#Waltz for Venus

[loveneverfades]

Something Beautiful - Spike and Julia

[ghostbeam]

I know I talk about rewatching bebop all the time but like it has got to the point where sometimes I just put it on for background noise so I can hear spike’s voice

[mostly-imagines]

The Venus Drug

jason todd x afab!reader

aka the side effects of a run-in with poison ivy

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), sex pollen so its inherently not strictly speaking consensual, oral (f & m receiving), free use, overstimulation

A clattering in your living room has you blearily shifting awake. The dark of your bedroom takes your eyes longer to adjust to than usual, it feels like. You peer at the time, finding it only just past midnight. Even on the good nights, midnight is pretty early for him to be coming back. 

Though, there’s really little concern of the noise-maker being anyone but your boyfriend, he’s set up too many security measures and failsafes around your apartment for anyone to get lucky waltzing in. It does worry you though that he is making such a clamor when he’s usually so careful about entering silently as to not wake you. 

You’re about to climb out of bed to investigate when the door creaks open, though light doesn’t flood through the crack like you’d expected.

Jason stumbles into the doorway, falling into a lean against the wall for support.

You sit up quickly, instantly on alert. “What’s wrong?”

He takes one glance at you and immediately averts his gaze to the floor like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to.

You look down, thrown by his behavior, only to see your usual nighttime attire: one of his shirts over underwear.

You blink back up at him, furrowing your brow. “Jay?”

You can vaguely make out a sigh from him, “Fuck…” he squeezes his eyes shut. “Ivy..”

Ah. This has happened before to the others, but this is the first time you’ve seen him affected by it. You’re prepared for it, though you hadn’t anticipated that it would be so seemingly debilitating.

“What can I do?” You try not to look as concerned as you feel but you can’t say with confidence that it’s working.

He slowly pushes himself off the doorframe, heading wearily towards the bathroom. He tugs his shirt off with difficulty, tossing it to the side. “Nothing, nothing..I jus’ need to…” he takes a deep breath, “Get it out of my system..” He’s trying to be comforting but the pain in his voice rids it of all believability.

You frown, watching him linger. “That seems like the exact kind of thing I could help with.”

His eyes close helplessly as his head falls back, “You can’t, baby.”

“Why not?”

He sighs, “I’m not…as in control as I’d like to be right now.”

Your pout deepens. This is something you’re working on with him—trusting both you and himself with vulnerability. Especially when it comes to situations where he feels like he’s putting you in a vulnerable place too. But you trust him with your whole being and you want him to know it. “That’s okay.”

“No,” he shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you say resolutely. “I trust you.”

He wavers, “No, I…No. I can’t.”

He says that, but he’s still not retreating to the bathroom. Instead, he loiters awkwardly, like he’s caught between decisions.

You feel a twinge of heartache in your chest, “Does it hurt?”

He’s quick to answer, “I’m alright.” Though he doesn’t try his hardest to sell you on the idea. 

Your face pans, “That’s not what I asked.”

“I—” he huffs, conceding. “Yeah. Yes.”

You extend your arms out, beckoning him towards you. It clearly goes against his better judgment but he can’t help himself from moving closer to you. An evident testament to the strength of Ivy’s work.

You take his hands in yours, looking up at him with begging eyes, “Let me help you? Please?”

Up close like this you can really see how labored his breathing is and how pained he looks. You sit up onto your knees, pulling his hands closer. “I wanna take care of you. Let me help my boy out. He deserves it.”

He steels his jaw, trying to replenish his rapidly weakening resolve. He exhales heavily before grabbing your chin, eyes serious. “Look at me,” he says sternly. “You stop me if I’m too rough.”

You nod adamantly, “I will.”

You fidget with the loop of his belt, waiting for permission. 

He squeezes your hands slowly, head bowing. “Help me, sweetheart.”

You’re instantly up on your feet, maneuvering him to switch places with you and sit down on the bed. You kneel down in front of him, undoing the clasp on his belt.

You tug his belt off, letting it clatter on the floor before freeing him the rest of the way. To your surprise, his eyes remain on you rather than your actions. He brushes your hair out of your face haphazardly, murmuring, “Pretty fucking girl..”

You keen at his words, fighting the urge to pause and rub up against him. Instead, you busy yourself and lick a line up his cock, immediately feeling his body stutter. You lick another stripe, this time adding a kiss afterwards.

His hands squeeze at the comforter under him, “Baby, please.”

You give a short nod before taking him in your mouth completely. He groans like it’s automatic, body practically vibrating in place. You rest your hands over his and he’s quick to turn his own over to hold onto yours.

It only works as a momentary distraction, as one of his hands leaves your grasp to move your hair from blocking his view again, petting your head nicely as you suck him off. “Oh, good girl. My good girl.”

He babbles when he gets overwhelmed during sex, though it doesn’t happen often. And especially not like this.

“Fucking—” he stammers, “God, you’re so—”

Frankly, the image of you on your knees in front of him, so willing and eager to help him out…it’s killing him. He’s putting absolutely all of his remaining restraint into not taking over and fucking your mouth the way he wants to—and it shows—so you’re doing your best to take as much of him in your mouth as you can and using your hand to compensate for the rest.

His head bobs back as his hand falls to a rest atop your head. His breathing is deep and heavy and you can see the way his abs flex through his restraint. His hand briefly fists up before stuttering back to lay open-palmed on your head.

“Oh, baby—” he lets out a gravelly moan and his arms nearly give out from holding him up as he comes.

You happily collect it on your tongue and he audibly groans when you swallow.

He’s quick to pull you up off the floor and place you on the bed so he can clamor over you. You fall back to have your arms hold you up as he finds your lips. 

“Take your shirt off,” he tells you breathlessly. “Please.”

You oblige without hesitation as he kisses and gropes along your torso. You don’t realize what he’s doing until he’s at face level with your underwear, fingers dipping under the band.

You sit up onto your hands, “Jay, you don’t have to—”

He shakes his head, “‘M not gonna hurt you,” he mumbles, very adamant. “Not doin’ it.”

It’s been a long running personal requirement for Jason to thoroughly prep you in some way before fucking you, and he’s right for it—you would definitely get hurt if he didn’t.

You feel conflicted about it now though, like it’s not fair of you to let him pay such mind to you when he’s quite literally in unprecedented pain.

But he slips your underwear down without hesitation, not wasting any time in getting to work. He doesn’t start with his usual teasing and build-up, instead he goes straight into licking at your core, eyes closed and strands of white hair stuck to his forehead. 

He hooks one hand around your knee and the other wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer. He used the newfound proximity to lap at you with more concentration and purpose, quite literally devouring you. You struggle to keep your breathing in tune with the rest of your body, not having been prepared for so much so quickly.

He’s eating you out like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, not giving himself any time to breathe or even think about anything else. You’re about to push him away so that he’ll take a breath or two when he moans into your cunt, instantly veering your brain straight off course.

He breaks from licking your pussy only to change course in favor of sucking on your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses every few seconds. You thread your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him as best you can.

This is a new experience for both of you in terms of intensity and desperation and it has you feeling like you were injected with the same toxin he was. It throws you so completely out of your senses that you don’t even notice that he’s rutting into the bed as he kisses you. Though, odds are he doesn’t realize he’s doing it either.

His grip on you tightens as he gets more fervent, the dig from the indents of his fingers promising to bruise. His eyes flutter as he makes out with your pussy, little mewls making their way through periodically.

“Jay—” you cry, tugging harder than you’d meant to on his hair. He hums in response, letting you know that he’s here, he’s with you, he’ll take care of you. 

Even high out of his mind he can still read you like a book, and can tell that you’re nearing your peak. He gets meditated and precise with his actions, leading you right up to the edge. You whimper again and he begins to rut harder.

It takes only a few moments of this repetition for you to briefly tense up before you start to tremble, heat flooding through your body. The saccharine new taste of your cum motivates him to reach his own end, moaning into you and sending a second wave of rapture over you.

You exhale heavily as his forehead drops against your stomach, catching his breath. It doesn’t take him very long. 

You can just start to realize the persistent trembling in your thighs when he licks another stripe down your pussy. You whine, sitting up on your elbows and squirming higher up on the bed.

He pulls back murmuring, “Sorry.” He kisses the inside of your thigh, “Sorry.”

You watch as he pushes up on his forearms to look at you proper, seeming almost dizzy. “I need..I need…” his shoulders drop. “Please.”

You just nod, giving him permission to do whatever he needs. 

He pulls you up by the waist and tugs you into him as close as he can, kissing you hard. You move to hold his jaw in your hands, stroking your thumb across lightly. He leans you backwards to lay you down flat, head just below the pillows. He folds over you easily, kisses becoming less and less intentional in placement as his hands stroke and squeeze up your sides. 

He pulls away only to glance down as he lines himself up with you, pushing in slowly. He peers back up at your face as he does, watching carefully to make sure it doesn’t hurt.

You hold onto his shoulders as you take him, the stretch feeling significant but familiar.

He kisses your cheek once he’s fully inside and begins to rock in and out of you slowly. The pace picks up quickly as he continues to makeout with you.

A particularly intense thrust has you wrapping your arms fully around the frame of his shoulders, hugging him close to you. He immerses himself in the crook of your neck, fucking you with deeper and more punctuated strokes than you can remember.

“Jay,” you gasp as he places firm kisses across your jaw like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that he fucking loves you.

His thrusts gradually get faster and while it’s perfectly overwhelming for you, it doesn’t seem to be enough for him. 

He huffs before pulling out of you without warning. He untangles your arms from around him so he can flip you over to lay on your stomach. He pulls you back up just as quickly, arm wrapped around your torso, leaving you to hold yourself up by your hands and knees as he kisses on your neck messily.

This time when he reenters you he continues on with his previous pace, taking you by surprise once again. Your mouth is practically hanging open as he ruts into you, successfully sending your thoughts straight out of your head.

He lays kisses down your spine murmuring, “I love you.” He moves in and out of you without falter, “Thank you, thank you..”

His hands hold your waist in place, keeping you steady for both of your sakes. Multiple times his grip tightens only to loosen the second he realizes how hard he’s squeezing you. You don’t mind though, you’ve never had any trouble revering marks left behind by him before. 

“It’s—” you pant, “It’s okay—” you reach back to put your hand over his, pressing down.

His brash hold returns upon the permission, more assured. “Good girl, good—” he praises, “So fucking good for me, baby.”

He reaches around and dips his free hand below your hips, beginning to rub circles on your clit.

Your arms shake and you worry that they’re nearing buckling, but, attuned with you as ever, his arm wraps tighter around your middle, pulling you up a bit higher so that you barely have to mind any of the work of holding yourself up.

He makes sure to support your weight nicely, holding you in a way that he knows won’t be uncomfortable for you. His circles never cease, never falter from that just right pace he’s come to know like the back of his hand.

You’re brought to your high by the arrival of his, struggling to keep your head upright as you come.

He thumps down over to the side to lay on his back, chest heaving. You pick up your head to look over at him, finding that he doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as you’re sure you do. Still, he breathes heavy, pupils blown out and sweaty.

You notice how his fists clinch up and loosen a couple times over, trying to convince himself that he’s done, he doesn’t need any more from you, he’s all better now. 

But you also notice that he’s still hard. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, dead set on not looking at you and having to confront that he really, really does still need you.

So you force yourself to sit up, placing a hand on his chest for balance. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to relax for your sake but that’s the last thing you want him to do.

You push yourself up and over his waist, perching over his abs and brushing his hair back from his forehead. You press a kiss to his head before sitting up on your knees and reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance.

You plant a hand on his chest as you sink down onto him with a deep breath.

“You’re okay,” he rasps, watching in mesmerization as you start to lift your weight up slowly off of your thighs and sink back down.

“I’m okay,” you confirm, guiding his hands to your hips. The presence of his hands on you feels like reassurance and works wonders to help you pick back up some of your energy.

The pace you latch onto feels good, for both of you, but you realize fairly quickly that you’re not going to be able to go as fast as he needs you to.

His hands slip down from your hips to your upper thighs, helping you bob up and down. It doesn’t take long for this to give way to him grabbing your hips and moving you entirely himself.

You watch his arm muscles flex as he shifts you around, leaving you awed with the way he shows virtually no struggle while shifting the majority of your body weight up and down over and over again. Just being completely manhandled by him has you letting out an involuntary moan, letting your head fall back.

“There you go, there you go,” he coos, motions without cessation.

He has you riding him faster than you ever have before and it becomes overwhelming quickly. But Jason, ever the caretaker, coaches you through it, encouraging your every movement.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, watching the way your breasts bounce. “Perfect fucking thing.”

The acclaim in his voice makes your eyes shut and your diaphragm shake, all while he continues to fuck you senseless. 

Your body stutters above him, hands flying onto his for support. He comes only moments later, seemingly the only thing that could break his concentration for ragdolling you. The following release of your hips has you slumping over onto his chest, face laying in the bend of his neck.

He turns his head wearily to you, rubbing a hand up your back. “‘R you okay?” he slurs out.

You hum feebly, eyes unable to stay open.

“Can I…?” It takes hearing the words for you to realize that somehow he’s still hard.

You try to nod hard enough that it can be distinguished against the heaviness of your breathing, though you can’t be sure you were successful.

He sighs, “Baby…”

His hangup is immediately clear to you, even through the haze of being post-three orgasms in less than thirty minutes. It takes real, measurable effort to get this singular word through, but you manage.

“Yes,” you breathe out. A ‘yes’ is going to have to work for him because you don’t have a shot at stringing together anymore syllables.

He places a gentle hand on the back of your head, his other landing on your lower back. He slowly starts to fuck you again, this time much softer than before. It’s calm enough that you can settle into the fatigue in your bones and start to feel the exhaustion sweep over your consciousness.

In between kisses laid sweetly upon your neck, He murmurs affections to you the whole time, though you lose almost all of them to sleep. He moves you around a bit more as he goes, though careful to be gentle enough that he doesn’t disturb your peace anymore than he has to.

By the time he’s done he’s bordering on completely out of it and can’t do anything but collapse atop you, nuzzling into your neck.

There’s a pretty consistent pattern that can be found when helping him deal with post-patrol aftermath. Scarecrow’s never any good, his pop-ups tend to end in winding Jason down from panic. There’s always injuries after Bane and invariably there’ll be a mess from Clayface. Half the time he has to get an entirely new suit after a run-in with Killer Croc. So as far as Gotham’s problems go, Poison Ivy isn’t the worst. 

the morning after epilogue

✨ oh you don’t reblog? that’s…no, that’s totally fine for you! im so happy for you…i mean its just been out of fashion for like three seasons but yeah, that shows a lot of…confidence! ✨

[pierppasolini]

Cowboy Bebop - Session #8: Waltz for Venus

[txttletale]

Saw a tweet that said something around:

"cannot emphasize enough how horrid chatgpt is, y'all. it's depleting our global power & water supply, stopping us from thinking or writing critically, plagiarizing human artists. today's students are worried they won't have jobs because of AI tools. this isn't a world we deserve"

I've seen some of your AI posts and they seem nuanced, but how would you respond do this? Cause it seems fairly-on point and like the crux of most worries. Sorry if this is a troublesome ask, just trying to learn so any input would be appreciated.

i would simply respond that almost none of that is true.

