to him, and post-sex spooning conversations are immensely entertaining. Namjoon has a lot of philosophical thoughts on human-vampire relations and met countless historical figures. He’s also befriended the Yeti at one point, resulting in quite a few hilarious narrations that he will retell on request every time you meet. And he makes them funnier every night. Because Namjoon thinks your laugh is prettier than every sunrise and sunset he’s seen around the world combined, on his every voyage. The most interesting part is: He doesn’t drink any blood even if he has fairly sharp fangs that you often catch yourself staring at for minutes. He still seems more invested in making you cum. With sweet words, brainteasers, and wisdoms spoken into your ears quietly. He’s a walking riddle himself. As expected, who are we kidding. Namjoon, no matter the fleeting centuries he has seen, is a gem and all yours for a lot of nights to come.

◇ castle: Château de la Mothe-Chandeniers (South-East France, 13th century)

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sugaxjpg · 6 years ago

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paradise 17; m

⤷ “Welcome to Paradise 17, the immersive virtual reality of your most private fantasies. Please, to begin your pleasurable experience, click ‘proceed’ and pick your partner.”

✓ Couple: Taehyung x Reader | VirtualReality!AU

✓ Filed under: smut

✓ Look out for: dom!tae; overstimulation; praising; voyeurism; cock worship; spanking; vibrators... there’s also a mirror on the ceiling because science

✓ Words: 15,217

Author’s Note: Do you ever feel a feeling that doesn’t exist? That was my entire experience writing this fic. Hope you guys like it, because I even made a gif-cover for it.

The first time you heard about Immersive Virtual Reality, you thought that it could be the biggest breakthrough of the century. It was something straight out of a futuristic movie; an invention that even the most intelligent of programers could only aspire to achieve; or perhaps a trope that had been worn-out by repetitive anime remakes and hollywood producers. It was too good — too complex — to be true, and that was precisely why it worked so well.

There had been a huge fuss amongst online communities much longer before the devices hit the common sphere of customers. Forums whispered of a secret project of a big gaming company, supposedly a helmet that could induce a dream-like state, in which the individual was completely absorbed in an artificial, parallel world. Lo and behold: one of the most predominant tech names in the world — Idol — came out with their almighty IMVIT helmet soon after, and the promise of an “overwhelming new experience” for gamers worldwide.

Of course, it didn’t take long for humans do what they do best: turn something innocent into porn. In less than a year after Idol’s IMVIT helmet had hit the markets, the so-called Paradise 17 — with its embarassing slogan: the future has come — was already one of the top five most sold platforms, rapidly climbing up towards the first position. From what you had gathered, it worked as a hotel-like interface, in which you could mold an insubstantial partner into your perfect sexual fantasy, and then be taken into a personalized room, where the magic would take place. There were supposedly a lot of steps involved, for the system wished to reach as close as possible to perfection, while making sure that the entire experience was both pleasurable and safe — words from its website, not your own.

You told yourself that you wouldn’t succumb into the temptation that the program offered, but, of course, those had been mere superficial rationalizations. You lasted precisely three months — quite a long time, if you were to be completely honest — before you purchased the simulation. To your defense, it was one hell of a deal: since they had been getting ready to launch a new version of it, you managed to get it for 75% off in a stock clearing. Besides, it was only a five minute wait for the download.

The future had, indeed, come.

“Simulation fully downloaded. Connect your IMVIT helmet to your computer.”

Obediently, you did as the program requested, and watched as your system gradually recognized the device. From an outsider’s perspective, you probably looked like a lunatic — completely wrapped up by the adumbration of your bedroom, with only the phantasmagoric light of your computer to illuminate your expectant features; the rapid movement of your fingers against the keyboard, and your eyes over the lines on the screen. To be fair, you didn’t feel much different, and your position only worsened as the connection was concluded.

Next to you, your helmet — you always thought it looked like a motorcyclist's apparatus — lit up in pallid shades of emerald and yellow. Your computer, asymmetrically, turned off for an instant, and the sound of the fans started vibrating within its structure. Once it illuminated again, you were greeted with the logo of Paradise 17 in beautiful, golden cursive letters.

“Welcome to Paradise 17, the immersive virtual reality of your most private fantasies.” Could be read underneath it — bright pink characters against an alabastrine background. Through your speakers, came a robotic female voice, which you quickly turned off. Even her automatic timbre sounded a bit judgemental, but perhaps you were just paranoid. “Please, to begin your pleasurable experience, click ‘proceed’ and pick your partner.”

You did as it said, and watched as the screen morphed into a completely different image. Unanticipatedly hesitant, you swallowed dry, feeling as expectancy started to burn like wildfire at the bottom of your stomach.

With cautious movements, you leaned in and started to read. A second later, your eyes were growing wide as you saw the endless selection of categories. The “partners”, as they were called, were separated in criteria that went from race and gender, and all the way to a five-page quiz about your kinks and sexual preferences, rating them from “not hot” to “super hot” in a very cringe-worthy scale.

The answering section of Paradise 17 had been overlooked by other users, and the internet forums had forgotten to comment on how long and obnoxiously detailed the inquiries could be. You scrolled through those quizzes and randomized sections for what appeared to be hours — when, it reality, it was probably around fifteen minutes — until, at last, you found yourself facing the final page. On the screen, it could be read: these are your three finalists, sorted by your answers and preferences. Please, think about your choice, for there will be no possibility to switch during the simulation.

That page was much cleaner than the previous ones, and presented exactly what it had promised: on it, three pastel-colored pictures and, underneath each one, the specifics about the guy, and how he would behave in the simulation — from a quick look, you could see that they had all been classified under “strictly dominant” in bold crimson letters, which had been one of the first choices you had to make. With a subdued hum of interest, you stared at the options, and started to read what they had to offer.

Firstly, Seokjin. The primordial thought that crossed your mind once you met his picture was that they must have based it off a real life model, because there was no way that a computer program could come up with that level of handsomeness by its own devices. Just like the other two photographies, the image was quite simple — against a anemic blue background, he stood, disheveled black hair and semi-parted lips, his mouth vaguely stained by a shade of pink. Under his picture, it claimed that he was especially fond of voyeurism and bondage. Interesting — but the second wasn’t really your cup of tea.

Then, Taehyung. One thing that made him stand out had been the shirt he was wearing — black as midnight, while the others used white ones. The choice of wardrobe contrasted against the clear strands of his blonde hair, which fell down his face like golden cascades; mingling harmoniously with the lackluster blush that dwelled upon his cheeks. Under, his interests listed spanking and overstimulation. That was something you could deal with. Gladly.

At last, Jimin. His features were somewhat softer than the other options, but his gaze was even more piercing, sending electrical charges through your veins the second that you met the profoundness of his irises. You could not tell how a computer-generated man could look so good, but, then again, that was the kind of awe-inspiring perfection you would face in that simulation, so you should probably prepare yourself for it. It said that he was a fan of praising and cock worship. Which was nice… very nice.

Still, there was a decision to be made, and three fantastic options standing right before you — so, you did what you had to do, and went straight for the superficial desires of the flesh prison that you called a body. You would never admit that to anyone else, but the only element that pushed you towards a choice had been the... size difference. If your simulated body was going to have some fun, you might as well go out out.

With another deep, tremulous breath, you selected your partner.

How should TAEHYUNG call you? We advise not to use real names, or share any sort of personal information.

Several fake names crossed your mind, but none of them seemed to be a good pick for the circumstances presented to you. Your eyes trailed off onto the details of your room, attempting to find some sort of inspiration amongst scattered books and random objects, but all that came to you were overly-complex character names, or simply ones that you didn’t feel like would be suited for that pornographic scenario — Cordelia, Constance, Galadriel, Ophelia… Elizabeth Bennet? You didn’t even like Pride and Prejudice. You should pick some new books for a change, that was getting ridiculous.

At last, your gaze paused on a vase at the corner of your cubicle. Many weeks prior to your impulsive decision to purchase Paradise 17, one of your friends had gifted you with a rose for your birthday — before such a burning shade of scarlet, now a despondent tinge of purple, withered and dried up, barely standing in a vase of yellowed water. Gross. It was not in the best condition but, hey, your mental state wasn’t much better. It would have to serve.

Eager to get those steps done with, your fingers quickly typed “Rose”, and clicked to the next page before you could second guess your resolution. It wasn’t as if it was a life or death situation — you were about to have simulated sex, for fuck’s sake, not receive a nobel prize. Your name didn’t really matter.

Finally, pick your context. Paradise 17 is a sexual roleplaying simulator, please play your part accordingly. The storylines compatible with TAEHYUNG ar—

Now, that was a decision you did not expect to face. In an instant of startlement, you ran through your thoughts in a failed attempt to recall anything about that part of the program, but you could not remember anyone in the forums mentioning that Paradise 17 was about roleplaying — but, then again, you did select that kink before, so maybe that was it.

You ended up going for a simple one: you had just come back from a long time away, and Taehyung had booked a hotel room for the two of you. You didn’t believe you’d be capable of roleplaying anything much more complex than that — like the sugar daddy or teacher/student dynamics that the platform had suggested — especially when you were already so nervous about it. It was your first time trying it out, after all, you might want to ease your way in. Kind of.

Anticipation controlled your movements as you clicked for the next step, only to be met with a warning. The letters were white against a black background, quite a striking view when compared to the page’s clear and minimalistic style, and also with everything you had been presented so far.

Curious, you started reading: “Warning: Your session in Paradise 17 will go on for as long as you, the user, decides. Please be aware that prolonged exposure to Immersive Virtual Reality is not advised, and should not exceed five hours at a time. Do you wish to set a time limit, or decide later when to cease the simulation? The program will warn you half an hour before you reach the advised period of immersion.”

You hummed in an instant of thought, then clicked your preference. Decide later.

“Please enter your safe word. When spoken, the simulation will cease, and your progress will be saved. We advise you to use a word that would not come up normally during this context.”

Cinnamon. You had no idea why it had been the first one to reach your senses, but it would have to do the job for now — hell, you were winging it so far, there was not much that you had to lose.

“Your safe word is: CINNAMON. Confirm?”

Yes.

“Please, ROSE, review your data before we begin. Thank you for choosing Paradise 17, and we hope you enjoy your experience.”

With a tranquil suspire, you did as the program requested, and looked the list of your preferences. Besides your name, your safe word, and your partner’s data, you received the kinks that had resulted from your long session of quiz-answering — besides a dominating companion, you apparently enjoyed overstimulation, praising, voyeurism, cock worship, spanking and, as the cherry on top, vibrators. That was quite something, and you could tell you were in for a treat.

You chuckled, impressed at the agglomeration of kinks; some of which you had never even considered in depth before. “Seems about right,” you mumbled to yourself, then clicked the next page. Suddenly, you were looking forward to that “overwhelming new experience” a lot more.

“Check-in successfully finished. You may now place your IMVIT helmet.”

Oh. It was done.

Anxiety hit you like a punch in the gut, but you forced yourself to keep your movements under a clear veil of control. Like you did for other simulations, you picked up your IMVIT device, making sure that the long cable that connected it to the computer would not get stuck anywhere, and walked towards your bed. You made yourself comfortable, placing your back against the headboard, and took a look around to see if there were any objects to take care of — it wasn’t common, but sometimes users would report some muscular action in real life, and the last thing you needed was to slap a lamp mid virtual intercourse. When every particularity was revised, you moved your hair behind your ears, and placed the helmet on your head. Your vision went immediately dark, and your fingers promptly started searching for the button on the right side of the large equipment. Once you found it, you pressed it, and the small screen before your eyes turned on. The brightness induced you to blink a few times, making the clear cyan letters almost impossible to read at first.

Initiating program. You will feel a numbness in your limbs as you get into the simulation. Do not turn off your IMVIT helmet during the immersion phasis.

You inhaled profoundly, trying to calm down your nerves. Progressively, you started to be deprived of sensation through your body, almost as if you were starting to fall asleep — starting from your toes, and then working its way up.

The pixelated screen withered into obscurity, and the sound was activated. First, there was only static, then the auditory commands begun to resound inside your head.

“Welcome to Paradise 17,” the previous robotic voice echoed all around you, sending waves of excitability through your figure — or, at least, what hadn’t been numbed by the system. You knew these steps were necessary to fully submerge you in the simulation, but you couldn’t help but feel as if they were a bit more creepy then they should be. Morbid, almost. “You will be taken to your room shortly. Please, enjoy your stay.”

Your eyelids were heavy and, even against your best attempts, they closed. Sensation only lingered in the line above your neck, and it was rapidly diminishing, morphing into a vague trembling against your skin before, at last, disappearing completely. You always compared that part of the process to a bathtub full of anesthesia, in which you gradually slipped down into — submerging your abdomen, shoulders, jaw; and then all the way to the top of your head.

For the last time, you heard the rhythm of your breathing, and then there was only silence. The next inhale you took was already inside the program.

Abruptly, your eyes opened, and you found yourself inside the wonders of Paradise 17. The brusque change of atmosphere was always the most intimidating part of the process — in the breviloquent space between two heartbeats, you went from feeling nothing to absolutely everything. The sensation of your body was as realistic as ever and, if it wasn’t for the change of wardrobe, you could have claimed that you were still out of the virtual world.

Looking down, you noticed you had been wearing a silk robe — nothing beyond a thin, translucent veil of crimson — and, underneath it, a pair of lingerie that probably would’ve coasted your entire salary to acquire in real life. With a quick running of your hands through your hair, you noticed that the makeover had been complete, and you could only guess that your simulated self was also wearing a full-face of makeup. You knew that the system would go the extra mile to make you feel sexier than usual, but that just felt a bit weird to experience, if you were going to be frank.

Then again, it was probably your anxiety speaking.

You had been transported to a long, dimly-lit hallway. The forums were right about something: it felt like every hotel you had ever been to, and that only made the experience much more engaging. From the ugly carpet beneath your feet to the way that the corridor seemed to go on forever, bleeding into the darkness of the night; to the numerous doors that stood shut on either side of the walls — all of them the same: painted in an ivory shade, with beautifully-crafted golden handles — you found yourself in a flawless replication of reality.

The only passage that was accessible to you had been the one in front of your flabbergasted silhouette. From the parted door came a blast of the most profound tinge of magenta you had ever seen, casting its hypnotic, triangle-shaped glow all over the floor; and bathing your flesh with its phosphorescence. You could hear vague shuffles beyond it, and the distant sound of music and cars, many meters beyond your floor. Other than that, absolute silence.

From the other end of the hall, came the exclamation of a bell, signaling that the elevator — that you had barely noticed before — had arrived at your floor. Its golden lambency sliced through the thickness of the stygian atmosphere, and a person entered the hallway with hurried footsteps. Instead of what you expected, the stranger that came from it wasn’t your partner, but a short, middle-aged woman.

In the midst of the corredor’s shadows, you could see that she was wearing a maid’s outfit, and didn’t seem very thrilled about it. She walked hastily towards you, expression neutral — which, for her, made her seem as if she was pissed off at something. Not that you could judge: you, too, suffered from Resting Bitchface Syndrome.

Her voice was high-pitched as slightly nasaled as she spoke out. “Rose?” she asked as she stopped a few meters away from where you stood, placing her hands behind her back. Thin, rectangular-shaped glasses slid from the bridge of her nose, and her image seemed to be the most off-putting fragment of that world.

You didn’t know if she was part of the simulation, or if she was an administrator logged in the system. Either there was a woman like that laying in a dark room and guiding people through their off-putting sexual fantasies, or the programmers had willingly coded that character into a bitter person. Frankly, both options were equally bizarre, and you chose not to dive deeper into that inner debate.

Also, the fact that you were in full-lingerie in the middle of a dark hallway didn’t make you feel any more at ease. “Yes, that’s— That’s me,” you responded, a bit startled. The fake name sounded so off-putting coming from her lips, and you hoped that it would not be constantly used during the simulation.

“At your service.” She nodded. Her movements seemed a bit too unnatural for your taste, so perhaps she wasn’t a real person. You didn’t really want to find out. “Welcome to Paradise 17. Is this your first time using the server?”

“Yes,” you replied, expectant.

Once again, she agreed with a movement of her head. “Understood.” She signaled towards the half-open door. “This is your room, as you might have guessed. Remember: this is a roleplaying simulator, so play your part accordingly. Do you have your safe word in mind?”

Her speech caught you a bit off guard, but you managed to answer rather expeditiously. “Yes, I remember it.”

“Understood,” she repeated, then took a step behind. The purple light did her no good: it only made her eyes seem even more sulken, thin lips being pierced together in an instant of thought. “Your chosen partner, Taehyung, is ready and waiting for you,” she continued, “and you may start whenever you deem comfortable, simply open the door and the simulation will resume. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” you spoke, those two words feeling heavy against your tongue. Not that you had the time to add anything else.

As quickly as the mysterious maid appeared, she vanished into the twilight of the corridor, walking rapidly toward the elevator’s open doors. You stood there, somewhat stupefied at the odd interaction, and watched as the metallic cubicle closed with a low purring of its motor, then moved up to the following floor.

Well, that was... unexpected. Surely not something you wished to think about for any longer than necessary.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the confused thoughts that surrounded your mind, and reached out for the golden handle. The metal was cool beneath your touch, and you had to recognize the perfection that the simulation provided — according to some programmers, the physical sensation of objects was the harder one to evoke, but Paradise 17 seemed to have no issue in regards to that. Which was good, because, honestly, the experiences of the flesh were the majority of its offers.