'depleting the global power and water supply'

something i've seen making the roudns on tumblr is that chatgpt queries use 3 watt-hours per query. wow, that sounds like a lot, especially with all the articles emphasizing that this is ten times as much as google search. let's check some other very common power uses:

running a microwave for ten minutes is 133 watt-hours

gaming on your ps5 for an hour is 200 watt-hours

watching an hour of netflix is 800 watt-hours

and those are just domestic consumer electricty uses!

a single streetlight's typical operation 1.2 kilowatt-hours a day (or 1200 watt-hours)

a digital billboard being on for an hour is 4.7 kilowatt-hours (or 4700 watt-hours)

i think i've proved my point, so let's move on to the bigger picture: there are estimates that AI is going to cause datacenters to double or even triple in power consumption in the next year or two! damn that sounds scary. hey, how significant as a percentage of global power consumption are datecenters?

1-1.5%.

ah. well. nevertheless!

what about that water? yeah, datacenters use a lot of water for cooling. 1.7 billion gallons (microsoft's usage figure for 2021) is a lot of water! of course, when you look at those huge and scary numbers, there's some important context missing. it's not like that water is shipped to venus: some of it is evaporated and the rest is generally recycled in cooling towers. also, not all of the water used is potable--some datacenters cool themselves with filtered wastewater.

most importantly, this number is for all data centers. there's no good way to separate the 'AI' out for that, except to make educated guesses based on power consumption and percentage changes. that water figure isn't all attributable to AI, plenty of it is necessary to simply run regular web servers.

but sure, just taking that number in isolation, i think we can all broadly agree that it's bad that, for example, people are being asked to reduce their household water usage while google waltzes in and takes billions of gallons from those same public reservoirs.

but again, let's put this in perspective: in 2017, coca cola used 289 billion liters of water--that's 7 billion gallons! bayer (formerly monsanto) in 2018 used 124 million cubic meters--that's 32 billion gallons!

so, like. yeah, AI uses electricity, and water, to do a bunch of stuff that is basically silly and frivolous, and that is broadly speaking, as someone who likes living on a planet that is less than 30% on fire, bad. but if you look at the overall numbers involved it is a miniscule drop in the ocean! it is a functional irrelevance! it is not in any way 'depleting' anything!

'stopping us from thinking or writing critically'

this is the same old reactionary canard we hear over and over again in different forms. when was this mythic golden age when everyone was thinking and writing critically? surely we have all heard these same complaints about tiktok, about phones, about the internet itself? if we had been around a few hundred years earlier, we could have heard that "The free access which many young people have to romances, novels, and plays has poisoned the mind and corrupted the morals of many a promising youth."

it is a reactionary narrative of societal degeneration with no basis in anything. yes, it is very funny that laywers have lost the bar for trusting chatgpt to cite cases for them. but if you think that chatgpt somehow prevented them from thinking critically about its output, you're accusing the tail of wagging the dog.

nobody who says shit like "oh wow chatgpt can write every novel and movie now. yiou can just ask chatgpt to give you opinions and ideas and then use them its so great" was, like, sitting in the symposium debating the nature of the sublime before chatgpt released. there is no 'decay', there is no 'decline'. you should be suspicious of those narratives wherever you see them, especially if you are inclined to agree!

plagiarizing human artists

nah. i've been over this ad infinitum--nothing 'AI art' does could be considered plagiarism without a definition so preposterously expansive that it would curtail huge swathes of human creative expression.

AI art models do not contain or reproduce any images. the result of them being trained on images is a very very complex statistical model that contains a lot of large-scale statistical data about all those images put together (and no data about any of those individual images).

to draw a very tortured comparison, imagine you had a great idea for how to make the next Great American Painting. you loaded up a big file of every norman rockwell painting, and you made a gigantic excel spreadsheet. in this spreadsheet you noticed how regularly elements recurred: in each cell you would have something like "naturalistic lighting" or "sexually unawakened farmers" and the % of times it appears in his paintings. from this, you then drew links between these cells--what % of paintings containing sexually unawakened farmers also contained naturalistic lighting? what % also contained a white guy?

then, if you told someone else with moderately competent skill at painting to use your excel spreadsheet to generate a Great American Painting, you would likely end up with something that is recognizably similar to a Norman Rockwell painting: but any charge of 'plagiarism' would be absolutely fucking absurd!

this is a gross oversimplification, of course, but it is much closer to how AI art works than the 'collage machine' description most people who are all het up about plagiarism talk about--and if it were a collage machine, it would still not be plagiarising because collages aren't plagiarism.

(for a better and smarter explanation of the process from soneone who actually understands it check out this great twitter thread by @reachartwork)

today's students are worried they won't have jobs because of AI tools

i mean, this is true! AI tools are definitely going to destroy livelihoods. they will increase productivty for skilled writers and artists who learn to use them, which will immiserate those jobs--they will outright replace a lot of artists and writers for whom quality is not actually important to the work they do (this has already essentially happened to the SEO slop website industry and is in the process of happening to stock images).

jobs in, for example, product support are being cut for chatgpt. and that sucks for everyone involved. but this isn't some unique evil of chatgpt or machine learning, this is just the effect that technological innovation has on industries under capitalism!

there are plenty of innovations that wiped out other job sectors overnight. the camera was disastrous for portrait artists. the spinning jenny was famously disastrous for the hand-textile workers from which the luddites drew their ranks. retail work was hit hard by self-checkout machines. this is the shape of every single innovation that can increase productivity, as marx explains in wage labour and capital:

“The greater division of labour enables one labourer to accomplish the work of five, 10, or 20 labourers; it therefore increases competition among the labourers fivefold, tenfold, or twentyfold. The labourers compete not only by selling themselves one cheaper than the other, but also by one doing the work of five, 10, or 20; and they are forced to compete in this manner by the division of labour, which is introduced and steadily improved by capital. Furthermore, to the same degree in which the division of labour increases, is the labour simplified. The special skill of the labourer becomes worthless. He becomes transformed into a simple monotonous force of production, with neither physical nor mental elasticity. His work becomes accessible to all; therefore competitors press upon him from all sides. Moreover, it must be remembered that the more simple, the more easily learned the work is, so much the less is its cost to production, the expense of its acquisition, and so much the lower must the wages sink – for, like the price of any other commodity, they are determined by the cost of production. Therefore, in the same manner in which labour becomes more unsatisfactory, more repulsive, do competition increase and wages decrease”

this is the process by which every technological advancement is used to increase the domination of the owning class over the working class. not due to some inherent flaw or malice of the technology itself, but due to the material realtions of production.

so again the overarching point is that none of this is uniquely symptomatic of AI art or whatever ever most recent technological innovation. it is symptomatic of capitalism. we remember the luddites primarily for failing and not accomplishing anything of meaning.

if you think it's bad that this new technology is being used with no consideration for the planet, for social good, for the flourishing of human beings, then i agree with you! but then your problem shouldn't be with the technology--it should be with the economic system under which its use is controlled and dictated by the bourgeoisie.

[chlorinecake]

﴾ This Is How Much IDGAF — 𝐇.𝐇𝐉 ׅ ㅤ֢ ㅤׄㅤ

▹PAIRING: Possessive Boyfriend Hyunjin x F. Reader

▹ GENRE: ⚠︎ Smut, Model / Idol Au, Angst, Fluff

── 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 ܃ While at a prestigious fashion event with your boyfriend, you two made your public debut as a celebrity couple. However, after Hyunjin caught sight of you mingling with a flirtatious stranger, he was determined to remind you who you belonged to before the night was out...

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, foul language, kissing, jealous!hyunjin lol, degrading kink, face slapping, oral (m. receiving), orgasm denial, spit kink, S&M, some spanking, rough unprotected sex, hair pulling

▹ 𝐖ORD 𝐂OUNT ⨾ 4074 ࿐Day 11

AS HYUNJIN'S GIRLFRIEND, you had always felt comfortable stepping into the limelight that often surrounded him, even when his fame far surpassed yours.

It never bothered you that he was the center of attention at events like these, and in fact, you genuinely preferred blending into the crowd at times...

It’s actually how you first met each other.

You were relatively new in the modeling world, and Hyunjin was an A-lister. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes when he approached you, asking for your name and if you knew where the drink bar was.

Since then, you two are both a happy couple now, and with that, Hyunjin wanted to make tonight special for you; he planned to publicly announce your relationship and the idea of stepping out as a couple made your palms sweat with anticipation.

Hyunjin stood in front of the mirror while adjusting his necktie; it was something he did all the time on his own, but today, the task was proving to be much more difficult than usual.

You were busy retouching your makeup when you caught on to his little sighs of frustration, and immediately, putting your makeup brush down, you replaced his anxious fingers with your own, adjusting the tie flaps for him with meticulous precision.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin said with a soft smile, but you could tell it was a forced one given the tension in his eyebrows.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you returned, giving the tie a few more tugs until it was just right, “I’ve never seen you this nervous before…”

He chuckled at your words as you took a step back to check him out, the sleek black suit he wore hugging his figure perfectly with every line accentuating his modelesque figure.

“Me neither,” he replied, in between applying some final touches of his cologne, “I just don’t know what to expect from tonight…”

“Then don’t expect anything at all,” you whispered, gently squeezing his bicep through his suit, “you’re gonna do great, alright?”

His tender gaze flickered from your face and back to the mirror as he took in the reflection of you two standing beside each other, and you looked absolutely stunning together.

Hyunjin could almost see all the adoring headlines and flashing lights in the back of his mind already, making his heart flutter with pride.

“Alright,” he repeated, and much more confidently this time, snagging off his necktie single-handedly as the extra fabric was only making it harder for him to relax and he looked much hotter without it anyway.

Hooking your hand in his, the two of you exchanged a brief kiss, waltzing out of the dressing room and beyond excited to have attended the fashion event.

Stepping out of the sleek limousine, you and Hyunjin soon arrived at the venue, and the atmosphere was electric.

Famous faces mingled in designer attire, and fashion elitists swarmed around the gleaming runway, champagne glasses glad in hand.

Admittedly, the scene was pretentiously grandiose, from the red carpet outside to the elaborate decor inside the atmosphere was made even more dynamic thanks to the electric dance music playing.

It was a bit overwhelming when people started to approach the two of you because as mentioned previously, you both were accredited to your own standard of fame; you had your past and future fashion representatives tugging at your attention while Hyunjin interacted with fellow models from his circle as well.

You both radiated joy, your smiles bright and infectious, as grace and charm seemed to flow from you like a warm glow. With your arms intertwined, you were resolute in your commitment to remain side by side all evening.

And ironically so, as almost every conversation, including the harsh barking from photographers, led to the same, faithful, question: “Are you two together?”

As brief as it was, the question meant the world to you.

The warmth of adoration that surrounded you two tonight was undeniable, and it melted your heart to see how confident he was.

Scanning the room, it seemed like everyone’s eyes were on you two now, so it was like you had no other choice but to split up to take the attention off yourselves.

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby,” Hyunjin whispered while kissing the temple of your head, “don’t go too far, now…”

“I won’t,” you smiled, letting go of his hand before eventually finding yourself by the drink bar, chatting it up with someacquaintances and familiar faces.

You remember running into Momo, who actually worked at the same company as your boyfriend, and she congratulated you on coming public about your relationship.

“That takes a lot of courage to do in this industry, and I couldn’t be happier for you and Hyunjin,” she hummed before eventually walking away, leaving you to yourself again.

After a while, Hyunjin still hadn’t come to find you yet…

That’s when a certain partygoer made his way over to you, a glint of mischief dangling in his eyes as he winked, making your face heat up as you didn’t know how to respond to such behavior.

He had been noticeably eyeing since you and Hyunjin parted ways, and before you knew it, he was already making small talk with you.

“Nice dress,” he began in a voice smoother than the champagne bubbling over in everyone’s glasses. “And is that a Versace necklace? It looks stunning on your complexion.”

He reached out his hand to examine the chain up close now, and you internally shivered at the feeling of his cold fingers grazing your chest.

“Thank you,” you returned shyly, “my boyfriend’s actually an ambassador for Versace… this is a custom-made piece…”

The man gave you a look, one that told you he wasn’t buying the whole ‘boyfriend name drop’ trick at all, so he continued.

“I suppose that makes you a very lucky girl then,” he smirked before finally letting go of your necklace, “is that ring from him, too?”

His confidence was off-putting, but you brushed the annoyance aside, thinking it was harmless banter, “Yeah, it’s a promise ring…”

“Oh, I know what it is,” he chuckled sarcastically while licking his lips, “Though, I can’t say you’re fortunate anymore if Mr. Versace doesn’t even let you touch him—”

“It’s a symbol of our loyalty,” you corrected him as sternly as you could.

And giving him the benefit of the doubt, you assumed that the champagne had something to do with this man’s inappropriate boldness.

“My apologies, darling,” he said more quietly this time, “I didn’t mean to offend you, that’s just my sense of humor…”

“It’s alright, no offense taken,” you replied, not meeting his face now as his sharp features were only magnified under the venue lighting…

The two of you exchanged a few more words before you felt a sharp grip on your arm, one that was masked by a forced smile of pleasantness.

It was Hyunjin, who unbeknownst to you, had watched the entire exchange… his previously tender expression shifted as he caught sight of the guy leaning in too closely, laughing too loudly, and getting too touchy.

You felt a sudden tension in the air; the warmth of the event seemed to drain away now that Hyunjin was by your side again.

“Hey,” Hyunjin started, and the typically playful tone of his voice was replaced by a steely edge. You could see the anger flaring behind his dark eyes, making your stomach flutter at the way his jaw visibly tightened as he spoke, “I think you should leave.”

And with this, the stranger only smirked, perhaps not taking your boyfriend seriously, but that only fueled Hyunjin's possessiveness even more.

“Look man, we were only talking—”

“Well did she tell you she was spoken for?… Huh?” Hyunjin asked, his protective and jealous grip on you growing tighter.

“I mean, she might’ve mentioned it, but with looks like hers, you can’t blame a guy for not caring, right?”

Hyunjin scoffed, and you felt your heartbeat increase with each passing second.

Before you could even process all that was happening, your boyfriend wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him just to make it undeniably clear who you belonged to.

“Come on, babe,” he said with a forced smile, dragging you away from the unwelcome attention, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet…”

Of course, that was a lie, but he only said it because he didn’t want the creepy guy trying to follow you two…

You kind of wished you knew the strange man’s name now, but it wouldn’t make a difference to Hyunjin anyway; he was already pissed at you… pissed that you just stood there and let that guy disrespect your relationship like that, and pissed that you didn’t walk away and just stood there, soaking up all his bullshit…

The rest of the night played out like a dance that lacked harmony; Hyunjin's smile never wavered from his face, just as his grip never wavered from your hand.

A throng of people already began to disperse out and about the main floor, though Hyunjin didn't even bother waiting for everyone to leave.

Walking past the elevator, he steered you towards the stairs, his eyes ridden with determination as he led you to a secluded area in the building.

The space oddly mimicked a kitchen given the steel accents and tile flooring…

You knew what was coming, and a strange mix of dread and exhilaration filled you as Hyunjin’s playful façade vanished completely.

“What the hell was that ____?” Hyunjin hissed without hesitation, voice low but intense as he took off his jacket and tossed it aside, already feeling too hot with his rage.

“I thought you knew better than to entertain guys like that… God, I… I brought you here to support me, ____…. to celebrate us… not so you could run off and flirt with strangers—”

“You know damn well I wasn’t flirting with him, Hyunjin,” you protested through a shaky voice, finally meeting his eyes, “I would never do something like that to you…”

Hyunjin’s expression softened slightly, but the tension remained as bold as ever.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you allowed it, ____,” Hyunjin returned, and you felt your spirit break all overagain.