In a brusque decision, you made the call that you would not allow for your performance anxiety to get the best of your actions — it was just a simulation, and you had nothing to worry about. Paradise 17 was just another parallel universe, and Taehyung was just another pre-programmed character. You were there to have fun, and not have an existential crisis. You’d be okay. You’d live.

You hoped.

So, with that in mind, you opened the door.

Your room was both what you had expected — based on the few preview pictures on the Paradise 17 website — and a bit more. It was by no means ostentatious, but it had enough details that it would feel much fancier than it was; certainly something you would not be able to afford in real life.

In the very centre of it, stood a large, round, king-sized bed and; by each side, white nightstands held the weight of frail lights. Crepuscular silk sheets enveloped the mattress, bathed by the vague lambency of neon; and you could sense the vague aroma of something sweet dancing in the atmosphere.

Nevertheless, those were not the important aspects of that space. You did not care for the deep purple curtains that ornamented the walls, nor for the mirror by your side that made you catch a glimpse of your own barely-covered figure. Your attention had been funneled to the large window that practically covered the wall opposite from where you stood — and the man that looked at the city below.

Behind his figure, the prismatic city lights scintillated like a million constellations. There was a thin line of turquoise phosphorescence that delineated his body, but, other than that, he was pure shadow — a black hole amidst a vivacious galaxy. Many meters beneath your secluded room, the muffled symphony of cars and effervescent conversations attempted to reach for your senses, but barely made through the silence that bloomed within that structure. It was far too perfect to be real and, yet, it immersed you so fully that you forgot, even for an instant, that you were inside an manmade world.

With the pushing of your fingertips, the door closed behind you. The man — Taehyung — appeared to get startled at the clicking noise, for his head quickly snapped away from the image of the kaleidoscopic city, and towards you. Taehyung had his hands deep in the pockets of his cream-colored suit once he turned around, his eyebrows slightly elevated in a muted inquisition, barely visible past the cascades of his soft hair strands. Once you saw his face, you could swear your heart forgot how to beat for an instant — he was absolutely handsome, ethereal almost, and his picture did him no justice.

Nervousness forgotten, you allowed for a dim smile to germinate upon your lips. “Hey,” you almost whispered, voice a lot softer than your usual timbre. You felt a bit stupid saying that, but it wasn’t as if you had a long line of groundbreaking introductions to choose from.

Taehyung’s eyes were wide in a mixture of surprise and nostalgia. “Rose,” he called your fake name with so much fluidity that you wished you could change it to your real one. The system had forgotten to notify you that the man had just enchantingly deep timbre, and that could be a problem — you would not respond for your own actions. “You showed up.”

You nodded, pushing your legs to move in his direction. The atmosphere felt thick, your lungs were barely able to suck the dense air in. “I did, Taehyung.”

The man suspired. “You look beautiful, my love,” he spoke underneath his breath, eyes glued to the movements of your figure. Against the blazing, yet scarce, lights of your room, his blonde strands of hair had decayed into a shade of pallid pink, and you loved it even more. Taehyung looked angelic, in the most demonic of ways. “I didn’t think you’d find me here.” He paused. “I didn’t think you wanted to.”

Dry — your throat felt so damn dry. If you could, you would skip that roleplaying part and jump straight to the action; especially now that you had seen him in “flesh”, and all the eroticism that encompassed his figure had completely asphyxiated you. Next time, you made a mental note to not go for any sort of roleplaying. “I did. I wanted — I want — it,” you responded slowly, walking in his direction. Your thoughts were disorganized, anarchic. “I... want you.”

Talk about being direct. Well, you had never been the most subtle person ever, anyways. It’s not as if you should get self-conscious about a simulation judging your eagerness to get inside his pants.

Taehyung smirked, pleased by your reaction. There was no way that man had been generated by a computer: he was so alluring that you could swear you had seen him somewhere before — perhaps in a renaissance painting, where diaphanous brushstrokes could ever so precisely construct the symmetry of features and actions. “I know that,” he verbalized — and of course he would be cocky too, because that was the essential ingredient when it came to cooking the Ruin-You recipe. “This is all for me, isn’t it?”

And of course, he was talking about your clothing — or lack thereof. “Yes,” you agreed. With a final step, you found yourself standing right before him — so close that, at every new inhale, you thought your chest would hit his. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, and felt as he placed his own on your hips. His skin was warm and, against yours, it felt like it was burning, setting your soul aflame. “All for you, Taehyung,” you repeated.

Taehyung seemed to take a moment to dwell in your words, caliginous eyes continuously flickering downwards, attempting to catch glimpses of your body; explore the valley between your breasts. “Well, as much as you know I adore to see you like this...” he started, voice barely above a suspire. Beneath the fabric of his suit, you could feel his defined muscles moving as he massaged your body; squeezing your ass lightly. “I prefer when you’re wearing nothing.”

You looked up, meeting his tenebrous irises — vortexes of greed and lust, sucking you into a world you could not comprehend. As the words left you mouth, they did not feel like your own. “We can change that,” you proposed.

He hesitated. Just as you thought that Taehyung would respond, with his reddish lips opening to form a silent syllable, the darkness of his gaze deepened into a level that you could not fully grasp. The man’s eyelashes quivered lightly as his eyes met the delineation of your lips, and there they stayed. He leaned in.

Taehyung’s answer, instead, came in the form of a passionate kiss, and a subdued groan against your mouth.

His large hands departed from your lower body and, subsequently, cupped your cheeks as his lips parted in a warm welcome, a soft sigh coming from his throat once he felt your immediate reciprocation. Air was stuck inside your lungs as Taehyung kissed you with all he had, tasting the nectar of your lips, succumbing into you. His kiss passed a clear, palpable message: I want to have you all for myself. And I don’t want excuses.

And, fuck, you wanted him too.

That was why you didn’t stop him when his hands started trailing towards your clavicles, just to hook around the hem of your robe and pull it down your shoulders — a second later, it was merely a pool of translucent silk around your ankles. The fresh air embraced your figure then, and you could fully feel the asperous sensation of the man’s suit against your body.

Annoyed at the abundance of fabric in between you, you were quick to move your fingers to take off his own clothing. In due time, his suit jacket was already accompanying your robe on the hardwood floor, and your hands were using his blood-red tie to pull him closer to you, silently begging for more.

You knew that the hotel room was fake, but your experiences were very, very real. There was no way to mask the excitement that had taken over your limbs, nor the lewd expectation that had started to accumulate at the bottom of your abdomen. Taehyung knew exactly how to kiss you — he knew which pacing to follow, when to caress your tongue with his own; when to depart from your lips so he could meet the luscious skin of your exposed neck. He had been, quite literally, handmade for you, and you adored every second of it.

The man departed from your mouth, and navigated his lips towards your cheek, kissing the spot with unbearable softness. Taehyung suspired frequently, drowning in his own reverence at your form, as he trailed a path down your neck; biting as sucking your flesh in-between the wet touches of his mouth. “Love,” he called, his hoarse voice sending vibrations through your body, “Let’s be patient, we have the entire night for ourselves.”

Your only response had been a sigh, for you were aware that you could not speak anything else, even less play your part well. Many years before, you had been removed from the theater club for a reason — you could not act to save your life. And, frankly, you were in no position to do so.

As you would soon understand, though, Taehyung was everything but patient.

Sooner than you would admit, his dahlia-colored tie was on the ground, and your hands were fumbling to open the buttons of his white cotton shirt. Taehyung wasted no time either — his slender fingers were quick to undo the clasp of your bra, and throw it somewhere else as they moved to cup your breasts, to press them together. You whined at the contact, feeling as your arousal begun to present itself between your thighs.

In an unexpected action, Taehyung wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your body closer to his, grunting in delight as soon as your nude chest met his own, and the hardness of his cock was felt at the bottom of your abdomen; poking against the light fabric of your underwear. The mere sensation was enough to make you sigh, your hands trailing downwards to meet the hem of his trousers in a blind search for his member.

The tingle of his kiss still lingered on your lips when his mouth, once again, came crashing down against yours; taking your breath away and making your legs weaken at the brusque, hunger-filled contact. That kiss was dramatically different, for his movements had turned much harsher, filled with impatience and lasciviousness. You couldn’t say that you disliked it — in fact, you probably liked it a bit more than you should.

The separation of your mouths pushed a frustrated exclamation out of your throat. With firm hands, Taehyung guided you downwards, sitting you on the edge of the spacious bed — your hips bounced as you met the velvety mattress; your eyes darting up to look at him once again.

Whatever complaint that you had started to construct within your mind came crumbling down once you met his expression. The picture the program had presented could never do any justice to the ethereal beauty that stood before you; the redness of his tongue as it came out to wet his plump lips, the thickness of his eyelashes as he lethargically blinked, taking in the desire of your form. His white shirt had been opened halfway through, and you instantly met the outline of his muscles through the thin fabric; his golden-kissed skin shining alongside the colorful phosphorescence of the room.