“What do you mean I allowed it—what was I supposed to do, Hyunjin?… Scream like a damsel in distress while you were chatting it up with elite designers?” You raised your voice at him, and your use of sarcasm only provoked him further.

Pressing you against the wall, you felt your heart skip a bit at the anger radiating off of him now, and if he wasn’t so handsome, he’d likely look like a raging bull at this moment.

“I don’t want anyone thinking they have a chance with you, ____… I’m not just yelling at you for fun,” he scorned, only to take his free hand and hold your face in place.

You felt so ashamed at this moment, so confused; it was never your intention to encourage the stranger to behave in such a way, and you’d say Hyunjin was getting way too worked up over a simple interaction—

“Get out of your head slut, I’m still talking to you,” Hyunjin went on, keeping your body fused against the wall, “What were you just thinking about, anyways, huh?…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, and it had everything to do with the tears forming in your eyes now; Hyunjin had never called you such a thing—

“Oh, so you’re the kind of slut that cries instead of talking now?” He continued to degrade you, “because you sure had a lot to say when that guy had his hands on you…”

You shook your head at his words, not even bothering to hide your tears anymore as a few slid down your face anyway.

“Aww… What is it, dolly… hm? Do I have to touch you to get you to talk for me?” He whispered condescendingly, only to tighten his grip on your face and force a weak whimper out of you…

“H-Hyunjin—“ you stuttered while lifting your arm to remove his painful grip from your face, but he instead found your hand in his own, pinning your wrist to the wall.

“You don’t get to touch me right now,” he slithered impossibly close to your face now, and his voice went straight to your core, lingering there long enough for you to feel yourself pulse slightly.

It was embarrassing, honestly… the fact that you were getting turned on by the cruelty in his words…

Hyunjin looked down for a second, letting out an attractive sigh to exhale some of his nerves.

Your emotions were still spiraling inside you, and despite how the look in his eyes should’ve intimidated you, it only turned you on even more, and in all honesty, he was feeling the same way himself.

The only reason he looked back up so suddenly was because he caught sight of the way you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together for leverage, and he felt himself getting harder by the minute.

“Why’d you just stand there, love?… knowing I’d get upset like this…” Hyunjin whispered, voice hoarse as he looked at you with his piercing gaze, “Unless you wanted to make me mad… is that what happened?”

He honestly had rendered you speechless; you had no clue what he wanted to hear right now, and it didn’t help that your brain kept dozing off, failing to focus on anything but the thought of him fucking you—

“Hyunjin!” You gasped, feeling a wad of his spit decorate your face now.

“That’s how dumb sluts are treated,” he said, and it was clear that his patience had reached its limit on tolerating your bullshit. “And since you don’t have anything to say other than my name, I’ll just have to find a new use for your mouth.”

Letting your wrist free and removing his grip from your face, his hands find your shoulders, shoving you down to the ground knees-first before promptly undoing his pants, and he can feel your weak eyes watching his every move now…

His dick is quick to come out, too, eager and erect as one of his hands finds your scalp, angling your head upward to face him.

“Suck it,” he commands, and your lips hesitantly but surely invite his cock into the warmth of your mouth, and he visibly bites back a groan at the feeling.

Needing something to brace on, your hands find his thighs, but he swats them away, staying firm on his rule that you don’t get to touch him.

Your first instinct was to use your hands to help you take his length, too, but you knew better than to give that a try.

Opening your throat the best you could, you bobbed your head against his shaft at a medium pace, making sure you tightened your lips around the base just how he liked it.

But by now, it was getting much harder for him to seem unfazed as tiny groans of pleasure started to slip past his mouth the more and more you sucked, genuinely enjoying the taste of him.

Hyunjin was embarrassingly close to finishing, cursing under his breath while guiding your head to move a little slower, as you had only been sucking for a few minutes.

That’s when suddenly, he shoved your head down as far as your throat could go before you started gagging.

“Such a pathetic cock whore,” he spat, feeling himself twitch at the sight of foggy eyeliner staining your face now.

Pulling out of your mouth, a dense string of precum kept you together until he told you to stand up for him.

You were completely drunk on lust right now, and that was all without having a single swig of alcohol in your system.

Hyunjin’s hands found your waist, and you were promptly laid on the countertop, back-first.

The metal surface was cold against your skin, making your whole body shiver before your boyfriend eventually grabbed your thighs, roughly angling them so he could have perfect access to your cunt.

Leaning down, he was gracious enough to find your lips in a kiss, even though affection from him was one of the last things he felt you deserved right now.

“So wet already,” he murmured against your mouth, reaching down a hand to glide his digits over your folds, and you felt your abdomen tighten every time one of his silver rings grazed your sensitive sex, “Did that guy turn you on, or is it just me?”

“Ahh~” You moaned suddenly, and only because he slapped your cunt the moment you tried putting your hands in his hair for leverage.

He knew how much you loved his hair, and just touching him in general; not allowing you to have such access to him was doing exactly what he intended it to do…

“You know I only get this way for you, Hyun,” you whined beneath him, and he raised his eyebrows, surprised you had anything to say at all given your pathetic silence thus far.

However, his stoic expression soon returned as he brushed off your words, determined to teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget.

Hyunjin lined himself up with your eager hole, preventing any other thoughts from crossing your mind as he buried himself deep inside you, stretching your walls out inch by inch.

“Here’s something you can think about the next time another guy flirts with you,” he groaned at the tightness, and you swear a part of your heart crumbled at the fiery look on his face.

After the first few snaps of his hips, Hyunjin had your voice echoing off the walls, thighs trembling at the sides of his waist as he pounded into you at a pace you weren’t expecting so soon.

“That’s it, slut… let everyone hear how I make you mine,” he whispered, leaning back down to leave a trail of sloppy, hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, the both of you humming at sensation.

“Fuck~” you cried out with your eyes sealed shut, getting lost in the rhythm of your body rocking up and down against the countertop.

Your tits shook with the movements, and his pelvis never felt so good while grinding against your burning clit.

“You like it rough, don't you, baby?” Your boyfriend grunted, his voice strained with desire and effort.

Your hands went to find his shoulders for balance, but he had them pinned to the countertop in a matter of no time, snickering to himself at the frustration brewing on your features.

“Aww, don’t tell me you thought I’d move on that easily,” he smirked, only to hiss the moment you very intentionally clenched your walls around him.

“Please,” you begged, and you’re not sure what for, but Hyunjin obliged anyway, pounding into you with an increasing force with his balls slapping against your ass with each deep thrust.

The sound of your flesh slapping together filled your ears now, accompanied by shaky pleas and needy moans.

“God,” he panted desperately, releasing your wrists so he grip your thighs again, spreading you wider as he continued to punish your pussy.

Leaning down, Hyunjin’s mouth captured one of your erect nipples through the thin fabric of your dress, sucking and nibbling on it gently to send shocks of pleasure throughout your sweaty body.

“You’re mine, ____… all fucking mine,” he whispered through slurred words, and his voice was so low that you felt it in your knees.

You were getting close to the edge already as your body coiled tighter with each hit of his hips, but from experience, you could Hyunjin was even closer.

His mouth was right below your ear now as you struggled to keep your hands off of him, and with one more faithful attempt, you let your fingers get lost in his scalp, but this time, he didn’t reject your touch.

With gentle eyes, your boyfriend lifted his weight off of you, holding your face in place while finding your lips in yet another passionate kiss.

And was with that alone that your walls shattered around him, clenching and milking his cock as his entire body quivered at the powerful orgasm washing over him.

The metal countertop no longer seemed cold as his warm cum splashed inside you, his muscular body tensing slightly as adorably throaty groans slipped past his swollen lips.

“Hyunjin,” your voice came out quietly and breathy as his hips suddenly stopped moving, and when his dark eyes peered into your weak ones, you knew your misery wasn’t over quite yet.

“Oh, don’t even start,” he began, slipping out of your cunt with a foul wet sound, and your core almost cried at the sudden emptiness, “You’re lucky you even got that much…”

As badly as your inner being wanted to curse him out for chasing his orgasm only to deny you of a release, you decided it was best to simply sulk and accept it.

Sliding off the counter, Hyunjin helped you out by wiping the evidence of arousal and intimacy from between your legs before readjusting your clothes for you…

It was an interesting form of déjà vu as you thought back to a few hours prior when you helped him fasten his tie back.

Giving him a playful look, your fingers found the side of your dress as you gently tugged, alluding to the way he tossed his tie away earlier.

“I can’t believe you’re still trying to be bad after everything I just did to you” he chuckled, playfully swatting your hand away. His laughter, although brief, was contagious, and you couldn't help but giggle yourself now as you leaned against his shoulder given the way your legs started to tingle from falling asleep. 

The warmth of his body was comforting, and you felt a sense of safety in his presence once he secured a protective hand at your waist.

Hyunjin was sure to grab his jacket in his free hand as well, the fabric draping over your shoulders like a shield against the cool evening air as you both made your way back to the main venue.

The photographers were too busy capturing shots of the models strutting down the runway to notice you two slipping in, and thankfully so since neither of you looked as put together as you did half an hour ago with your hair slightly tousled and his shirt wrinkled from the prior fit of sexual tension.

You and Hyunjin managed to snag some seats in the back that were nestled under the soft, ambient lighting, casting a subtle glow around you. 

Slender silhouettes of models glided before your eyes with their outfits appearing as blurs of color and fabric... though,your focus was entirely on the man beside you.

Leaning closer to him, you rested your head on his shoulder, sighing at the comforting scent of his cologne as a shy smirk danced on his lips.

“Are you okay, love?.... I mean... was I maybe too harsh earlier?” A now much calmer Hyunjin inquired through a whisper, voice low and teasing, but there was a hint of genuine concern in his eyes, “You looked like you were on the verge of passing out, honestly...”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his words, nudging him with your elbow; “I did not! I was just… enjoying the moment,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. 

“Enjoying the moment, huh?” He repeated playfully, raising an eyebrow at your demeanor, “Is that what you call it when you can hardly stand up on your own without even finishing?” 

You laughed, the sound light and airy, and it felt good to let go of the tension from before. “Okay, maybe you were a little over the top, I'll admit--”

“Baby, why didn't you tell me?!”

“But,” you went on to continue, dragging out the word to get his attention again, “I still enjoyed every last second of it...”

He fell quiet at your words as yet another shy smile tugged at his lips, revealing his adorable dimples, “Promise?”

“Promise,” you recited, tugging the swell of his bicep even tighter now as both your eyes turned back to the stage, making sure to stay close to each other for the rest of the night.

✎𓂃 Thanks for reading DAY 11's fic entry for my 2024 Kinktober Event !! Once again, I'm a bit late to posting this, but nonetheless, if you're interested, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here !!

♱ PERM TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy (miss you), @wonbinisbabygurl @watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

♱ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs @mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij @yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess @zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier @idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408 @crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg @d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

[reignpage]

“We did a good job, didn’t we?”

You smile at Kento. He brings you a drink and you clink the glass with his.

The night’s turned out great — the band you fought with him on is proving to be quite the success, especially with the ladies, the starter he fought you on was a hit with everyone raving about the ‘perfect balance of sweetness and saltiness,’ and the venue you chose together is nothing short of a masterpiece. 

There are soft, warm lights strung over a canopy of wild flowers. Cool night’s breeze blows gently between dancing bodies, bringing forth a relaxing spring scent and washing away the sweat sticking to your skin, a consequence of swaying to the music for hours after the ceremony. 

He drapes his white blazer over your shoulders and nudges you. Without needing to hear the words, you take his outstretched hands and let him pull you close. There, on the balcony overlooking everyone, partly obscured by shadows and lit up only by the moon, you dance. 

In many ways, this has been a long time coming: you two had been inseparable as children, and then as students, and now as fully-grown adults facing the rest of the world, and the rest of life, together. 

He steps on your toes and bangs his chin against your head. You have to hold him up whilst he gathers his bearings. And then you laugh. It’s so him to have taken all those dancing lessons, for months rehearsing this waltz, and then somehow stumble on the very night it mattered most. But still, he’s holding onto you and that’s more than enough. 

“Have I said how beautiful you look tonight?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. 

Coyly, you respond, “Only about a hundred times, Ken.”

“A hundred?” His low timbre sends shivers down your spine. “I was aiming for a million. I need to step up.”

Someone calls his name. You two part, grinning. A hand of his, the gold band on his finger catching the light, makes a sweep of, well, everything and you know how proud he is, how excited and eager to make the most of his future. Yet, for reasons you can’t dwell on, you don’t quite share that same feeling.

“None of this would have been possible without you, Best Man.”

Then, with the tenderness of a man full of love, he pecks you on the forehead and leaves to be with his best woman. 

[lightseoul]

cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (we're getting there, dw), a lot of cussing (bkg-typical), it's time to meet the bakusquad!, mentions of alcohol, a tiny ass mention of smth nsfw

words. 4.3k (this is getting out of hand. this was way too fun to write, tho!)

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7, part 8, part 9

You check your reflection through your phone’s front camera for the umpteenth time, lurching a bit forward and almost smashing your face with the device when the bus you’re riding drives over a bump.

With a sigh, you glance through the window to your right, spotting the familiar landmark that Kirishima mentioned in passing a few days ago.

A few days ago when he waltzed into the conference room in the middle of your heated conversation with Bakugou.

Right when he dropped that nonsensical one-liner, Bakugou was on him in a flash, shoving your other boss so hard that the man stumbled a few steps back in surprise. You watched as they had what seemed to be a wordless exchange, before all the blood appeared to drain from Kirishima’s face, leaving him so pale that you thought the redhead was about to pass out any second.

“Freaking finally—” you recall Kirishima repeating, voice wobbly, “Y-you finally have a g-girlfriend!”

Bakugou didn’t seem too pleased at the shade, encasing his co-founder in a headlock, eventually releasing him after the latter cried out his pleas and apology.

After the man managed to catch his breath, he came up with the suggestion that you hang out with the rest of their friend group.

“It’ll be fun!” he said. “We’d love to get to know you.”

“Tch.” Bakugou merely replied, seemingly not too keen on the idea.

“I don’t know…”

“I can ask PR about it,” Kirishima ignored you, “I bet you being seen with us is good for your image!”

Which leads you to the present moment.

The mechanical voice announces your arrival at the nearest station to the trendy, new, upscale restaurant that Mina specifically picked out for today’s get-together. Kirishima assured you when you, again, showed reluctance when he ran down the details yesterday, saying Kaminari and Sero vouched for it, that it had a built-in arcade or something.

Deep in your thoughts and on autopilot, you hop off the bus and begin your slow but steady trek toward the venue. By the time you reach it, it’s already 6:37 PM, a bit later than your agreed-upon meeting time.

Pushing the glass doors open, you enter the space and swiftly scan the area. Bakugou’s friends, who you just remember also happened to be top pro-heroes, are already packed in a booth near the back of the restaurant. As you walk towards them, you see that Mina, Kirishima, and Sero are seated beside each other while Kaminari is looking a bit lonely on the extra chair at the tail-end of the table. You’re guessing the empty seats in front of the aforementioned three have been reserved for their close friend and you, the fake girlfriend.

Right, you say to yourself. Time to put on a show.

Kirishima is the first one to spot you, and you can’t help the squeeze your heart makes as he visibly brightens up when he does. “Bro, over here!”

At that, you plaster on the friendliest smile you can muster and trudge towards where they are.