Taehyung could have been just a product of your digitally-enhanced imagination for all you cared, but, then and there, he was made of flesh and blood; wrapped around the purest curtain of ravenousness. Furthermore, with the new angle, so came the image of his own throbbing member, now much closer to you.

Your eyes fell to his erection, mouth watering— he was already hard, as you had felt aforetime, and the outline of his cock pressed strongly against his pants. As ephemeral as that instant of amazement was, it showed you just how wise you had been to base your decision on the size difference.

Ephemeral because, as you soon noticed, Taehyung seemed to have the same focus as you did, and was quick to cover your view. Before you could even construct a basic thought about what was given to you, the man cupped himself over his clear pants, groaning once he experienced the sensation his hand provided. “You’re making me so horny, baby,” he moaned out, biting down on his lower lip. “I can barely hold myself back.”

With exhausted limbs and parted eyes, you stared up as he started to stroke himself over his cream-colored trousers, hissing at his own neediness. The image was so erotic that you swore you could faint at the spot — luckily, though, your simulated version had a bit more endurance than that. “Then don’t,” you vocalized, your own tone muffled by your concupiscence.

Your actions — from the movement of your fingers to the words that left you — felt alien to you. Not because the simulation was bad, god knows it was amazing, but because you felt as if you had reached for a level of freedom that real life could never give you. Perhaps that was why Paradise 17 was so popular: besides your fantasies, it was also permeated with the possibility of acting out without fear of social consequences. You had full control of the scene, and it molded itself to fit your wishes. It was far too tempting for you to overlook it.

Regardless, those philosophical meditations could wait. There were far more important elements taking shape before you.

Taehyung’s nostrils flared up as his digits started to tease his crown through the fabric, permitting a ponderous exhale to depart from his chest — the sensation was numbed and, yet, it made his eyelids grow heavy as he stared down at your form. “I don’t plan to,” he spoke in a hushed tone, appearing as if he had utilized every ounce of his self-control to do so. “Want to feel it? How hard I am for you?”

The aching between your legs was getting intolerable, at it filled your mind with hazy clouds of craving. As your stare oscillated down to his pants — where you could notice a small wet spot of pre-cum starting to accumulate amongst the material — you swore all the remnants of your apprehension had left you behind. “Yes.” You swallowed dry, sitting up straight. You were out of your senses, but not enough to disregard such tempting proposal, especially when his velvety tone felt so deliciously inviting.

You had to battle against a moan that started to form at the tip of your tongue when your fingers met the textile of his pants — and, right underneath it, the hardness of his cock. Delicately, you started to stroke its sides, feeling as his member twitched in your hands; then the wetness of his pre-cum when you dared to tease his slit. From miles underneath the sea, you heard Taehyung’s breath being caught in his throat, his abs clenching as he drowned in your feather-like movements. “Can I cum in your pretty mouth, baby?” he asked, rather suddenly. You heart almost jumped out of your chest. “Do you want to suck me off?”

“Yes,” you responded just as rapidly. Once again, the proposal was too good to be neglected. “I do.”

Above you, the sound of Taehyung’s chuckle reverberated throughout the consolidated air. He seemed to find some sort of diversion amongst your dissimulated distress, the eagerness you tried to mask as you fumbled to open his buttons. “You love my cock, don’t you?” his voice was dangerously deeper as he asked, clearly amused. And there it was: your first of many kink choices for the night. Cock worship. You could do that. “You can tell me, love, you know how much I like to hear it.”

However, your response did not come so fast. With measured movements, you slided his trousers — and boxers — down his legs, your arousal only increasing as his erection was freed from its confinements. Slightly flabbergasted at the perfection of his form, you observed attentively every particularity that surrounded Taehyung: the shaky breath that left him as his member touched the cool air of the room, already soaked by its own nectar; the flinching of his limbs as you dared to move closer to him, magnetized by the frail neon aura that bathed his flesh. It was a heavenly picture, to say the least, and it was yours to have a taste of.

Still, you reminded yourself that he needed an answer, and your inner conflicts would have to be put on hold, at least for the time being. “Yes, I do…” You trailed off, placing one of your hands around his base. It felt so heavy against your palm, so thick. You bit back a moan once you thought about how good his cock would feel inside you, how amazingly it could fill you up. God bless impromptu decisions, and god bless the cravings of the flesh. “I love it so much.”

Nonchalantly, you tilted your head closer to his center, and your tongue met his crown, flat, then started to draw circular movements against his reddened skin; teasing his opening just enough to earn a muffled cry for more. As you would soon learn, Taehyung was sensitive to even the most timid of caresses, and even his dominating aura could not disguise the need that overruled his mind.

You felt as his fingers intertwined with the strands of your hair, pushing at the top of your head, wordlessly imploring for more. Above you, the boy grunted and cursed, closing his eyes to savor that moment the best he could. “That’s it, baby,” Taehyung eagerly praised, almost as if talking to himself. “Just take it all.”

He didn’t have to ask twice, for every other option was outrageous to even consider.

With a sigh, you placed your lips, rather tenderly, around the head of his cock, and suckled lightly, barely teasing him. You leaned back enough so you could speak, your breath hitting his member in thin clouds of heat. “You’re so hard,” you spoke, angling your head slightly to the right. You licked your path from his base to his top, and heard as a dragged-out grunt broke just behind his clenched teeth. Even the salty taste of his precum felt awfully realistic, you though in a moment of surprise; the texture of his swollen skin was perfect. “So big, Taehyung.”

“All yours, love.” He exhaled. As much as his timbre was somewhat controlled, his actions were not, and the roughness of which he held to your hair only presented his hunger further. “I’m so close already, just looking you is enough to make me cum.”

Now, there were some things that you didn’t precisely think about, but that would appear in the midst of your thoughts regardless. At that instant, the mental depiction of Taehyung coming all over your lips, untouched and trembling at his own release, hit you like a tidal wave, washing away all traces of logic that still lingered inside you. You could see it, in a way, hanging like a sword over his head, reflecting at the bottom of his parted eyes — the man was reaching closer to the edges of his self-control and, between your fingers, his member was painfully enlarged, begging to be caressed.

And that was all you needed to stop teasing him. Go figure, you weren’t that patient either.

Taehyung’s body jolted forward when your mouth wrapped around his cock, and you pushed yourself closer to it, sinking it inside your mouth. He, too, lost the ability to hold back his actions, for the hand that held to your hair closed around your strands with even more force, marking the rhythm of your movements, fighting to pull your head closer to his hips. You hummed at how good it felt, regardless of the sudden rush of pain. You loved it rough, and that had been precisely what you had went for.

“Oh, that’s it. You feel so fucking good,” he cried out in an astounding instant of adoration, every small movement of your tongue against his member made him buckle his lower body towards you; a groan bubbling on his throat. “Take me deeper, baby,” he pleaded.

Obedient, you leaned your body forwards, causing for his cock to hit even deeper inside your mouth. Progressively, you relaxed your throat so you could take even more of his large member in, and grew surprised at how easy it was — apparently your simulated self had no notion of a gag reflex, and that could be used in your favor. All hail the horny programmers that had made that moment possible.

You hummed around his member, taking him whole — or, as much as you could, while your other hand worked massaging his base. Even if it was slightly bothersome the way it ached the back of your throat, you could ignore it; instead focusing on the way his voice resounded around the room; moans and cries echoing around you as he thrusted inside your mouth, delighting in the amazing way you felt around him; chest rising and falling in heavy pants. “Fuck yeah,” Taehyung sobbed, thrusting his hips against your mouth in pure jubilation. “Just like th— shit, your mouth feels so fucking amazing—”

There had been failed attempts to find some sort of relief by slightly thrusting your center against the silky bed sheets, but that was clearly not even close to being sufficient, and it only served to make you even hornier, teasing your clit lightly. You had guessed that such part of the simulation wouldn’t last for long, since your pleasure was the main one to be taken into consideration by the program, and you had completely soaked your underwear by the point that Taehyung’s words were completely lost amongst a tide of broken moans.

Much to your delight, you were correct.

“I'm gonna cum, baby,” Taehyung warned, his member throbbing and twitching between your lips. His every action was a silent bargain for more of your mouth — to take him deeper, faster, to allow him to fuck himself against your soft tongue as you sucked him. Since you weren’t a fan of prolonging his — and by consequence, your — suffering, you did as he expected, and the reaction was instantaneous. “Oh, fuck—”

With a last, breathless whimper, he released inside your mouth; fingers grasping to your hair as you moaned around him, allowing for him to fill you with his cum. Only then, when his amazingly deep voice cried out the shattered syllables of your (fake) name and his thighs begun to tremble underneath the weight of his satisfaction, did you fully notice that you could move away from his cock, for he was already flinching with overstimulation.

After you had swallowed his release, you looked up at him. A dim, fucked-out smirk decorated his lips as his eyes found your own, presenting you with the felicity that had took over him.