“Sorry I’m late, you guys,” you say as you slide into your seat, “I had to call an emergency meeting at work. I came as fast as I could…”

You look at the three, (not really) new faces (because you see them on TV all the time), suddenly feeling nervous and singled out.

Desperate for something familiar to have near you, you ask: “Uh, where’s Bakugou?”

The moment you stutter the question out, you find yourself immediately wanting to take it back, because the air in the room suddenly changes. Sero smirks, Kaminari guffaws, and a devilish grin exponentially grows on Mina’s face.

“Awww, it hasn’t even been ten seconds since you got here and you’re already looking for your mans!” Mina winks at you, “He’s just in the restroom.”

“Bro, it’s about goddamn time Bakugou finally got a girlfriend,” Sero adds.

The girl nods enthusiastically in agreement, “It’s been a long time coming, indeed. Do you have any idea how long he’s been pining for you?”

Negative thirteen days, you think to yourself. But you settle for a hesitant shake of your head.

“Dudes—” Kirishima tries to interject, although his voice is drowned out in the chatter and the marginally too-loud pop music playing in the background.

Sero snorts, “She probably doesn’t, knowing Bakugou. Though—” a look of pure mischief takes over the tape hero’s face as he turns to face you, “—wouldn’t you want to know?”

“I, uh—”

“Remember the first time Bakugou got a text message from her when we were out getting drinks for Ei’s birthday two years ago?” Mina asks the guys, although the question seems more rhetorical than not. “He choked on his beer so hard I was surprised he didn’t cough his freaking lungs out.”

“Mina—” Kirishima tries again.

Sero barks out a laugh at the memory, “That’s nothing compared to when he got so red in the face when I first insinuated he might have a crush that one time he helped me move into my current place. The big guy didn’t even think twice about hurling a box of clothes at me.”

“Sero—”

“Please!” Kaminari finally pipes in, before gesturing the group to get close with a cheesy, ‘come-wither’ gesture. From the corner of your eye, you see Kirishima mouthing something to the blonde but you don’t quite catch it, eyes drifting back to the latter, more curious than you’d like to admit, even if you’re 99% sure they’re making all of this up to humor you.

The electric hero smirks to himself before prolonging the suspenseful air. “Don’t tell him this, but I sneaked into his bedroom during that sleepover we forced him to host during Thanksgiving last year, supposedly to play a harmless prank on him. And get this—I heard him mumble your name in his sleep.”

“Guys!”

Startled, everyone looks at Kirishima, who’s doing the ‘slicing his neck with his hand’ gesture before sheepishly bringing it to rub at his nape when he feels the group’s attention on him. You scan their faces one by one, not knowing how to react yourself, and you notice what you think is realization dawn on everyone’s faces.

Well, everyone except Kaminari.

You look at the guy who’s apparently been looking at you this entire time, and your reaction to his made-up, albeit intriguing story must be priceless because he puffs up with pride before blurting out: “And it sounded like a moan, too!”

Before you can even choke at your spit in response, you see Sero’s long arm appear behind the blonde a split second before he smacks him on the back of the head.

“Hey!” Kaminari cries out, clutching his head in pain, and you can only stare at the situation in front of you, bug-eyed. “What was that for?!”

“That’s for not knowing when to shut up,” Sero hisses, before shifting to face you, a blinding smile now having replaced the chastising look that was on his face just a brief moment ago. “Now, where were we?”

“Aren’t you shitheads going to order?”

You jump at the gruff voice on your left, and you look up to see Bakugou, decked out in his usual black tee and joggers, frowning at you before his eyes dart to study his friends. Wordlessly, he slides into the booth beside you, and you automatically scoot over to make room for him. Suddenly it makes sense to you why his friends designated this entire side to only the two of you—you sometimes forget that their grumpy friend is abnormally huge—a fact that you get reminded of as he brings his arm around to rest on top of the back of your seat, his wingspan covering almost the entire length of it.

It takes a few seconds for everyone to gather their bearings and faithfully decide that no, he probably didn’t hear all of that—he couldn’t, if they wanted to keep their heads attached to the rest of their bodies—but when they do, they all scramble for the menus and act too innocently like they weren’t just making ridiculous shit up behind Bakugou’s back.

You give the man a hesitant smile yourself when he peers at you, before simply passing you the menu Kirishima handed over your direction.

“Hurry up and choose,” he huffs, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “We ain’t got all day.”

Since your boss arrived at your table, the squad hasn’t said a single thing about Bakugou from the past, particularly stories involving you, which further supports your robust theory that they were just trying to embarrass the guy in front of his alleged girlfriend.

No one brings up what has been said, too, and you take that as your cue to follow suit and keep your mouth shut.

Instead, and to your chagrin, they’ve resorted to buzzing around you, asking all sorts of questions about your life like how long you’ve been working at Bakugou and Kirishima’s agency, what kind of work you do, what you like to do for fun, how many siblings you have, and so on. But they’ve especially enjoyed asking you about Bakugou and your budding relationship, dropping a teasing remark or joke every now and then.

Every now and then as in every other sentence.

You’ve been trying to play it off cooly, lying out of your ass while seeming as natural as you can, but Bakugou isn’t taking it as well as you.

Apparently, and you know now, that the man detests being teased—it’s almost comical how red he gets at the slightest taunt, and you failing to repress a chuckle at the sight nearly grants you a shove from the hotheaded blonde. You look at the sole other girl for help, but Mina only grins at you while wiggling her eyebrows playfully as she sits back to witness the exchange.

But aside from all that, you find yourself quickly bringing down your guard and joining in on the conversation every once in a while, eventually coming to the realization that you’re actually having fun.

It doesn’t take a genius to recognize that Bakugou’s friends are great people, and seeing the man in a different environment than the one you usually find him in is interesting, to say the least.

In the midst of great conversation and in the blink of an eye, dinner is served and devoured, and before you know it, it’s 9 PM and everyone except Bakugou and you are around two to three drinks in.

“Come on, man!” Kaminari thrusts a glass of whiskey in Bakugou’s direction. “Let loose a little!”

The man in question merely lets out a ‘Tch’ before swatting the hero’s hand away.

“Don’t worry about him, bestie,” Mina calls out to you reassuringly, noticing you’ve been watching the two as you sipped on your own iced tea. “He just gets cranky when he’s not in bed by 9 PM sharp.”

“How ‘bout you, bro?” Kirishima asks you, this time a glass of gin and tonic in hand. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

You muster the most polite and grateful smile you can. “No thanks, Kirishima-san. I kind of have plans early tomorrow morning.”

Yeah, right, you think to yourself. You just don’t want to risk making a fool of yourself in front of your two bosses and their closest friends.

“Ooooh, is that why Bakugou isn’t drinking as well?” Mina chirps excitedly, “Are you guys doing something tomorrow?”

“Uh, no,” you say, hesitant and irrationally guilty, which swells when Mina’s face drops in palpable disappointment. You scramble to pull out a palatable lie from your ass, “I’m going out of town to meet a good old friend of mine who just got back from the States.”

A chorus of oohs and aahs erupt from the table at your answer; luckily, they don’t press for more details, which you’re grateful for, because you’re running out of lies for the evening.

You feel Bakugou eyeing you at the side, as if trying to figure out if what you just said is true when Sero suddenly speaks up, pointing to the far end of the restaurant.

“Hey, they have a photo booth! Whaddya say we give it a go?”

Everyone cheers in agreement and you find yourself getting ushered into the said photo booth. Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina plant themselves on the front while you get smushed between Bakugou and Sero at the back. You try not to let the close proximity with your boss get to you as Mina starts handing out the props, which you readily accept with a thanks. You look down at the ‘I’m awesome’ signage and rainbow-colored wig you’re holding, weighing your options, before ultimately deciding to make the sacrifice and give Bakugou the former. His crimson eyes trail to you when you tap his shoulder lightly, and down to the sign when you make the gesture of offering it towards him. He wordlessly takes it off your hands, and you can’t help but snort at how out of place he looks with it. He tosses you a glare, although it seems harmless enough.

“Ready?” Mina shouts, and the rest of you say your affirmation. You go through the motions, everyone changing up their poses and swapping props shot after shot, and you find yourself laughing along with the group as the ruckus unfolds around you. After the last click of the camera, you finally move to return the paraphernalia to the front with Bakugou shadowing you, and follow the rest as they hurriedly pile out of the small space when the sliding door suddenly slams shut.

“What the—” you reach for the indented groove and pull it open, but the door refuses to budge.

“Hey,” Bakugou’s booming voice ricochets within the small space, making you jump. “Quit fucking around, you guys.”

A chorus of laughter erupts from the outside, and only then does it dawn on you that you didn’t get locked in because of some stupid gust of wind.

Kaminari, who’s probably the one holding the door shut sounds positively evil when he pipes up with: “You’re not getting out of there until you do a round with just the two of you.”

“Yeah!” Mina adds excitedly. “And y’all better do those cute poses, you hear me? We’re not going home unless you do the classic kiss on the cheek!”

“Just the cheek?” Sero asks, “You should just go all out, Bakugou!”

“This is their idea, bros. I’m not involved here,” you hear Kirishima say in the background.

Oh motherfucking god.

Refusing to accept what’s happening, you try to pry the door open again, but Kaminari’s not letting up by the slightest. You stare at the door, unable to look at Bakugou and what feels like five minutes pass before the man finally speaks up.

“…Let’s just fucking do it.”

You turn around to gape at him, “E-excuse me?”

He sighs, looking as defeated as you’ve ever seen him, a tinge of pink tinting his cheeks in what you think is irritation. “They’re not gonna back down unless we fucking do what they say. Trust me,” he says as he plops down on one of the seats in front of the camera, “I know them.”

Hesitantly, you take the seat to his left, the feeling of resignation blooming in your stomach at his words. “O-okay, then. We can just quickly take the pictures like normal and we’ll be on our way.”

“No—” he starts, and he looks like it pains him to argue with you, “—if we don’t do this as they instructed, the shitheads are just going to make us do it again and again until we do.”

You flush at the implications of his words, “But—what—surely they’ll be reprimanded for hogging the photo booth?”

Bakugou shakes his head, seeming like he’s already surrendered his soul to the antics of his friends. “They don’t normally abuse their power as heroes, but they will for stupid shit like this.”

You can only blink at him, at a loss for words. If you think about it, it’s unnerving how calm and level-headed he’s being right now when you’re getting close to having a major freakout yourself.

“Well?” The man has the audacity to ask.

You shift awkwardly in your seat, choosing to look at the monitor in front of you instead of the pro-hero who you now realize is way too dangerously close for your comfort. “Okay, so the least number of shots we can go for is four.”

Bakugou grunts in what you think is approval.

You continue, “We can do one where we just sit and smile, another where we form a small heart with our hands to appease Mina, and—fuck, two more…”

You expected you’d be the one to do the agonizing task of directing your poses, so you’re surprised when Bakugou chimes in.

“That’s not enough for bug-eyes,” he says as a matter-of-factly, and you find yourself gulping in nervousness despite yourself. “We’ll have to get closer…”

Closer than this?

Bakugou seems like he’s debating something in his head before he gives you a firm nod. “The third one we can place your head on my fucking shoulder or something, and for the last—” he shakes his head in defeat, “just go and fucking kiss me on the cheek.”

“What?”

He shoots you an appalled look as if you jolting away from him at the mere suggestion is a criminal offense committed against him. “Don’t sound so fucking disgusted, idiot.”

You’re not about to tell him you’re the farthest from being disgusted and rather veering dangerously close to flustered. Instead, you croak: “Are you sure about this?”

Bakugou scoffs, “Does it look like we have a choice?” He pauses, before shaking his head rather adamantly, “It’s not like I want to do this…”

You frown, itching to argue that you, in fact, have a choice, but the man is so evidently resigned that any rebuttal dies down in your throat. He does know his friends better than you do. Obviously. You can’t accurately gauge how far they’re willing to go for you just to take these photos with the grump.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you mumble an ‘okay’ before standing to press the Start button.

And so you, once again, go through the motions.

Only this time you’re not laughing.

You can feel your smile straining as you pose for the first photo, and you’re guessing Bakugou is looking like he’s being forced to smile at gunpoint beside you.

Click.

At the tell-tale sound, you lift your left hand, forming half a heart, and bring it next to Bakugou’s right. Beside his, your hand is significantly smaller, and you’re staring at the shape you’ve formed together when the camera goes off again, catching you off guard.

Click.

You’re disoriented and barely registering the pace at which everything’s going when you feel a hand gently tug your head to the right, placing it firmly on top of a firm shoulder.

“Smile, you dumbass,” Bakugou says through gritted teeth. You obey.

Click.

You chance a glance at the man, whose eyes are downcast—staring at the floor. You hesitate, wary of the countdown, “…Can I?”

Bakugou merely closes his eyes in what you think is dreadful anticipation before opening them again, choosing to look straight into the camera instead of meeting your gaze. “Just do it.”

You’re not about to waste any more time and risk missing the timing and having to do this all over again, so you do.

It takes everything in you not to cringe the second your lips touch Bakugou’s cheek, suddenly becoming very aware of how chapped they are. But the thought is almost instantly replaced by the realization of how deceivingly soft his skin is, and you have to fight yourself from jerking away at the ridiculous observation.

The seconds go by so agonizingly slow, and as you wait for the shutter to go off, you notice how tense Bakugou is, whose eyes are now closed again. It occurs to you belatedly how weird it would come out in the photos if you had your eyes wide open this close to the guy, so you immediately slam them shut.

You do it just in time before you hear the all-too-familiar click, at the sound of which you promptly pull away and stand up.

“Great,” you chirp, too cheerily.

“Good,” he grunts at the same time as you.

You look at each other in surprise, and you can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of you. The corners of Bakugou’s mouth twitch ever so minutely, and you could’ve sworn a smile is fighting to take over his lips.

You’re about to say something remotely embarrassing—just anything to fill the air, really—like ‘thanks’ or worse, when the door suddenly opens, startling the both of you.

Mina pokes her head through the small opening, squealing as her eyes dart back and forth between the two of you. “Well, come on, you two! They turned out amazing!”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

It’s about half past 10 when you finally decide as a group that it’s time to wrap things up and go home. Of course, you had to first sit through roughly thirty minutes of Mina gushing on and on about how cute your photos turned out, with Kaminari and Sero at the side teasing Bakugou about how uncharacteristically shy he looks. As you expected, Bakugou turned almost as red as a beet at the teasing, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with the group before getting silenced with a sharp glare from the man.

Despite the plethora of dirty looks he’s tossed your way the entire evening, Bakugou still went out of his way to offer you a ride home as you walked with the group to the exit. You were about to politely decline when you realized everyone else was watching and that it would be weird for you to turn down your boyfriend’s proposal this late into the night.

And so you reluctantly accepted.

Which is how you find yourself waiting by the restaurant’s front door with Mina while Bakugou fetches his car. The other three guys already hit the dirt and carpooled home together, not one of them having bothered to drive here in the first place knowing they’d get drunk, or at the very least, tipsy.

The silence is comfortable as you breathe in the cool, evening breeze, while Mina sways side to side beside you.

“If you ask me, Bakugou didn’t drink tonight because he wanted to drive you home safely.”

You whip around to look at the pink-skinned hero, “Huh?”

Mina only shrugs in response, not bothering to repeat herself. Instead, she reaches for something in her purse, digs through it for a couple of seconds, before pulling out a strip of film that you instantly recognize is that of you and Bakugou from a while ago.

“Sorry, but I’m keeping the one of us as a group,” she sing-songs, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic, before thrusting the string of photos towards you. “But you get to keep the one of you and Bakugou.”

Not knowing what else to do, you gingerly accept it from the girl.

She grins at you, “Keep it safe for him, ‘kay?”

You refrain from telling her that he most definitely doesn’t care about whether or not you keep these photos safe, and instead give her an affirmative nod. Looking down at the object in your hands, you study the images one by one.

Your smile does look a bit strained in the first, and you’re not even smiling in the second, dumbly staring at the heart instead, but you’d say you appear decent enough in the third yet downright foolish in the last. It’s Bakugou that leaves you dumbfounded, though.

He’s not smiling in the first one—at least, not really—but he still managed to look handsome and exude a boyish charm that’s always been characteristic of him. To your surprise, he’s also not looking at the camera in the second; instead, his eyes are directed towards you, a solemn expression on his face. Against your will, you feel yourself warm at the thought of being the object of his attention without your knowledge. In stark contrast, he comes off stiff as hell in the third photo with your head on his shoulder, and in the last one…

His eyes are closed, eyebrows slightly furrowed. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his cheeks are tinged the lightest shade of pink.

Huh.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Mina pipes up out of nowhere, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You flush at her words. “Sorry?”

The girl merely smirks, a knowing expression etched across her beautiful features. “It’s written all over your face.”

Your free hand absentmindedly shoots up to feel your face, and it doesn’t elude you that you’re heating up.

To your relief, Mina doesn’t say anything else. She shrugs again, checking something on her phone before turning to face you once more, “Well, my Uber’s here! Tell Bakugou to drive safely and make sure you get home in one piece, okay, bestie?”

You smile at her concern and the adorable term of endearment she’s assigned to you, “I will.”

Mina seems to hesitate for a second before decidedly stepping closer and bringing you into a warm hug, which you return as best as you can.

You eventually pull away from each other after a moment, and she walks down the stairs and towards the dark maroon car that’s just arrived.

Leaving you with nothing but the space to mull over the ramifications of what has just been said.

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii @beab19 @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @k0z3me @meeeepsworld @asura-rose @dragonscribble @moonz33 @citrustsuki @deadhands69 @lemuhr @rosemarygalaxy @iluv-ace @eyesforbkg @carpe000diem @shushbruv @matchat3a @ttalgi @bakunianadecorazon

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 they really do make a difference! have a lovely day ( ˘ ³˘)♥

[dntaed]

﹅ CRIMSON RINGS◞ j. todd ✗ fem!reader | 3.4k wc.

SYNOPSIS: Your piercing eyes scan the crowd, searching across the mingling elite for a certain someone. Their dim glow reaches Jason even from the distance between you two—it turns luminous when you spot him. He almost chokes on his breath.

Or, you and Jason share a dance at a gala and it takes an intense turn.

A/N: author knows nothing ab galas!! do not judge me </3 this was an old request, my first ever explicit work and i wanted to post it on this new acc. !! reminder, i am a minor writing smut, read at your own discretion!!

TAGS: explicit smut, clothed sex, body worship, praise, p in v, oral sex, cunnilingus, come eating, afab!reader, vaginal fingering, riding, aftercare, established relationship.

MASTERLIST.

THE SILVER BEAMS OF MOONLIGHT POUR THROUGH THE GLASS WALL, COVERING THE ROOM WITH AN OTHERWORLDLY HUE. Cool and polished, the marble wall gleams under the light, its smooth surface marbles with veins of smoky silver and hints of gold. Tonight, Wayne Enterprises is holding its annual charity gala at Gotham Museum of Antiquities—complete with an elegant venue; eye-catching decor and displays; unending speeches and presentations along with slow, dramatic waltz and special VIP rooms.

Tonight, Jason leans on that polished marble wall—with his own polished black-tie suit. The ink-black velvet suit makes him blend in with the rest of the crowd. He’s done well with avoiding the rest of the mingling Gotham elite, choosing to hide away in some dark corner. Jason watches the ivory-colored champagne in his hand as he tilts the glass from one side to another—a game, if you will. A game to pass the time.

He looks down at the opulent watch on his wrist. It was a gift given to him by Dick. No matter how much Jason said no—or complained, by his brother's words—he didn’t want the ridiculously costly accessory. Though, Dick persisted—just as he did with Jason attending this gala.

Jason glared at the numbers on the watch’s dial. The Roman numeral IX stares back at him as if it’s mocking the man. Jason fidgets with the collar of his alabaster button up shirt—too tight around his neck. His foot restlessly taps against the shining surface of the floor beneath. Jason folds his arms across his chest as he retreats deeper into the corner.

Time couldn’t move slower, he thinks.

He hears a singsong voice call out to him as light steps echo closer—

“How long are you going to stand there like a statue?”

The raven hair and ocean-like blue eyes of Dick are unmistakably familiar, even the teasing and lighthearted tone of his voice is engraved in Jason’s mind. Dick takes his place next to his little brother, leaning against the tall marble wall. His smug grin danced across his face. Dick playfully nudges Jason, prompting an answer out of him.

“Until this tedious, faux gala—I mean, important social occasion—ends. I don’t know how you survive here.” Jason groans, head falling back against the cool surface of the wall.

Dick lets a soft chuckle escape, “Well,” he clicks his tongue, “—It helps when you have a pretty thing by your side.”

Jason picks up on the tone of Dick’s voice and the suggestion. He can’t help but roll his eyes at his brother’s oh-so creative idea. The thought lingers in his mind for a minute—you, in some fancy outfit, perfectly suited for you, thin fabric hugging your plush and petal soft skin in all the right places.

His hand tightens around the champagne glass. Dick laughs again, satisfied with Jason’s reaction.

“Just wait until you see it in front of your own eyes.” Dick makes sure to emphasize the final words as he motions Jason to look across the dance floor.

There you stand, on the edge of the dance floor. The golden filigree of the ivory floor glows beneath your feet. The crystal chandelier casts a shimmering light upon your dewy skin. The crimson-colored velvet fabric flows across your frame like waves in a calm sea. Your hair meticulously detailed and styled drifts down from your neck and lightly touches your bare shoulders. A rose-gold pendant rests in the dip of your chest.

Your piercing eyes scan the crowd, searching across the mingling elite for a certain someone. Their dim glow reaches Jason even from the distance between you two—it turns luminous when you spot him.

He almost chokes on his breath.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Dick smirks as he pats Jason on the shoulder. He moves before Jason can give him a nudge of his own and disappears into the crowd.

Your heels clink across the ivory floor as you approach him. Jason can swear he can feel and hear the champagne glass crack under his tightened grip. The drink is left forgotten as he leaves it on a nearby table. Jason meets up with you. Suddenly the suffocating air of the gala dissipates.

“Thought I’d find you moping in some far away corner.” You giggle softly.

“Well,”—Jason takes your hand in his—palm face down as he places a gentle kiss on top of it. His lips linger on you as he holds eye contact, the aqua hue of his eyes are like a siren’s call, beckoning you closer—“everything has changed since you’ve arrived.”

Jason’s warm touch lights a fire on your skin’s surface. You take a second to break out of your sweet reverie. “For the better, I hope?”

“Of course it’s for the better. Without you this entire ordeal would be rather boring.” He muses.

“You think all galas hosted by your father are boring, but with enough persuasion, you always show up.”

“Enough persuasion, huh?”, he laughs, “you think I’m so easily persuaded?”

You gather the courage to step even closer to him. The slight bob of his Adam's apple gives you all the confidence you need.

Your eyes dart across his frame. The ink-black suit sits on his body like it was made for him specifically. The heat spreads throughout, settling deep into the crooks of your body. Does he even know how he looks right now? A sculpted statue of a Greek god, made meticulously by a renowned artist, stands in front of you.

You can’t seem to tear your eyes off him, your mind too busy and occupied with wondering what other details of the statue hide behind the black velvet fabric. Jason notices this too, proved by the flustered cough that leaves him and the slight pink tint on his cheeks.

You gaze into his eyes again, “Aren’t I proof of that? A few sweet words from me and you’re at my beck and call.”

Jason chuckles, “You’re the only one. Count yourself lucky, you minx.”

A sly grin dances across your face, “Oh, I am very fortunate. Though, I’d like to test your weakness for me one more time.”

“What do you have planned?” He lets out a faux groan, eyes following your lips every move.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

You stammer, the confidence you felt a few moments ago slowly leaving your body, “It’s a gala, right? I’m your partner and I thought we could dance? Only if you’d like of course! It’s not mandatory to dance, I just-”

Jason takes your hands in his own, “—I want to.”

“To dance? With me?”

“Who else?” He laughs, the sound akin to honey. You want to taste his sweet oh-so desperately on your tongue.

“Okay.” You lead him to the dance floor with a smile dancing on your lips.

The ivory floor contrasts with the colors of your clothing. The lights across the room dance on you both, bathing in the warm, golden hue of the glow. Jason’s eyes shine like aquamarine crystals under the sunlight on a coast near the sea, touched gently by the sea foam. The two of you move and sweep through the crowd on the dance floor akin to the soft, rhythmic ebb of a river. It’s not precise, nor perfect. It reminds you of the cracks between broken pieces dipped and stitched back together with gold.

Your hand in Jason’s feels incredibly right, as if it was always meant to rest in the safety of his touch. Your cheeks graze as you attempt to hide yourself in the crook of his neck. A single whisper breaks you out of your trance.

“Don’t hide yourself, please. I want to see you—all of you.”

The words escape from the tip of your tongue, “you can, if you’d have me.”

Your suggestion rings in Jason’s ears. The surprise on his face is proven by the widening of his eyes and the slight part of his lips. His grip on your hands slightly strengthens, careful not to hurt you.

“Fuck.” He groans, the sound going straight to your core. The music slowly ends as he starts leading you towards an empty hallway. “I think they have rooms for the VIP’s here.”

There’s excitement in your every step. The more you walk, the more impatience eats at you.

“Jay-” You whine out, “Please-”

“Shh,” He smiles, “patience, and maybe you’ll be rewarded.”

Jason spots an unoccupied room near the two of you. In a few seconds he has you ushered into the privacy of its walls.

Now it’s just the two of you. The air feels hot and intoxicating. It doesn’t take long for the both of your lips to meet. The feel of his lips against yours is so familiar it strikes an aching feeling deep in your heart. Your cherry lipstick gets smeared more and more with every move of your lips. You finally let go of the strings of worry pulling at you and melt into his hold.

His hands travel from your hips to your waist and lay flat against your spine, bringing you closer as if the two of you will embrace each other as one. Every touch lights a fire on your skin. You suck on his bottom lip as your hands move from his face to the back of his neck, luring him closer as his tongue explores every corner of your mouth.

You whimper against Jason’s mouth. The wet kiss finally breaks. He sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes pierce into your own. The look of them makes you quiver in his hold.

Jason’s fingers graze your swollen lips, parting them. Your tongue reaches out on instinct, searching for his skin—his taste. He chuckles followed by a quiet hiss.

“Needy thing.” He moves closer, making you take a few steps back before reaching the bed. “Did you plan this?” He softly lowers you on the bed, hands trailing down to your hips, teasing the slit slightly in the fabric hugging your plum skin.

You shamelessly drag your hands down his chest, clawing to reach his skin underneath the layers of clothes. “Please, Jay-” Your body aches for him, every part of you calls out to him, yearning for his touch, his kiss, his—

“Did you think about this?” He asks, his voice low as he reaches down to whisper in your ear, his lips teasingly close to you. “I know I did.” You can see his flushed skin and slightly tangled hair. He looks so beautiful, intoxicatingly so.

You let out a whine as he kisses the skin connecting your jaw and neck. He nibbles down on the skin, pleasure and the slight bite of pain mixing into each other oh-so well. It lights embers in your body as in his. He takes in the captivating smell of your lingering perfume, making him wish he could drown in it.

His tongue on your neck trails down to your chest, leaving blossoming marks in its wake. They feel electrifying, sending bolts of lighting down your body, straight into your core. Your thighs press together, searching for friction.

He chuckles, looking up at you, “Shh—” He hikes the fabric above your waist, “—let me take care of you.”

Jason sinks to his knees. His lips dance across your thighs, leaving wet kisses in its wake. Your hips shake, body too sensitive from previous touches. Your hand covers your mouth to muffle the whimpers escaping from it. His hand reaches up to yours, ripping it from your mouth.

“I want to hear you—every sound. Just lose control, love. You look angelic like this—under me, spread and so giving, ruffled hair and needy whines—such a pretty mess.” He purrs.

“Jay—” You shudder when his lips graze across your clothed pussy, “—Oh my god.”

Jason chuckles against you, the sound vibrating from your pussy to the rest of your body. He hooks the fabric of your soaked panties on his finger, moving them aside. You bite back a moan at the cool air touching you. Tears well up in your eyes, ruining your mascara.

“Look at you, dripping from me. Did I make you wait for it, baby? Let me make it up to you, yea?”

“Yes, yes, please, Jay—!” The moan hitches in your throat as Jason's lips kiss your folds, his tongue teasing the entrance. “Feels good, Jay…”

He pushes your thighs above, placing them on his shoulders. His hands grip around your hips, trapping them in place. You arch your back as his tongue delves in your cunt. Your breath quivers as he sucks down on your clit. His tongue flicks along it, sending bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“Fuck, right there— don’t stop!”

Jason’s digits rise and part your folds as he inserts one inside you. The moans bounce across the room as he works you towards your climax, as if you’re an instrument that he knows every string of, which one to pull, graze, shake, and grip.

The pleasure builds up, spreading slowly throughout your body. Your climax hangs as if it’s a thin thread about to snap. You shake and cry out for Jason—the one currently working you up to the oh-so satisfying cut of that string.

Your noises feel him with a confidence he doesn’t feel anywhere else. It’s enthralling—the fact he can make you feel so good. He’ll carry you to your climax because that’s what his darling deserves for giving him such a good present—dressing up for him, being so giving—his sweet darling.

The shaking of your thighs grows more intense, just like the moans escaping your mouth. He adds another digit, curling deep inside your cunt. His touch reaches you just in the right places, making you feel dizzy from it all.

“‘m close, baby,” you whine, “god, yes.”

The thread tithers on the edge. Every curl of his fingers and flick of his tongue pushes you closer to that very edge. Your breath gets caught in your mouth, only a strangled moan leaving when your climax hits. You can feel his satisfied grin on your pussy lips. Your chest rises with every bolt of pleasure. His tongue doesn’t let it go. He laps up your cum leaking from your cunt, savoring the taste.

Jason’s fingers delicately dance across your folds, cum collecting on them. He raises his hand for you to see. The moonlight reflects off of the shiny white liquid on the tips of his fingers. Your walls clench at the sight, eyes widening and head falling back against the bed. He laughs again.

“C’mon, be good—clean them.”

He rises from his position climbing on top of you again. His head tilts as his hand moves closer to you. You shudder as the smell of your own climax reaches you. You open your mouth, tongue searching for a taste. He settles the fingers in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his digits. The striking taste of your slick and cum spreads your mouth. His eyes never break contact with yours, the stare is too intense. You squirm against his body.

Jason’s breath gets caught in his throat. “Fuck—god—pretty girl, good job, just like that.”

His praise makes your hips buck into his own. You want to pleasure him too. The bulge in his pants proves his arousal and need. Your hand slowly trails down his clothed body, searching for any sign of refusal. When he gives you a shaky nod with a crooked smile, you take that as approval.