Taehyung was still inhaling heavily as he took his thumb to clean one of the corners of your mouth, unhurriedly guiding it to part your red-bitten lips. “You look so pretty like this…” he praised, watching as you sucked on his thumb, swallowing the remnants of his cum. He sighed. “Love, you’re driving me crazy. Lay down for me, let me take care of you.”

You swore you almost cried out in relief as he said so, mind completely focused on the wetness that had pooled in-between your legs. Regardless, your only form of agreement was a long, drawn-out sigh as you moved away from his figure and did as he ever so pleasantly requested.

With fluid movements that did not show your overwhelming craving for his touches, you leaned your torso back, and threw yourself on the mattress, amongst the mountains of the silk sheets, and slightly pushed your body towards the center of the circular bed. As you did so, however, your eyes promptly met… you own.

God have mercy, of course there would be a mirror on the ceiling.

There was a short-lived moment of surprise as you followed the cascade of your hair on the mirror, irradiating around your head; the iridescent lights that contoured your exposed breasts; and the red marks that delineated your mouth. The person on the mirror looked both like yourself and a different version of if, barely a lost phantasm living amongst the shadows of that hotel. It was a paradoxical position: it felt like an hallucination, and yet a vivid part of reality.

Before you could ruminate on that piece of information any further, though, another figure came into focus on the reflection. Taehyung had taken off his last piece of clothing — his shirt — and had kneeled before you, fingertips landing on your thighs and pushing your legs apart. “Keep’em open for me, baby,” he whispered, overtaken by devotion. His voice was husky, enthralling. “Let me see what you’re giving me tonight.”

Your eyes darted away from the mirror, and towards him. “Taehyung,” you called out, shame long forgotten. The flame of carnality that burned at the bottom of your abdomen was overbearing, scorching your skin and turning your contemplations into ashes. There was nothing else that you needed but to feel him. “Please, just hurry.”

He placed his hands on either side of your head, finding support on the malleable fabric, and placing himself between your legs. Taehyung’s figure blocked out the obfuscus luminescence that came from the outside world, and the heat of his skin managed to be overwhelming, as bright as the lambency that shone within his gaze.

Against your expectations, though, the man didn’t laugh at the vocalization of your painful needs. Instead, Taehyung steadily lowered his body to your level, placed a prolonged kiss on your lips, and then moved down to your collarbones, his tongue writing poetry against your skin. He maintained his sluggish path as his large hands caressed your tits, pressing them together and grunting as he felt your nipples hardening underneath his touch.

“Taehyung,” you called out his name like it was a prayer — it was no time to tease you like that. “I want more.”

He hummed and departed from your bosom, kissing and licking down your stomach, your waist, your hips. Pushing your legs apart — which had once again closed in a natural defense against his erotic touches — Taehyung trailed up the invisible course on the inner part of your thigh, moving nearer to where you needed him the most. His lips were soft as feathers, warm as the flames of hell, and his tongue marked ancient spells on your skin.

God, you were doomed.

“Ah, love, you're dripping for me,” the boy complimented in awe, moving his palms towards your oversensitive center. With lustful appetite scintillating behind his eyes, Taehyung took two of his fingers back to your folds; but, instead of entering you, they simply dwelled at your wetness, earning a low groan from him as he pushed them apart.

The heath of his mouth met the cotton of your underwear, his lips circling your covered clit just right. He wanted to tease you further, but he knew you were in no position to endure it. “I just want to have a taste of you, love…” Taehyung trailed off, two of his slender fingers curling around the hem of your panties, pulling them down with umberable patience. The brush of his skin against yours was gentle, but enough to have a sigh leave your mouth — his voice was something you just fucking loved to hear, sweet as honey and deep as the libido the bloomed within your chest. “Fuck, look at you…”

Licking his plump lips in expectation, the boy stared in hidden fascination as he uncovered your soaked center, presenting him with a luscious view of your dripping sex. With a reverberating, satisfied groan, Taehyung placed one of his fingers on your entrance, playing with your wetness, barely teasing his way in. “You're all ready for me, babe,” he praised in a suspire, lowering his head to take a closer look at you. When he spoke, his hot breath hit the skin of your inner thighs. “God, you'll make me go crazy. I can't wait to make you cum around my cock.”

Your pulse quickened at the idea, causing for you to raise your hips against the motions of his expert digits. Through your parted lids, your gaze met his cock — already hard and throbbing against his abdomen, ready for another round. In real life, that would have taken a bit longer than a couple minutes, but, then again, Paradise 17 knew what it was doing.

Taehyung hummed once again, content with your physical response — the whines that broke upon your tongue, and the trembling breaths that got trapped in your fast-beating chest. His nose brushed its path along your thigh, moving dangerously close to your heat, while his fingers moved to rub your clit at a slow pace, coating it with your own moisture. “Will you be a good girl for me?” Taehyung questioned in a mumble — God, that voice was going to be the end of you. “Will you do what I ask you to?”

“Yeah…” you agreed in a whimper, respiration getting heavier by each torturous second. It was awfully annoying the way he grew confident at your distress — Taehyung’s gaze was one of pure cockiness, making you clench your teeth as you attempted to get more friction from his touches; the ghost of his plump lips against your sensitive skin. “Yes, just let me…oh fuck—”

Before you could even prepare yourself for it, Taehyung had moved his hand down, and entered one finger inside you, delighting in the way you clenched around him. “Just let you what?” the boy provoked, raising his head away from your heat, watching as your fingers dug to the sheets by your side. It was no fantastic discovery the fact that Taehyung had deliciously long fingers, but, once he added the second one, you were already starting to lose the terminal remnants of your self-control. “I couldn’t hear you, baby.”

Outside the concupiscent walls of Paradise 17, you would have never seen yourself as much of a submissive person, but Taehyung managed to turn that around rather quickly. And, as his movements grew more frantic, you lost yourself. “Taehyung, please,” you cried out, closing your eyes in absolute bliss. You could feel yourself getting lighter as your orgasm approached, chest rising and falling as you seeked your release. “Please, let me cum.”

Taehyung inhaled sharply at the inflections of your needy speech, groaning once he felt the throbbing of his own hard member against the bed. Around his fingers, you clenched and released, signaling that you weren’t far from your high. “Good girl,” he praised, repositioning himself to get closer to you.

In an action that was a bit too mercurial for your foggy mind to follow, his mouth was working on your clit with an unprecedented hunger, fingers completely sinking inside you. Taehyung grunted as he sucked on your sensitive spot, feeling as your walls tightened around his fingers, your juices soaking the path down his digits, and onto his hand. Hard and heavy, his cock twitched and rubbed against the bed every time you whined out his name, at every new, needy moan that dares to reverberate past your tongue.

When moved back, you could sense his shallow breaths reaching for your clit in small puffs of air. “Will you cum on my tongue? You know I love how you taste.” His charges got a bit faster, reaching deep inside you. Every once in a while, he would part his fingers ever so slightly, which you were sure it was a way to prepare you for his big member.

You could not be in the best state of mind then, but you could remember perfectly how thick he was as he was pressed against you, or as he filled your mouth, and the recalling was more than sufficient to push an answer out of your arid throat.

“Yes, yes, please,” you struggled to speak out, the right words flying away from your grasp. Your mind was already getting overwhelmed by the constant stimulation, the eminent arrival of your release turning your thoughts into absolute pandemonium — something that only worsened once you felt his tongue flat against your clit, losing no time in massaging it in gradual, deliciously circular motions. “Oh my god,” you gasped, hands flying to grip his soft strands of hair.

His digits curved upwards, hitting your sweet spot with no effort. You threw your head back, feeling as your pleasure expanded by the second, “Taehyung,” you called out in a whimper, rolling your hips against his hand. Weak, your knees felt like they were made of jello as he continued his movements, using his fingers to open your entrance wider, hitting you deeper. You were hanging just over the edge, and one last push was all you needed. “Right there, fuck. I’m going to—”

And the last push arrived in the form of a low, guttural moan against your heat. Just like Taehyung had requested, you came on his tongue, and gladly so. As your legs trembled under the hit of your first orgasm, your fingers held tightly to the roots of his hair, riding out your high against the intoxicating movements of his tongue against your clitoris. You cried out what resembled the pieces of his name in an exasperated exhale, drowning in the intercalated waves of heat and iceness that ran up and down your spine.

When Taehyung departed from in-between your legs and sat back on the bed, his roseate tongue came out, licking the remnants of your liquids on his plump lips, and taking his fingers to his mouth to do the same. “You taste so good…” the boy trailed off, the mere image turning into the hottest thing you had ever seen. As he looked at you, however, you observed that his eyes were a bit emptier than before. “Do you want to continue?” he inquired.

As soon as those words left his swollen, wet lips, you noticed that his timbre had decayed into a neutral one, and instantly noticed that it was the simulation asking for your consent. Better safe than sorry, you guessed.

Then again, if you were there, you might as well go all out.

You licked your lips, looking down at his own — his mouth was completely covered by your juices, shining against the dim magenta lights like small diamonds. “Yes,” you responded. That simple sentence took all of your spiritual strength; even the steadiness of your voice was hanging by a thread. “I want more.”

Much to your delight, that appeared to be all that he necessitated to keep your night moving along, for his gaze drew back to the same fathomless expansion that had been ruling over your thoughts. If there were any fragments of his robotic, pre-programming self still living within that hotel room, they soon vanished as he began to speak again.

“Ah, love, you're still dripping for me,” the boy complimented in awe. With lustful appetite scintillating behind his eyes, Taehyung took two of his fingers back to your folds; but, instead of entering you, they simply dwelled at your wetness, earning a low groan from him as he pushed them apart, then trailed softly towards your clit. The contact made you shake, air stuck in your lungs. “Fuck, you're soaking the bed, baby. Is that how much you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, Taehyung, please,” you whined out, trying to move your core against him. However, to your frustration, his other hand moved quicker than your intentions, and it held your hips in place. Such an annoying little tease you had gotten for yourself. “Stop with this and just fuck me.”

Again, so much for being subtle. Then again, as much as Taehyung was playing the dominating part in that piece of virtual heaven, your wishes were the ones to be taken into consideration, especially when they were worded in such urgent manner. Quite literally, it bottomed down to the fact that you wished for him to fuck you, and so he would.

Without warning, as he often liked to act, the boy positioned himself between your legs. Taehyung took his hand away from your core and wrapped it around his member, using it to guide himself past your folds. He started by teasing his head in, making you get used to his size, before, at last, sinking the rest of his length inside; the delicious way of your walls stretched open to accommodate his cock making you to fall back against the mattress in a silent plea.

Taehyung was a quivering mess as he breathed out, fighting back a groan of satisfaction. His hands returned to rest on each side of your head, and his chest lowered, getting closer to your own. “Shit, I could just slip right in,” he told you, slowly pulling his hips back, leaving only the tip of his member in, just to shove himself back inside you. Once again, he repeated the action, starting with a slower rhythm, filling you to the brim. “You feel so fucking good, babe, fuck…”

Your only reply had been a restrained moan, and the wrapping of your legs around his waist. Taehyung was thick, reaching every possible spot inside you and leaving you in a storm of moans and torn supplications; fingers holding to the bed sheets in a shallow, frustrated attempt to hold yourself back to rationality.

With furrowed brows, Taehyung closed his eyes in concentration. Gradually, his hips started to lose precision in their pushes, and his rhythm was a scattered combination of movements; following the symphony of his constant groans and moans, fucking you much faster — rougher — than before. “You like this?” he panted.

“Yeah,” you said. He rolled his hips against you, fucking you so well that you saw stars forming constellations before your eyes. “Go deeper, ple—”

But he had already understood your request, and loud exclamation of delight dropped from your bruised lips, interrupting your sentence. You felt as his member, thick and throbbing, entered you deeper, stretching you wide and hitting all the lovely spots. “Like this?” he whispered in a hoarse voice, unable to hold back his own cries of delectation. His pouty lips wrote your fate on the surface of your soft cheeks, moving towards your neck once again. “Is this okay?”

“Oh fuck, yeah, just like this,” you cried out, closing your eyes in utter ecstasy as he did what you requested. Taehyung made sure to bring his hips back — his tip almost leaving your heat — before slamming himself back in, rolling his hips slightly so he could reach the all the places you loved so much with each feral thrust. The heat of his breaths against your skin was constant, but it could never win against the sensations that spreaded throughout your body. “Don’t stop, oh my god.”

Sooner than you would like, your second orgasm of the night hit you like a tidal wave, making you cry out his name again and again; your previous line of thought forgotten. You closed your eyes in endless, euphoric bliss, dwelling in the way he continued to fuck you through your high; knees shaking and arms far too weak to hold down to the bed.

Still, he fulfilled your request, and didn’t stop even after you had come undone.

“Taehyung,” you called, voice no more than a frail exclamation floating around the air. Your body was thrown up and down as he fucked you hard, the sound of sheets beneath of skin combining perfectly with the deep moans that left the boy. Taehyung was so strong in his thrusts that even the sensation of your boobs bouncing turned into a ocean of jubilation. “I already c-came.”

He inhaled sharply, hands meeting the curvature of your waist. The heat of his palms sent shivers down your spine; the frown of pleasure that overtook his features was enough to erase all your flabbergasted contemplations. “But you feel so perfect,” the boy praised, his storm-like advances becoming more and more inconsistent by the second; fingers holding to your flesh almost possessively. “Do one more for me, baby, come on. Cum for me.”

If it had been in real life, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to pull that off, but, since the context was different, the task did not feel as impossible as it seemed. “O-Okay,” you agreed in a stutter, reality seeming to be eons away. You were too weak to even protest, not that you really wanted to. “For you.”

And bless Paradise 17 for making your simulated body recover faster than your real one ever could, because it didn’t take much longer until your oversensibility gave way to a new wave of euphoria.

You bit your lip then, hard, trapping a whimper behind your teeth as you felt Taehyung maintain his strong actions, his eyes glued to the soft bouncing of your boobs; lips vaguely parted to form a silent syllable. Everything was becoming too much: his moans were too constant, yet so muffled; the pigmentation of the room contrasted with the bright lights from outside. The world was coming to a sudden halt, and your focus could barely hold itself to one single fragment of that room — the buildings that tried to reach the skyline beyond the window glass; then back to the sweat that accumulated between your bodies; then flickering to the clenching of Taehyung’s jaw as he felt your walls tightening around him.

But then, when you started to believe you were going to cum for another time, the man ceased his movements, and drew away from your body.

The absence of his touch — and subsequently, of his member inside you — was like a shock that ran through your limbs, making your eyes immediately dart open. You found your own discombobulated gaze on the mirror above and, besides that, the retrieving of his figure as he moved away from your own.

You pushed yourself to seat up. “Taehyung, what—”

“Hold on, baby, it won’t take long,” he requested, interrupting your ‘what the fuck are you doing?’, and leaning over the bed’s edge, reaching for the crepuscular nightstand. Taehyung opened the drawer in a swift movement and you heard something roll inside it, meeting the wood. “I want you to feel even better. You can lay down.”

Fighting back against your true desires, you did as he requested. Above you, your reflected body was covered in cherry-covered marks — all the way to the deep colors on your neck, to the ghostly pressing of his hands on your breasts and hips. The realization of Taehyung’s true roughness only made your craving reach further, rupturing upon your tongue in the form of a breathless suspire. “Tae, please.”

Taehyung lived up to his promise and, within a second, he was already crawling back towards you. “I’m here, love.” He smirked rather amicably — though, in his eyes, shone the flame of his prolonged self-indulgence. “I have something for you.”

You were about to ask what he was talking about when you saw the small, pink-colored object in his hands, and you understood where he was getting at. Of course: you did select vibrators after all. Cheers for stupid decisions.

And cheers for Taehyung for acting before you could even construct a response.

The contact of the vibrator against your clit made you cry out instantly — your body was unaware of the small period that it had been privated from his touches, for you were right back where you stopped, and lust, once again, ran through your veins.

You clenched around nothing and, in an automatic movement, you looked down at his throbbing member. Promptly, you observed how his cock was swollen, ready to cum once again, begging to be touched, to fill you up just the way you loved it. The mere sight of him made you whimper in expectation, your abdomen flinching as the vibrations continued to spread. “Taehyung, p-please,” you begged again. The pressure inside your core was too intense, you just needed to release it. You couldn’t hold back for much longer. “I’m gonna cum like t-this if you don’t hurry.”

Luckily, Taehyung, as you had noted, wasn’t the biggest fan of holding back either. With the fluid movements of a running river, he moved back in between your legs, and placed them over his thighs, angling you perfectly to receive him once again.

One second later, he had already slipped back inside you, and his rough advances resumed.

Sweat had accumulated at the bottom of your spine, and the world just felt too dense to even breathe properly; even less to construct abstract sentences. You begged for your body to just made you cum at once, because you didn’t know how long you could endure that torture for.

Yet, Taehyung wasn’t completely satisfied with your position. With a strong motion, he took one of your hands and placed it over the vibrator, making you hold it firmly against your sensitive spot. The pressure became more intense, and you felt as if your lungs were on fire. “Keep it there, baby,” Taehyung instructed with a hoarse voice, his hips beginning to take a more violent pace. The vibrations against your clit were becoming too much, and you felt as if you could reach your high again at any time now. “Yeah, that’s right. Feels good?”