You take this chance to switch positions. Lowering him down onto the bed you move to straddle his hips. The fabric of his pants grazes your bare pussy, the sensitivity making you shake. Your hands move to his bulge again, palming him over his clothes. He sighs with pleasure, hands clutching the sheets underneath him.

You coo at his reaction, “My pretty boy.”

He whines, the sound coming out as a quiet plea. His hands leave the sheets and grip your hips—surely leaving bruises decorating your flush body. Jason’s hair’s akin to a halo, the moonlight seeping through the window faintly covers him in a faint glow, making him look heavenly. The sight makes you groan.

“Let me take care of you now.”

Your hands move to unzip his pants and free his clothed cock. The flushed red tip leaks of precum.

Jason rasps, “darling, touch me, please.”

“Shh, don’t worry—” You lean down to press a chaste kiss on his forehead, “—I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

You raise your hips as you settle your hands on his chest, hands digging into his disheveled clothes. The tip of his cock kisses your cunt as you align yourself. You sink down onto him, his entire length slowly disappearing into your warmth. Your velvety walls hug his cock.

He shudders with pleasure, “—Fuck, baby- tryna milk me dry.”

You try to settle onto a rhythm. His hands—still on your hips—help you along with the pace, pulling them down onto his cock. The sounds of moans and skin slapping against skin spread throughout the room, bouncing across wall to wall. His hands reach up to your chest, grazing your nipples. Jason chuckles as your eyes widen and thighs shake with every touch.

Both of your moans mix into each other—the sound downright shameless but akin to ambrosia. The similar thread coils for Jason. His breaths become shaky, as your rhythm changes and pace becomes messy. Jason’s hands trail down from your chest to your hips, hanging on.

“Don’t stop, baby- please.”

He bites down onto his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to muffle his sounds. The coil threatens to unfold any second. Jason’s back arches with every desperate thrust, his hips coming to meet you in the middle, chasing that high. His climax reaches closer and closer.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask with a shaky voice.

He barely makes out your words in his hazy mind, “Of course, god-”

Both of your lips crash together as Jason’s climax hits him. He whines into your mouth, hands flying up to grip any piece of you he can—waist, spine, neck—he settles on cradling your face. Breaking from the kiss, his red and flushed lips tremble from ecstasy.

“How are you feeling?” You mumble into the crook of his neck, snuggling closer.

Jason wraps his arms around your frame, hiding his face in your hair, taking in your smell. “I’m feeling amazing- Christ.”

You giggle in response. Moving from his neck you place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you—like I’m crazy in love.”

“I love you too, baby.”

You settle against his chest. Your eyes scan the room, taking notice of the messy sheets and the smell of sex spreading throughout the entire place. You suddenly remember the promise you made to his family about making him step out of his shell when it comes to these galas. Plan successfully failed?

The two of you slowly shuffle off the bed. Adjusting your clothing is fairly easy, the hair is more of a problem. Your make-up is a mess, too.

You tut, “Jay…”

“I think you look beautiful.” He moves closer to place a chaste kiss on your lips, his tongue slipping out to taste the smeared cherry lipstick.

“Crap, are we just going to leave the room and return to the gala like this?”

Jason lets out a laugh, seeing him lighthearted and content like this spreads a warmth in your heart.

“Well, I’m sure you’re a sight for the eyes, but I don’t want to share. We’re sneaking out.”

“I miss home. I don’t like these galas.” you whine.

“Me too. But I did like this one.” He smirks as his hands smooth out the back of your dress.

You snort, “Good. Maybe next time you’ll get lucky again.” You button his suit.

“I’ll hold you to that.” His hands try to settle your hair in a more presentable state. “We’ll get there and I’ll set up a warm bath for the two of us. After that we can finally rest.”

“I love you. I wanted to say that again.”

Jason smiles, eyes moving across your face, “—Me too, darling.”

© dntaed | all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are not allowed to be reposted, translated, or modified.

[pearlprincess02]

dating & dates (libra version)

libra: (libra venus/mars/5th house/7th house)

when dating someone with libra venus, libra mars, libra in the 5th house, and libra in the 7th house, expect romance, charm, and an appreciation for beauty in all forms. they are natural romantics who value balance, harmony, and intellectual connection in relationships. they want a partner who is both emotionally engaging and socially graceful, someone who can match their love for aesthetics, deep conversations, and shared experiences. they thrive in relationships that feel equal and fair, avoiding unnecessary conflict while seeking a deep, yet easygoing connection. libra venus desires a love story that feels elegant and poetic. they are drawn to aesthetically pleasing dates, thoughtful gestures, and a partner who treats them with grace and consideration. libra mars is flirtatious and playful, preferring charm and seduction over aggressive pursuit. they enjoy the thrill of mutual attraction, often taking their time to build desire and anticipation. libra 5th house finds joy in social, artistic, and aesthetically appealing activities. they enjoy being around beauty, whether through fashion, art, music, or cultural experiences, and want to share these passions with their partner. libra 7th house seeks a well-balanced, committed relationship with someone who complements them. they are drawn to strong partnerships where both people contribute equally, creating a seamless and loving dynamic.

date night ideas

shopping for each other and picking outfits to wear on a date (libra venus, libra mars) wine tasting at an elegant vineyard, visiting an art gallery/museum together, attending a live jazz/classical music performance, attending a fashion show/stylish event, romantic poetry reading/literature night, couples’ photoshoot in a picturesque location, watching an old romantic film at a vintage-style cinema, going to a luxury perfume/candle-making workshop (libra venus, libra 5th house) romantic rooftop dinner with a city skyline view, picnic in a beautiful botanical garden, going on a scenic boat ride/gondola date, high-end spa day for two, going to a masquerade ball/black-tie event, cooking a gourmet meal together while sipping wine, taking a scenic train ride to a charming destination (libra venus, libra 7th house) couples’ dance class (ballroom, salsa, or waltz), dressing up for a themed costume party, trying an interactive art experience (paint & sip, pottery, etc.), exploring a trendy city district with stylish cafés & boutiques (libra mars, libra 5th house)

over 18+ spicy bonus 🔞

libra: (libra mars/cupido/eros/lust/amor)

someone with libra mars, libra cupido, libra eros, libra lust, and libra amor approaches intimacy with charm, finesse, and an innate desire for balance between passion and beauty. they prioritize pleasure that is both visually and emotionally stimulating, creating an experience that feels luxurious and perfectly orchestrated. aesthetics, ambiance, and mutual satisfaction are key—they enjoy seduction that is slow, playful, and deeply sensual. their style is flirtatious, refined, and romantic, favoring a give-and-take dynamic where both partners feel equally desired and appreciated. libra mars prefers intimacy to be graceful and pleasurable, avoiding anything overly aggressive or messy. they thrive on flirtation, foreplay, and an effortless flow of passion. libra cupido is all about seduction and charm, turning intimacy into an art of attraction. they enjoy the chase, playful teasing, and building an electric connection before fully indulging. libra eros seeks an experience that is as visually stunning as it is physically satisfying. they love elegance, symmetry, and partners who put effort into their appearance and technique. libra lust is drawn to indulgence and sensory pleasure, favoring luxurious settings, slow-burn arousal, and a strong emotional or intellectual connection before fully letting go. libra amor craves intimacy that feels meaningful and harmonious. they want to be adored and to adore in return, ensuring that every touch and moment is balanced with affection and connection.

kinks you might have

sensual teasing & prolonged foreplay, power play with an emphasis on balance (taking turns leading & following), romantic domination (being in control but with grace & seduction), soft restraints (silk ties, handcuffs, gentle bondage), seductive dirty talk & whispering desires, light bondage with a stylish & sensual approach (libra mars, libra cupido, libra lust) mirror play, oral fixation (giving and receiving with precision & passion), dancing as foreplay (sensual movement, slow grinding, striptease) (libra mars, libra eros, libra lust) aesthetic-focused encounters (lingerie, candlelight, setting the perfect mood), slow, intimate, & rhythmically paced passion, erotic massage & full-body touch, mutual pleasure focus (ensuring both partners feel equally satisfied) (libra mars, libra eros, libra amor) lingerie & wardrobe play (dressing up for seduction), roleplay with elegant scenarios (royalty, power dynamics, fantasy themes) (libra cupido, libra eros, libra lust) intense eye contact & seductive stares, being worshiped/worshiping partner’s body, erotic poetry/love letters exchanged before intimacy, having perfectly curated background music & ambiance (libra cupido, libra eros, libra amor) luxury hotel/extravagant setting for indulgent intimacy (libra eros, libra lust, libra amor)

all observations are done by me !!! @pearlprincess02

main masterlist

[premiumbitch]

۶ৎ SHE'S A LANA DEL REY SONG REINCARNATED: MANIFESTATION PACK ˙⋆.˚

This is for the lovely people who want to manifest stuff about themselves or script this in their shifting script! this pack is a lana del rey theme ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ enjoy!

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐺𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒪𝒻 𝐺𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒢𝑜𝓁𝒹

You are a vision from a dream half-remembered—a girl wrapped in ribbons and sorrow, a beauty so devastating it lingers like perfume on a lover’s skin. The world has tried to capture you, to understand you, but you slip through its fingers like sand kissed by the tide. They call you Venus reborn, a celestial being dressed in tragedy and lace.

𝐂𝐨𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞’𝐬 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒦𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓈

You do not chase—you stand still and let them come to you, caught in your gravity, unable to resist. A tilt of your head, a slow blink, the barest touch of your fingers, and they are undone. Your beauty is dangerous, a blade wrapped in tulle, soft enough to lure them in and sharp enough to make them bleed. There is something about you that makes men forget their names, makes them stutter over their words, makes them believe in goddesses again.

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬? ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒪𝒻 𝐼𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉

Your mind is a labyrinth of brilliance, a place where poetry and logic dance together in an eternal waltz. You see what others miss, connect dots they never knew existed. Intelligence is not just knowledge but an instinct, a sixth sense you wield effortlessly. They look at you in awe, stunned by your wit, your elegance, your ability to make even the most complex ideas sound like a love song.

𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝒮𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓃

You drift through the world like a song half-remembered, haunting yet beautiful, leaving echoes in the hearts of those who dare to meet your gaze. There’s something cinematic about you—the way the light catches in your eyes, the way your presence lingers like cigarette smoke in the air of an old jazz club. You are nostalgia personified, a fleeting memory wrapped in velvet, a siren’s hymn calling lost souls home.

𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝐸𝓃𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈

Your presence is an intoxicating blend of melancholy and bliss—like an old Hollywood film playing in slow motion, a neon-lit reverie on the edge of reality. The world bends around you, colors seem richer, music sounds sweeter. There’s an elegance in the way you move, a rhythm to your existence that others unconsciously fall in step with. You don’t just walk—you glide, you drift, you entrance.

𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝑒𝓂𝓂𝑒 𝐹𝒶𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒

Your beauty is both a lullaby and a warning, a whisper against the wind that lingers long after you’ve left the room. You are the embodiment of an old love letter, stained with the scent of roses and tears, folded and unfolded until the edges fray. People don’t just admire you—they ache for you, as one aches for something they can never quite hold onto. You are a once-in-a-lifetime sight, a dream drenched in lace and longing.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒟𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓊𝓂

You exist like a hazy memory of a summer night, drenched in gold and dripping with poetry. Your aura is electric, intoxicating, a fever dream of flashing carnival lights and whispered secrets. There’s something untouchable about you, something that makes others wish they could hold you in the palm of their hands, but knowing you would slip through their fingers like silk. You are not just seen—you are felt, a sensation that lingers long after the moment has passed.

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓎

People swear they’ve seen you before, in a dream, in a song, in the reflection of a rain-soaked city street. You are a mystery wrapped in silk, a secret the universe whispers only to those who dare to listen. Your beauty is not just physical—it is the way you make others feel, a quiet thrill, a delicate ache, a story that never quite finishes. You are the last note of a ballad, the lingering taste of honey and heartbreak, the kind of enchantment that refuses to fade.

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝑀𝓊𝓈𝑒

You are the kind of beauty that belongs to another era, something ancient yet timeless, like a forgotten melody rediscovered in the quiet of the night. Your presence is an unspoken poem, the type that lingers on the tip of the tongue but never fully leaves the lips. There is an inexplicable softness about you, an effortless elegance that makes others want to immortalize you in art, in music, in whispered confessions under dimly lit streetlights. You are the last sip of wine at a candlelit table, the silver thread that connects dreams to reality, a vision too delicate for this world.

𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝓇𝒾𝒷𝑒

Your mind is a labyrinth of brilliance, a place where art, philosophy, and poetry intertwine in ways that others could only dream of. Your words are injected with meaning, dripping in the kind of wisdom that feels both intuitive and celestial. There is something intoxicating about the way you think—your thoughts dance like flickering candlelight, illuminating even the darkest corners of the human soul. People don’t just listen when you speak—they become entranced, as if every syllable is spun from a spider's finest silk and fire. You are a philosopher in disguise, a poet without a pen, a walking enigma wrapped in lace and intellect.

𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓃

You move through life like a hypnotic refrain, a melody that repeats in the minds of those who cross your path. Your beauty is not just seen—it is felt, an unshakable sensation that burrows deep into the hearts of others. There is something dreamlike in the way you exist, as if you are both here and not, a celestial body drifting between worlds. People look at you and feel something they cannot name—a deep longing, a quiet ache, the feeling of standing on the shore and watching the tide pull away, knowing they will never be able to hold onto you, but desperate to try.

𝐋𝐮𝐱𝐞 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝐹𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓎

There is a rhythm to you, an unspoken music in the way you carry yourself. You are small pink bows and shadow, honey and venom, a contradiction so seamlessly woven that others cannot help but be drawn in. Your presence lingers like a perfume worn by a past lover—familiar, intoxicating, impossible to forget. You can turn desire on and off like a dimmer switch, leaving those around you unsure of whether they want to worship you or run from you. But no one ever truly escapes—you exist in the back of their minds, a haunting daydream, a wish they were never brave enough to make.

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒪𝓇𝒷𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎

You are the type of person people tell stories about—the mysterious figure in the background of a faded photograph, the stranger in a coffee shop who left an unshakable impression. You are a name scribbled in the margins of a notebook, a ghost lingering in the lines of a love song. Even those who barely know you feel as though they’ve encountered something celestial, something just beyond reach. You do not just live—you echo, reverberating in the hearts and minds of those fortunate enough to have known you, if only for a moment.

𝐂𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝐼𝓁𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃

You are the embodiment of something unattainable—like a song played on an old vinyl record, crackling with nostalgia, forever suspended between the past and the present. You carry the essence of late-night drives down empty highways, of whispered confessions between lovers who know their time is fleeting. People fall into you like a fever dream, unsure of whether they are awake or still trapped in some intoxicating illusion. You are the question that lingers long after the conversation has ended, the unfinished sentence, the untold secret. You are both the fantasy and the ache of knowing it will never be reality.