You bit down on your lower lip, fingertips trembling against the vibrator. “T-Taehyung,” you called in a whimper, looking up to meet the mirror on the ceiling. You could see the motions of his back muscles with perfection, his hips advancing against yours repetitively; your own, needy eyes staring back at you in an unspoken bargain. God, the man fucked you like a machine and, in a way, he was one. “Taehyung, it’s too much…”

Like a whisper inside your mind, your safe word came in a silent proposal — but you quickly overlooked it. You didn’t want it to stop. Not yet.

“Yes, baby, fuck,” he groaned, making sure to add more and more force to his eager thrusts. Shit, you could feel him throbbing inside you, fucking you raw. You moaned and cried, knees shaking as you pressed down the pink vibratior to your clit, the contact adding to the hypnotic, harsh thrusts of his cock in and out of you. The scorching, frenzied waves in your lower body were becoming unbearable, ready to come crumbling down at any given instant. “Cum on my cock, please, baby…”

And that was the final drop. You didn’t know if it was his stupidly corny pet names or the overwhelming movement of his large member inside you, but, honestly, you didn’t care. It could have been a combination of those factors, or perhaps something entirely different. The point was that you had reached your breaking point, and your body could not take it any longer.

You wanted to beg for him to go on, to fuck you harder, deeper, faster; but you couldn’t find the words to do so. You reached for the stars, and there you stayed. As your lips opened, only a choked moan came out, eyes closing as your climax washed like currents throughout your body — making your knees tremble and your stomach clench up. Your nails dug to the skin of his back as you called out his name, your weak voice coming in fragments because of the force of his thrusts.

He, too, could not take much longer. “I’m gonna cum,” Taehyung said in a groan, hitting impossibly deep inside you. Though your climax, you really felt how big he was, keeping you in your place as you tightened around him. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect, so tight, I’m— oh, shit.“

You felt as his cock throbbed inside you as he came undone, his thrusts getting more erratic as his voice was sliced by moans and grunts, your name being thrown in the form of disconnected sounds. He fucked you through his high like he had promised: roughly, giving you no space to recover, and only stopped when you complained at the oversensibility.

Taehyung, at last, let out a final, exhausted curse before he moved away from your body, rolling next to you on that king-sized bed. For an instant, silence filled the space between the two of you. Then, the forsaken inquiry resounded once again. “Do you want to continue?” he asked, his throaty voice navigating the air like disembodied sin.

The vibrator was turned off, and you placed it in between the two of you — quivering fingers and sliced breaths echoing in between your sweaty bodies. You swallowed dry, taking an instant to fully organize your thoughts. The sensation of your orgasm still lingered within your bones, and you could swear your centre still felt the vibrations of the object.

“Yes,” you said in a blunt, reckless decision. “Yes please, I want more. Just one more.”

“Are you sure? There’s no need to be greedy.” Taehyung smirked at the eagerness that lingered behind your lips, barely vocalized within your fragmented syllables. As the man lethargically turned his chest towards you, your gaze followed the movement of his cock — still so deliciously swollen, vaguely coated by the whiteness of his release — as thumped against the softness of the mattress, begging to be caressed once again. “I’ll understand if you want to stop for today, love.”

You licked your lips, attention oscillating between his dark charcoal eyes and the throbbing of his member. There was something terribly hot about the way that Taehyung was still hard, and traces of hornyness could still be found lingering just at the back of his smile.

The man, just like every other computer-generated personality in that simulation, had been perfectly coded to be the best partner you would ever have, and he certainly lived up — and surpassed — your expectations. And, to top all of that, the atmosphere of Paradise 17 was, on itself, aphrodisiac. It consumed you from the inside out, making you base your decisions on the desires of the flesh, and not your rational impulses. Outside the simulation, you would have never agreed to another round of that cardio exercise, but, then and there, any other option seemed far too preposterous to even consider.

So, when your answer left your lips, you were not precisely left surprised.

“I can do one more.”

A deep chuckle reverberated within his chest, and he moved slowly to sit up on the bed, back pressed against the headboard. Manners forgotten, one of his hands curled around his aching cock, fingers teasing his slit as he took in your fucked-out image. Taehyung hissed at the sensitivity of his member, twitching painfully at the absence of your heat; a long, guttural moan breaking upon his lips as he spoke again. “Look what you do to me,” his chest quivered as his spoke, panting breaking his words into breathless pleas. “I’m still so horny.”

The image of him jerking off was just too hot to handle, and certainly not something you had been psychologically ready to endure. Taehyung moaned, his own eyes falling to the rapid movements of his fingers against his pulsating length; droplets of sweat glistening on his forehead, shining over the roseate hue of his cheeks. From the clenching of his abs and the rise and fall of his hips, you could tell that he was working his way past the painful sensitivity of his last two orgasms. You desperately wanted to watch him cum like that, but you knew that he was just teasing you further.

Which, by the way, really fucking worked.

Taehyung grunted as his hand continued its movements, eyes falling shut as the delightful sensation of his actions started to work its way around his body. “I can’t hold myself back when I’m around you, baby, you make me so hard.” He threw his head back against the soft headboard, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard, attempting to hold back a whine. You didn’t even care that you were in a simulation then, you just wanted to have him again. “Will you take me well, babe?”

“So well.” You breathed out, biting your lower lip as his actions increased in speed. Taehyung was starting to lose himself in his own bliss, enchanted by the sinful images you presented him. The view he gifted you — sweaty hair and closed eyes; parted lips coated by your nectar; and constant, needy moans — was driving you insane, eagerness taking over you once again. “Taehyung, please, I need to feel you… I’ll take you well, please…”

“Ah, babe.” Taehyung sighed, opening his eyes just enough so you could notice the way his irises shone in absolute lust — he looked like a piece of inferno wrapped in the ethereality of paradise, from the way his hair was gleaming in droplets sweat to the clenching of his abs. “You’re such a good girl for me, fuck… Get up.”

And that request was all you necessitated. With expeditious movements, you stood up besides the bed and, instantaneously, felt as his cum began to drip in between your legs, running down your thighs. What a fucking mess, you thought. If it hadn't been a simulation, you would have definitely cleaned yourself up before anything else — not that you thought your real body could have endured all of that, plus what was coming, but still.

“Move closer to the window, let me see you.” Taehyung delicately requested, as he leisurely let go of his member and watched it bounce against his abdomen, aching for you. As you did as you were told, you felt the weakness of your legs beneath you, and the unspoken promise that they would give out at any instant.

You didn’t know what it was, but you just loved the way that Taehyung seemed so horny to have you again and again, unable to keep his hands off himself as he watched you — from the movement of your wet thighs to the suave bouncing of your breasts — as you moved towards the kaleidoscopic glass, momentaneously hesitant, waiting for more of his orders.

Soon enough, they came.

Taehyung got up, and ran one hand through his sweaty strands of hair, pushing it back and showing you his furrowed brows. He looked like lucifer then, owner of such enveloping aura that you could lose yourself in the labyrinth of his fathomless gaze. “Love,” he began, “Tell me what you want.”

As he took one step toward you, you took one behind, and your back me the gelid window. Air was trapped within the walls of your throat, both from the contact of the surface and the tension that lingered between the two of you. “I just want to have you,” you spoke out. And that was the pure truth. “I don’t care how.”

He smiled. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets,” Taehyung told you with uncharacteristic kindness, gaze falling to the alluring forms of your body, the vague trembling of your knees. Two of his fingers traced down the path between your breasts, his voice coming out lower as an order came out of his lips. “Turn your back to me.”

Eager, you followed Taehyung’s command immediately. Before you, in his phantasm-like reflection, you saw the way he bit down on his lower lip, groaning as he noticed your growing wetness.

“Ass up for me, love,” Taehyung murmured from behind you, his hoarse timbre sending shivers down your spine. Once again, you did as he said, perking up your hips and finding support with your palms against the window. “That's it, baby.” Lackadaisically, his digits contoured the curvature of your ass, groping at your flesh tightly. He knew about your desire, and took his time to tease you — next time, you would make sure to get the most impatient partner you could find. “Just look at you, all ready for me.”

You whined at the sensation of his big cock bumping against your heat as he stepped even closer, your core clenching around nothing. “Taehyung, please—” Heavy breaths painted pictures of diaphanous clouds against the window, and the polychromatic city lights became foggy underneath it. Outside, you could see the outline of other people passing in front of windows, and something fell at the pit of your stomach — were you on online mode? Were those real people using the system?

Did you even care?

Not really.

Behind you, Taehyung chuckled at your distress, and the sound reverberated through your breastbone. “Look at that,” he provoked. Against your clit, you felt the tip of his cock, and the mere contact made you gasp in anticipation — you felt so empty, you needed him again, just one last time. “All those people are watching you get fucked. Isn’t that lovely?”

Lost amongst your blurred thought, you closed your eyes as you felt the sensation of his member rubbing itself in-between your folds. Taehyung was still vaguely covered by his own pre-cum, and your wetness lubed his way perfectly. If you angled your lower body just enough, you’d be able to feel the slow, dragged-out grinding of his throbbing ache against your entrance and convince yourself, even if for an instant, that his grinding would cease, and he would end your torture by spreading you open.