[hai7ani]

to win is to lose / rivals to lovers (who were already in love since the beginning)

thinking 'bout how attending an ex boyfriend's wedding while also having to endure the stares thrown your way from the guy you've been sworn enemies and rivals with for god knows how long halfway across the room must really suck. like, both sides really rubbing it in your face, you think 一 that you've lost this time. you're not as capable of love as you think you are, as you'd once boasted to that douchebag of a rival and how you'd thought your ex was the one for you.

except he isn't, and he isn't as well 一 the stares were just him making sure you weren't breaking down in the middle of a wedding and shutting off as you stand and watch with a semi-broken heart as your ex kisses his new bride at the altar, and a bouquet of flowers you've just caught earlier gripped tightly in your hands. a harsh slap to the face, this is.

so when he catches you at the hallway during the after party all alone, really at your most vulnerable as you quietly wipe away your tears with wobbly lips while making sure your makeup isn't ruined in the process, he waltzes over with his hands tucked into his pockets, stands in front of you a little too close for your usual liking, and you cry even harder. you don't have the energy to make another snarky remark to him 一 in fact, you haven't spoken a word to him since seeing him in his million dollar suit when he'd entered the venue without his rumoured plus one, no gifts for the newly-wed (a clear sign telling them to go to hell), and without his usual smug face too, for some reason.

when your tissue decides it isn't able to catch all your tears in time he then presses a hand to your nape forward. his touch is warm, so gentle, and your forehead rests on his right shoulder softly. you don't bother moving and he keeps you there like that, until your sobs have turned into sniffles and you've got an arm wrapped around his waist for some support.

it's when you wrap the other arm around him that he only speaks.

"i'll marry you."

you hear laughter echo in the quiet hallway as the other guests have the time of their lives in the room just behind the wall you're leaning against. is this a mockery? is he fucking mocking me? you've just about had it up to here with him. you want to scream at this man. you want to hit him. you want to punch him.

but your dress is tight so you hook an offensive thumb into the belt loop of his expensive dress pants instead, getting ready to threaten him, until he speaks again.

"so what they're doing this in the plaza hotel?" he scoffs, and your hold on his belt loop significantly loosens. his own around your nape, however, tightens and he presses your body anymore closer to him. you can feel his heartbeat pound in his chest, against your own, as he rambles on and on like the boastful boy you'd met in grade school despite being the ceo of a million dollar company.

"i'll marry you at the beach. new fucking york can kiss my ass, we're going to mykonos." you stifle a laugh at that. "he won't even be fucking invited because he's not ruining it for you, and he's gonna have to hear about our wedding from his mother-in-law."

you're full on giggling at him now as he continues to list out all the things he's gonna be making sure your ex pays for for the evil shit he'd pulled tonight.

"so? what do you say?"

he asks after a pause. when he tilts his head down to look at you he finds out you're already staring at him. wide, glossy eyes gazes into his own and he softens up when you hug him even tighter.

a hand brushes your hair out of the way. you close your eyes and smile. he swipes a thumb on the apple of your cheek.

"we can't lose to them now, can we?"

#gojo satoru he's so annoying, miya atsumu, haitani ran, haitani rindou, baji keisuke, kuroo tetsuro, hanma shuuji

it's 8am. haven't slept a wink. im so annoying

[pierppasolini]

Cowboy Bebop - Session #8: Waltz for Venus

[studioeisa]

omg "what? me? jealous? never." with junhui please! 🫶🫶

ⵌ actor!jun x actress!reader. ⵌ word count: 988 ⵌ notes: co-stars, secret relationship, pet names ('pretty girl'), suggestive joke, all my favorite tropes in a drabble. i miss this man sooo bad.

Jun loves award shows.

He loves having an excuse to dress up, loves getting to interact with other groups a little more openly, loves the special stages they get to put on. And if his gorgeous girlfriend happens to be a special emcee, well— that only makes it a much better night.

He's not allowed to be too excited, of course. He's always careful not to blow his cover. At most, the boys just seem to assume that you're his favorite co-star.

If only they knew that Jun's had the privilege of your heart for the past couple of years.

There's a bit of a thrill in sneaking around, in having to pull out his acting chops. Tonight, Jun lies about having to go to the bathroom, fields Minghao's invites for accompaniment, and navigates through all the other tables. Your text had been the only prompting he needed. It's like a waltz; his eyes on your back, the distance he keeps.

You side step in to a corner, behind a curtain, and he follows. The entire venue of idols, of actors, of Korea's biggest stars are none the wiser.

Jun's hands find immediate purchase at your waist. "Hey, pretty girl," he greets smoothly, that bright smile of his already lighting up his face.

You'll probably only have three minutes, but three minutes is all that Jun needs. He doesn't waste time. "Saw you on the red carpet earlier. You were stunning," he hums, his face going to nuzzle the underside of your ear.

"I think you're a little bit biased," you shoot back, unable to resist a jab. Your facade of annoyance is betrayed by the smile that's threatening to fill your own face. "But I think I can let it pass for tonight, 'specially since that suits of yours looks so good on you."

"I'd look even better out of it," he says unrepentantly. His arms tighten around your waist, holding you close when you try to pull back and away.

You let out a groan. Jun laughs softly.

Jun's lips brush against your jaw, then down the line of your throat. His nose skims your skin as he takes a breath. "You smell nice," he mumbles.

Cinnamon, sugar, vanilla. The same scent as his own cologne.

"You got me this at your Japan stop," you answer, your hands resting at his hips. It's not much, but it'll have to do for now.

"I should get you a perfume every time we have a stop abroad," he says.

"Yah, don't do that. You have expensive tastes. And you already get me too many things whenever you're on tour."

"What's the point of being an established artist at my big age if I can't spoil my pretty girl a little?" he grumbles petulantly. He tilts his head to press a kiss over your pulse. "Besides," he adds after a moment, "I like that you smell like me."

Smelling like Jun was just another one of those things. His subtle reminders in the form of innocuous couple items that only the two of you knew about. Cologne and perfume with similar notes, matching silk pajamas, rubber shoes from the same line. A quiet litany of mine, mine, mine in your every day lives.

You give a bright, warm laugh as you mumble into his hair, "I'll wear it more often, then."

You are so bad for him. A walking, talking dopamine rush. Everything about you makes Jun feel a little lightheaded, a little dizzy. Like he's had one too many to drink.

But you're also the one who sobers him up, the one who always says, "We should probably get going."

"Do we have to?" he whines. His arms around you tighten. He knows the answer to his question— yes, yes, you have to go. But he can't help wishing otherwise. "Five more minutes?"

Your nth sigh of the night. Even then— "Five more minutes," you concede.

His hands flatten out against your back, holding you more snugly against him. He could stay like this forever. Just your warmth against him, the scent of you in his nose, the sound of your steady breaths in his ear.

But you say five more minutes. And so he counts down from ten in his head. Ten, nine, eight…

Jun pulls back after the countdown and steals a long, deep kiss from your lips.

This was what it felt like to be alive. The way his blood pumped faster, his heart thumped harder. The way that your very presence made everything else seem dull in comparison.

The feeling only intensifies when you move closer. When you arch against him in that way you know he loves. When your fingers run through his hair.

Jun is all but breathless. He pulls away after long enough, leaning his forehead against yours. "I'm a terrible influence on you," he pants against your lips.

Your hand slides down to his face, your thumb ghosting over his mouth. "You got some on you," you grumble, and it takes him a moment to realize that you're fretting over lip gloss.

"Leave it," he says. "I like smelling like perfume and looking like I got kissed."

You shoot him a glare. He gives you cheeky grin.

When the two of you part, Jun is relegated to watch you from his table. You're radiant up on stage, perfectly composed and charming. You have stellar manufactured chemistry with your more recent co-star, and some of the boys decide to tease Jun about it.

"Looks like you've gotten replaced, Junpi," Jeonghan sing-songs.

Soonyoung nudges Jun in the side. "Jealous that you've lost your favorite co-star to Kim Soohyun?"

Jun barely stops himself from bursting into laughter. Replaced? Co-star? His members don't know the half of it. Jun absentmindedly runs a thumb over his bottom lip, where traces of you still linger.

"What? Me, jealous?" He breaks out into an innocent smile. "Never."

୨ৎ * GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

[p1nkprincess444]

Hannibal with his FBI agent s/o on their weddibg night (she knows about him)

I took a bit of my own spin on this request, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

ɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ - ʜᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟ ʟᴇᴄᴛᴇʀ

female fbi agent!reader x hannibal lecter

word count: 1,695

contents: 18+, marriage, very small mentions of murder, small angst

Your hands were shaking as you picked up the drawings in front of you. They were detailed intricate drawings of murder victims from cases you had been on, but they were never shown to the public in such a way. The only people who would have seen the victims in this way were fellow FBI agents and the killer… But how could Hannibal have known? You thought maybe you left a file out in the open and he had wandered upon it. Before you could think of anything else two large hands clasped over your shoulders. 

The day was perfect, there was a nice breeze blowing through the air as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. You with your close friend Beverly who was helping you into your floor length white gown. Your dress clung to your figure beautifully and was detailed with small gems and pearls sewn into the fabric. Hannibal had instructed you to get the gown that you loved the most, and now you were wearing it and you were sure Hannibal would love it. Your mind wandered to your soon to be husband as Beverly cinched your corset up before tying the ribbon in a beautiful bow. You hugged each other tightly before fixing small details on one another's hair and dresses. 

Hannibal was in the room opposite of yours with his one and only groomsman, Will Graham. Hannibal didn’t keep many friends but when you suggested Will Graham to be his groomsman he wouldn’t have it any other way. They were wearing identical suits except for their different colored ties. Hannibal had a matching pocket square tucked neatly in his left coat pocket. Hannibal was never a nervous man but now he had found himself with the smallest of wedding day jitters. 

There was a soft knock on your door before Will’s head popped in, “ Uhm- we’re ready. ”

“ Doesn’t she look beautiful, Will, ” Beverly's hands were straightening out your veil when she asked Will the question. 

“ Yeah- you look beautiful y/n. ” Will popped back out of the room before he joined Hannibal at the front of the aisle once more. 

The music began to play, making everyone stand before they turned to face the end of the aisle. First to come out was Beverly who wore a beautiful gown with her hair pinned up as she held a small bouquet that matched yours. Everyone's eyes locked on you as you made your way down the aisle. A bright smile was plastered across your face as your eyes locked onto your soon to be husband’s. Hannibal had a gentle smile on his lips as you stood in front of him. It was all so perfect, the weather was perfect, you were perfect. 

The ceremony came to a close with a final kiss before you both made your way down the aisle hand in hand. You parted only for a moment so that you could change into your reception dress, but when you came back out you both were inseparable once more. 

You joined Hannibal for your first dance together, his hands rested on the small of your back as the other held onto your hand. Hannibal waltzed with a certain elegance and no matter how many times you practiced with him you could not match his grace, but he enjoyed holding you close to him nonetheless. He spun you away from him unexpectedly making you laugh before he pulled you back against him. When the music came to an end you both pulled away before all of the women who attended the wedding joined in the center of the room for the bouquet toss. 

As you threw the bouquet back women dove to catch the small bundle of flowers but in the end miraculously Beverly caught it, holding up the flowers like a trophy as she smiled. 

Once everyone had been seated at their tables Hannibal joined you at the front of the venue to cut the cake. Hannibal scooped frosting onto the tip of his index finger before smearing it onto your nose. A smile graced your lips before you did the same. The night went on perfectly as you danced with friends and family before running off with your now husband back to your home. 

Hannibal could hardly keep his hands off you as soon as you took off your dress revealing a newly purchased lingerie set underneath. His hands were clasped onto your hips as he stood in only his button up shirt and boxers, but before you could get either off Hannibal was tossing you onto the bed and planting kisses all the way down your skin until he reached your panties. Hannibal pressed a gentle kiss to your clothed clit through your panties before his fingers hooked under the lacy fabric and pulled them down your thighs. He wasted no time before his head was buried between your thighs, his mouth sucking and lapping at your clit. You writhed under Hannibal as his movements were precise and calculated, he knew every inch of your body and he knew exactly how to exploit it as well. His fingers joined in on the assault of his mouth making your back arch as his fingers pushed deep inside you. His movements were fast but precise as his fingers curled over and over abusing that sweet spot deep inside your cunt. 

“ Mm’ gonna-, ” before I could even finish my sentence I was cumming all over Hannibal’s lips and fingers. 

A grin plastered across Hannibal’s face as he sat up on his heels, he brought his fingers to his mouth sucking your cum from them before he leaned down placing a kiss to your lips. Hannibal’s movements were quick as he pulled off his boxers before pulling you into his lap. His fingers dug into the flesh on your hips before he lowered you down onto his cock. He guided you up and down on his cock while pressing soft kisses to your lips. 

“ You’re so beautiful- so perfect when you’re so full of me, my love.” Hannibal’s voice was husky as his words were muffled against your lips.

His tongue pushed past your teeth and into your mouth as it tangled with yours while your hips moved in tandem with his. Hannibal’s lips soon parted from your as he took your breast into his mouth using his hand to grope your other. His tongue swirled around your nipple while his teeth dug into your breast. It was all so much the feeling of his cock buried so deep inside of you while his mouth and hands were all over your body. His hand moved from the other as did his mouth, the pleasure he gave you was like no other while he mumbled words of praise against your soft skin. He couldn’t keep his hands off you as he laid you back on the bed, his thrusts became much rougher then they had been when you were seated in his lap. His hips drilled into yours while his lips placed open mouth kisses all over your neck as breasts. You felt as if you were on cloud nine from the sensation of his cock slamming into your cervix over and over. You could barely remember your own name as your orgasm crashed over you while you moaned your husband’s name. Hannibal’s release soon followed yours before he collapsed on top of you peppering the crevice of your neck in small gentle kisses. He soon gently rolled off you, laying beside you as his eyes trailed up your naked body, watching as your skin glimmered with a thin layer of sweat, his gaze landing on your chest that was rising and falling quickly while you caught your breath. He was utterly obsessed with every small movement you made intentionally or not. He was completely devoted to you now as your husband and he made sure you knew that by the way he worshipped your body. You both fell asleep under the plush duvet that covered your bed as you laid on top of the satin sheets underneath entangled in one another. 

You woke in the morning alone in your shared bed, but you were greeted with a small note that read, “ I will be back soon. I ran out to collect groceries for your favourite breakfast. ”

You smiled softly as you placed the note back on the nightstand that rested on Hannibal’s side of the bed. You rose from your warm resting place plucking up Hannibal’s dress shirt from the ground before putting it on yourself. You wandered out from your shared bedroom to peek and see if Hannibal had arrived home yet. You searched the entirety of the house before you came upon his study. You slowly made your way in calling out his name softly, but you were met with no answer as you entered the empty room. You made your way over to his desk finding a few of his drawings laying about. At first they were simply just his lovely drawings of Italy and other places he had explored and his long forgotten past. Then came drawings of you which you held dearest to your heart, but then an image was shown that you knew all too well. Not a portrait of you or of a beautiful landscape, no it was a man with several tools protruding from his skin. Your brow furrowed as you picked up the drawing you knew in your mind there were only a small few people who could have seen this man this way, so how did your husband see him this way? The only people who could have would be the FBI agents who worked the case and the killer… Your brain was running rampant with questions of how your husband could have seen this man. Maybe you left a file out, but you never brought files home. Maybe you told him about the case, but how would he have known the exact tools? Before you could come up with any more explanations you felt the familiar hands of your husband on your shoulders. 

“ So now you know. ”

[h4nj1sunggg]

₂ .𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 - ( h. jisung. )

pairing: rockstar!Han Jisung x groupie fem!reader.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, rockstar x groupie to lovers

words: 4.2k

summary: after Jisung left, he contacted you after months.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  . playlist. part one.

warnings: fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex in a semi-public space (don't be silly), dirty talks, exhibitionism kink.

Months had passed, but the ache in your chest hadn’t quite faded. You told yourself it was anger that lingered—that simmering frustration at how easily Jisung had slipped away, leaving you to piece yourself together while he lit up stages in different cities.

You’d done your best to push him out of your mind, but every so often, his face would pop up on your social media feed, a reminder of what you could never have. You scrolled past videos of him smiling, laughing, pouring his soul into his performances. To the world, he was untouchable, larger than life. To you, he was just a man who had left.