Nevertheless, that illusion of pleasure was short-lived.

A sharp, burning pain spread across your asscheek as it came in contact with his palm, making you jolt your body forward in a mixture of surprise and delectation. And there it was: spanking. You knew there was something still missing from your checklist of kinks.

“Answer me, love,” Taehyung almost hissed against the skin of your neck. “I asked you a question.”

You took a second to even remember what question he was referring to, and three more to conjure an answer — or something even remotely close to that. “Yes, yes it is,” you said. You had no idea what he wanted you to respond, and the grinding of his cock against your folds didn’t make your mind any less fogged.

Once again, he laughed at your distressed words. This time however, the softness of his deep chuckles was accompanied by the tenderness of his palm against the same area he had hit. “Well.” Taehyung breathed out, pushing your hair away from your neck. He planted a kiss on your skin, and his hands found the curvature of your waist. “We should put on a show, then. Don’t you think so?”

As much as you would adore the idea of him forcing another answer out of you, you pushed your tired vocal chords to formulate the words of your agreement. “I do, yeah.”

He hummed, and took one of his hands to guide himself to your entrance. “Let’s start, then,” Taehyung mumbled. With the heavy breaths that departed from his lips, and the hunger that was reflecting in his eyes, you could tell that he did not want to prolong that instant for longer than necessary.

Taehyung entered you with one long, swift motion, allowing for you to get, once again, used to his size. In the phantasmagorical reflection of the foggy window, you catched glimpses of his own face, contorted by fervorous hunger, as he felt the way you opened himself to him.

You pressed your forehead against the glass as he held tighter to your flesh, gasping at the feeling. This time, he wasn’t really focusing on thrusting inside you, but on pushing and pulling your body against his cock, making you do most of the job. “Taehyung, you’re so big,” you choked out without much thought, back arching as his hips begun to move, sliding in and out of you, then starting to take on a more violent, rapid rhythm. “It feels so good, fuck.”

Mindlessly, your hips perked up, seeking for a new angle. It was probably the amount of times you had come already — two? three? You couldn’t even remember — but you could tell that your body was not going to be able to endure that sensation for much longer. That certainty, however, presented itself once Taehyung moved to pull your ass up, while fucking you deeper, and happened to hit your sweet spot.

“Oh my god, Taehyung, right there. Don’t stop,” you begged. Against the glass, your fingers slid down, leaving behind the marks of your hand. The world outside was nothing but a blur, and you did not care for anyone else that could catch a glimpse of your decay into perdition. “I’m so close already.”

“Me too,” Taehyung responded in a whisper. Inside you, his member throbbed and twisted in need, signaling that the man wouldn’t be able to take it for much longer either. “Fuck, baby, just take me, I know you can do it.”

The tingling in your lower belly was spreading throughout your hips and stomach, traveling to infest your entire body. It felt dangerously good, and you were sure you were about to reach your breaking point — a part of you wished for him to go slower just so you could prolong that sensation, but that was just too much for you to ask. You loved the way he filled you up, his thick cock twitching inside you as he fucked you into oblivion, too harsh, too rough for you to follow.

So, you found your relief for the final time that night, crying out his name as he continued to drill into you, pushing your breasts against the glass, holding to your hips with the same force he has smacked you aforetime. In a way, you didn’t expect to end it any other way. It was almost poetic, if you thought about it.

“That’s right, love,” Taehyung murmured against the skin of your back, closing his eyes. You could tell he was close too, for the his abdomen had started clenching. He was a greek god then, making you his in every right way, his muscles outlined by the neon illumination that came from outside. “You’re such a good girl, aren't you? You just love it when I have you like this, you take my cock so well.”

You felt as if you were about to explode, pleasure overtaking every cell of your body. Trembling, your knees fought to keep you steady as Taehyung used your body to get himself off.

His teeth found the skin of your neck, biting down lightly. Taehyung seemed as if he wanted to claw his way into your body, for even his thrusts got impossibly harder, raising your hips with the impact. “You’re so tight, love, so fucking perfect,” he spoke against your skin, one of his arms wrapping around your waist, and the other seeking support on the window. “I’m… I’m going to cum, baby.”

And, of course, he was a man of his word. Taehyung came inside you with a profound groan against your wet skin, and you could feel as he filled you up with his cum; still thrusting in and out of you as it began to drip in between your legs. You whimpered at the sensitivity, and your legs almost gave out beneath you as he continued to fuck himself through his relief.

Alright, truth be told. You may have exaggerated a bit, but, god, it was worth every second.

He ceased his movements and, for an instant, there was only serenity. Then, for the final time that night, the same question resounded throughout the consolidated room. “Do you want to continue?” Taehyung inquired, his lips mere centimeters away from your ear, and his cock still buried deep inside you.

You sighed at the contact of his warm breath, attempting to organize your ponderations. “No, not anymore,” you answered, a bit sad. “I should go now.”

Frankly, you didn’t want to leave: the sex was too good and, from your glimpse at the clock at the wall, you could tell that you still had two hours before the constant virtual immersion reached the margins of dangerousness. Still, you were fucking exhausted. There was no way that you could endure another round, even if your simulated self already had much more stamina then you would ever achieve in real life. Paradise 17 was, after all, also reaching for the realistic side, and the tragic truth was that you were never the most athletic person around.

On the reflection, you saw that Taehyung pouted at your answer. “I will miss you, love,” he whispered against your neck, his fingertips caressing the curvature of your waist. Oh, you would really fucking miss him, and would make sure to come back as soon as you had your energy back on track. “I’ll be here for you, alright?”

That was a low hit, you thought, but you forced yourself to maintain your call. “Alright,” you mumbled back, closing your eyes in a moment of concentration. That was going to hurt — spiritually, psychologically, perhaps even physically, but it had to be done. “Cinnamon.”

Upon the soft-spoken verbalization of your safe word, the universe came to a sudden halt, and the simulation was paused. On the window before you, a diminutive, square-shaped screen appeared, shining in bright niveous colors. Do you wish to cease the simulation? It inquired.

“Yes.” You breathed out. The most difficult of decisions require the hardest of wills, after all — or at least that was how you thought the saying went.

Before you, the screen flickered into a brand new message. Please hold. You will be unplugged from the online interface, and your progress will be saved.

Increasingly, the hotel morphed into a darker shade of itself, like the flower that withered at the corner of your bedroom. The lights were turned off, and the world succumbed into penumbra. The fabric of the artificial reality shivered then, similar to how a small rock induces waves in a puddle, preparing itself to send you back to the world of the living — away from Paradise 17, and from the hellish magnificence that was Taehyung.

The steps were the same as when you entered the simulation: all physical sensation ceased for a prolonged instant, only to come crashing back as you were transported to a completely different position. Abruptly, you could feel the weight of your IMVIT helmet all around you, and the softness of your mattress was, once again, beneath your thighs — the touch so paradisiacal when compared to the roughness you had just endured.

You blinked a few times, trying to grow used to your body, and the tenebrosity that expanded all around you; your features barely illuminated by the small visor inside the object. On the screen before you, blue, pixelated letters read: Thank you for using Paradise 17. We hope you had a pleasurable experience. Come back soon.

And oh, damn right you would.

You can now remove your IMVIT helmet. Idol thanks you for your preference.

Supiring, you did as it requested.

The muffled atmosphere of your room hit you all at once, in clear dissonance with the sweet, cool air of Paradise 17. You waited a few seconds before your eyesight had adapted to the dim illumination and, with a heavy heart, you placed your helmet by your side, and threw your legs over the bed’s edge. Between your thighs, you could feel the effect of the simulation, for you had completely soaked your underwear.

Within a minute, you had already sat down in front of your computer and closed all open programs, feeling the ponderousness of sleep hanging over your shoulders. Still, there was something you needed to check before you allowed for your slumber to overtake you. For science, of course, just a bit of research.

Without much thought, you opened one of your go-to forums, and typed “Paradise 17” on the search bar. After a few seconds of scrolling through high star reviews and awfully personal descriptions of the user’s experiences, you found the piece of information you were searching for.

“The developers of the infamously popular simulation, Paradise 17, came out this last Sunday with great news for its devoted users. Its newest version, which is expected to hit the markets next month, will have, amongst other updates, the possibility of multiple partners. Oh Sehun, the spokesperson for Idol, told us in an exclusive interview that, so far, the number of participants is limited, ranging from the usual two, all the way up to five. Other than that, Idol promised to add new scenarios to the simulation, while still following the hotel theme — such as a hot tub and a public pool, for the ones who enjoy the thrill of being seen in public (...)”

You elevated one of your eyebrows in clear interest — a threesome? Now, that was something you could look forward to. The new update couldn’t come soon enough.

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