When his text came, it caught you completely off guard.

Your heart sank into your stomach as you stared at the message, the screen illuminating your face in the dark room. You read it over and over, trying to make sense of the emotions it stirred in you.

After everything, after months of radio silence, he thought he could just waltz back into your life?

You tossed your phone onto the bed, running your hands through your hair as the frustration bubbled up again. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to let him sit in the silence he’d left you with. But another part—one that you hated to acknowledge—wanted to see him, to demand answers, to make him understand how much he’d hurt you.

By the time the next evening rolled around, you still hadn’t responded. You were convinced you wouldn’t go. But as the clock ticked closer to the concert’s start time, you found yourself pacing your apartment, torn between your pride and the pull he still seemed to have on you.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, you grabbed your jacket and headed out. You told yourself you weren’t doing this for him—you were doing this for you, for the closure you deserved.

When you arrived at the venue, the sound of the crowd was deafening, a mixture of excitement and chaos. His fame felt overwhelming here, even more so than before. But you pressed on, your steps carrying you toward the private entrance he’d told you about.

You weren’t sure what you’d say when you saw him. All you knew was that you were still angry, still hurt, and he was going to hear every bit of it.

The security guard at the private entrance barely glanced at you before letting you through, his instructions clear: “He’s in the green room.”

Your steps were hesitant, but your resolve remained firm. As you wound through the corridors, the muffled sound of fans screaming outside the venue reminded you of exactly who Jisung was to the world—and of how small your place in his life seemed in comparison.

Finally, you reached the door. His name was scrawled on a piece of tape stuck haphazardly to it, and the sight of it sent a wave of mixed emotions through you. You raised your hand to knock but hesitated. What if he dismissed your feelings? What if you were just setting yourself up to be hurt again?

Before you could decide, the door swung open, and there he was.

Jisung looked different. His hair was slightly longer, his features sharper, like time had matured him in ways you hadn’t expected. But his eyes—the warm brown that made you feel seen in ways no one else could—were the same.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice tentative, as if he wasn’t sure you’d actually show.

You folded your arms across your chest, leaning against the doorframe. “Hey,” you replied, your tone clipped.

He stepped aside, motioning for you to come in. The room was cluttered, his things scattered across the couch and table—a hoodie here, a notebook there. It was so him, and yet it made your stomach churn with frustration.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, shutting the door behind you. He stood awkwardly, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I wasn’t sure if you’d—”

“Why did you text me, Jisung?” you interrupted, cutting straight to the point. “After months of nothing, why now?”

He winced at your tone, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, actually,” he admitted. “And I know I messed up. I know I left without giving you what you deserved. But I didn’t know how to—”

“How to what?” you snapped, your voice rising. “You didn’t know how to treat me like I mattered? How to say more than a half-assed thank-you before disappearing for months?”

He flinched at your words, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” he said quietly. “I didn’t think I’d—hurt you like this.”

“Well, you did,” you shot back. “You can’t just show up when it’s convenient for you and expect me to drop everyth-"

Before you could finish, Jisung closed the distance between you, his hands gently cupping your face as his lips pressed against yours. The kiss was urgent, almost desperate, as though he was trying to pour all his unspoken feelings into that single moment.

Your breath hitched, your body stiffening in surprise. For a split second, you considered pulling away, but the warmth of his touch and the familiarity of his scent clouded your judgment. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you melted into him, your hands gripping the front of his hoodie as if to anchor yourself.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

Jisung's fingers tightened in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. "Don't play coy with me," he mumbled low in his throat, the intensity of his gaze making it impossible to look away. "We both know why I'm here and what we both want."

His other hand slid down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping between your thighs.He cupped your sex through the thin fabric of your shorts, applying pressure that made you bite back a moan.

"You're already wet for me,"he accused with a knowing smirk, rubbing circles against your clit. "I can feel how much you want this."

Oh fuck it, you thought.

"Please, Jisung," you whimpered as his fingers pressed deeper, his hands working on your waistband to push it down. "I need more. I need your mouth on me again."

Jisung don't waste time and your shorts finish on the floor, your back arched against the couch as he settled himself between your thighs.

"Like this?" he asked, voice dripping with seduction as he spread your thighs wide.

You nodded frantically, too desperate for relief to form words. With a wicked grin, Jisung buried his face between your legs and devoured you like a starving man.

His tongue lapped at your clit, swirling around the sensitive nub before sucking it into his mouth. Moans poured from your lips as he worked you over with renewed fervor. Your hips bucked against his face of their own accord, seeking more friction against that talented tongue.

Jisung's husky voice sent shivers down your spine as he murmured filthy promises against your slick folds.

"Gonna eat this sweet cunt until you're screaming for me, baby girl,"he purred, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive flesh.

His tongue traced the crease where thigh met sex, the tip dipping into your drenched slit to gather more of your arousal before slowly licking up to tease your clit.

He circled the swollen bud with deliberate slowness, each pass sending jolts of pleasure through you. "You taste so fucking good," Jisung growled, sucking your clit between his lips and flicking it with his tongue.

His hands gripped your ass cheeks, spreading them wider to deepen his access as he feasted on you in broad daylight. The risk of being caught only seemed to amp up his desire, driving him to be even more wanton in his oral assault.

Jisung's deft fingers probed your tight entrance, teasing the rim of your hole as his tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit. He pushed one finger inside you, curling it to rub against that sensitive spot within that made you see stars.

"Mmm, so tight," he groaned around your throbbing nub, pumping his digit slowly in and out while maintaining the pressure on your clit.

"missed you so fucking much baby," at his words your hips rolled shamelessly into his touch, desperate for more friction.

Jisung added a second finger, scissoring them to stretch you open further as he sucked harder on your clit.

The dual sensations were almost too much to handle - the gentle probing of his fingers and the intense suction from his mouth had you teetering on the brink of climax. Just when you thought release was imminent, Jisung pulled back with a wet pop. He looked up at you with dark eyes gleaming with lust. "Not yet," he warned breathlessly.

Jisung straightened, towering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He palmed his rigid cock through his jeans, the bulge unmistakable even through the denim. "You want this?" he growled, voice low and rough with need.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard right here where anyone could walk in and catch us." The thought of being caught only seemed to inflame him further.

Jisung unzipped his pants, freeing his thick shaft which sprang up eagerly, already glistening with precum at the tip. "Gonna make you feel so good with this big dick that you're gonna forget about how mad you were before," he panted, fisting himself as he positioned himself between your spread thighs.

With one swift motion, he sheathed himself inside you to the hilt. A guttural moan tore from your throat at the sudden intrusion, your body instinctively clenching around him.

Jisung's hips started to move, driving into you with deep, powerful thrusts. His grunts of pleasure mingled with your moans as he pounded into your willing body. "Fuck yeah, take my cock," he snarled, his voice echoing off the walls.

"J-Jisung, oh god.."

He gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he ravaged you in broad daylight. The risk of discovery only seemed to heighten his arousal, each stroke more forceful than the last until it felt like he was trying to split you open.

"Let them hear you scream," Jisung commanded breathlessly, picking up the pace even more. "Want everyone to know who's fucking you so good."

With that challenge hanging in the air, he slammed into you one final time before stilling deep inside.

Jisung's cock twitched inside you as he came, his hot seed spurting deep into your womb. You could feel each pulse of his release against your inner walls, milking every last drop from him.

As the aftershocks faded, he collapsed onto you with a satisfied groan. "can you..," he panted into your ear, his voice breathy. "can you stay?"

"Okay." You mumbled breathless, with a final kiss to your forehead, he carefully extracted himself from your body and began to redress.

"I'll see you later, wait here after," he said softly with a hint of affection in his eyes, you both get dressed pretty fast, ready to go out again after the quick sex that you just had.

The manners that he has, the passion, something that makes your head spin.

The adrenaline of the concert and the private moment you shared still buzzed in your veins as you both stepped back into the world beyond the small, stolen space. Jisung was composed, his idol facade perfectly intact, though a faint flush lingered on his cheeks. You could still feel the ghost of his touch, the electric hum of your connection threading through your thoughts like a live wire.

The venue was alive with post-concert energy—fans still milling about, sharing their excitement, and staff bustling to wrap up the night. Jisung glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a smirk playing on his lips as if the two of you shared a secret no one else in the room could possibly know.

He brushed his hand against yours briefly as you walked side by side, his way of tethering you to him without drawing attention. “I have to head back to the green room for a bit,” he said softly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Stay close.”

You nodded, your heart still racing. It wasn’t just the intimacy you’d shared—it was the way he looked at you, the way he seemed to pull you into his orbit like gravity.

Backstage, the chaos of post-show wrap-up swirled around you, but Jisung remained unbothered, his natural charm and easy smile guiding him through conversations with staff and bandmates. You stayed just out of the way, your presence discreet but undeniable.

He glanced over at you whenever he could, his eyes softening in those brief moments, as though you were the calm in the storm of his life.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only an hour, Jisung finally broke free from the crowd of responsibilities. He walked over to you, his hand casually brushing against your lower back as he leaned in close. “Ready?”

You didn’t need to ask where he was taking you. The answer didn’t matter. With Jisung, you’d go anywhere.

He led you outside into the cool night, the city still buzzing but quieter now, the energy of the concert lingering in the air. “You hungry?” he asked, his tone casual, but the way he looked at you made your stomach flip.

“Starving,” you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“I know a place,” he said, and without another word, he took your hand, his grip firm but gentle.

The two of you walked down the dimly lit streets, the hum of the city around you fading into the background. It wasn’t about where you were going—it was about the moments in between. The quiet jokes, the lingering glances, the way his thumb rubbed small, absent-minded circles against the back of your hand.

By the time you reached the small, tucked-away diner, it felt like you’d stepped into a different world. The neon sign flickered, and the smell of comfort food wafted through the air.

Inside, the place was almost empty, the late hour keeping most people away. Jisung chose a booth in the corner, sliding in across from you with a grin. “This is one of my favourite spots,” he said. “No one really knows about it. It’s quiet.”

You could see why he liked it. The soft hum of conversation from the only other table, the warmth of the decor—it was a world away from the stage lights and screaming fans.

As you both ordered and started to eat, the tension eased into something softer. He was still Han Jisung, the idol who commanded stages and captivated millions, but here, in this quiet moment, he was just a guy sharing fries and stories with you.

“You know,” he said, leaning back against the booth with a contented smile, “I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?” you asked, mirroring his relaxed posture.

“Let someone in like this.” His eyes met yours, earnest and unguarded. “But with you... I don’t know. It feels right.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, shifting the atmosphere between you. Jisung ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the table as if summoning the courage to continue.

“It’s... not easy,” he began, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Letting someone see past the surface, I mean. The stage, the idol persona, the version of me that’s always smiling and acting like everything’s fine. It’s exhausting sometimes.”

You stayed silent, sensing he needed the space to unravel his thoughts.

“It’s not that I don’t want to get close to people,” he continued, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the table. “I just… I get scared. Scared of what they’ll see if they look too closely. Scared of being vulnerable and then having it thrown back in my face.”

His confession tugged at something deep within you. You could see it now, the weight he carried, the way his bright smile often hid a storm beneath the surface.

“I’ve tried before,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a sadness that made your chest ache. “But it’s hard to trust when the world feels like it’s constantly watching, waiting for you to mess up. And the more you let someone in, the more they could hurt you if they wanted to. Sometimes it feels safer to keep people at arm’s length, you know?”

You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you. “Yeah, I get that,” you said softly. “But keeping people out doesn’t make the fear go away. It just makes you lonely.”

His eyes lifted to meet yours, and there it was again—that raw, unfiltered honesty that had drawn you to him in the first place. “You’re right,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I’ve been lonely for a long time. Even surrounded by people, it still feels like I’m alone sometimes.”

The vulnerability in his voice broke your heart a little, but it also made you want to protect him, to show him he didn’t have to carry that burden alone.

“You don’t have to do this by yourself, Jisung,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “It’s okay to let someone in. Not everyone’s going to hurt you.”

He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his expression softening. “That’s the thing about you,” he said quietly. “You don’t feel like everyone else. With you, it’s not just about the moment or the fun or the thrill. It’s something deeper. And that scares me too.”

“Why?” you asked, your heart pounding.

“Because if I let you in, really let you in, and something happens... I don’t think I could handle that.”

The honesty of his admission took your breath away. But instead of pulling back, you leaned in, meeting him where he was.

“Then don’t push me away,” you said simply. “Let’s figure this out together. Whatever happens, we’ll face it. I’m not going anywhere, Jisung.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to decide whether to believe you. Then, slowly, his expression softened into something you could only describe as hope.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Months passed.

Months had passed since that night at the diner, and life had settled into its usual rhythm—or so it seemed from the outside. Jisung had returned to Korea to continue his whirlwind schedule of promotions, recordings, and performances, while you stayed in your hometown, navigating your own day-to-day life.

But the connection you’d built didn’t waver. If anything, the distance seemed to sharpen it, every message and call becoming a lifeline tethering you to him.

There were nights when his voice would come through your phone, soft and low as he lay in bed after a long day.

“I miss you,” he’d confess, the vulnerability in his tone always catching you off guard. “I know I’m supposed to be used to this—being away from people I care about—but with you... it’s harder.”

And there were mornings when you’d wake to texts from him, the time stamp revealing that he’d stayed up late just to talk to you before you started your day.

Jisung: You looked so cute in that picture you sent last night. I saved it. Hope that’s not weird.You: Weird, but also sweet. I’ll allow it.Jisung: Good. Because I would've done anyway eheh

Sometimes, when his schedule allowed, he’d surprise you with a video call, his face lighting up the screen even if he looked exhausted.

“You’re my break,” he’d say, a small, tired smile on his lips. “Talking to you makes everything feel a little less crazy.”

And then there were the shared moments that weren’t planned at all. The times he’d send you a voice note at 2 a.m. Korea time, a snippet of a song he was working on.

“Just something I’m playing with,” he’d say, his voice hushed like he didn’t want anyone to hear. “I was thinking about you when I wrote it.”

Or the care packages you’d exchange—small, thoughtful reminders of each other. You’d send him snacks from your hometown, and he’d send you trinkets from places he visited, often accompanied by handwritten notes that made your heart ache with how much you missed him.

One day, a box arrived with a sweatshirt inside, one you instantly recognized from a photo he’d sent months ago.

Jisung’s note: I know it’s cheesy, but I wanted you to have something of mine. Wear it when you miss me, okay?

You did, of course, and you sent him a picture of yourself wrapped in it, the sleeves too long on you but comforting all the same.

You: It smells like you. This is dangerous. I might never take it off.Jisung: Then I guess I’ll have to bring you another one when I see you baby ;)

The moments you shared weren’t grand gestures or dramatic declarations—they were small, quiet, and deeply intimate. They were the kind of moments that made the distance bearable, even when it felt like the space between you was an ocean too wide to cross.

But even as the months passed, there was a question neither of you dared to ask out loud: how long could you keep this up? How long before the distance became too much, before the longing turned into something heavier, harder to carry?

Jisung: I got you the ticket for the next show :) You: I cannot wait to see you

After the concert, you managed to sneak backstage. You’d perfected the art of blending in with the chaos, and tonight was no different. You weren’t sure if it was sheer confidence or pure luck, but there you were, leaning against a wall, waiting for him to notice.

When Jisung finally walked into the room, his eyes swept across the space and landed on you. A small smirk tugged at his lips. “You again?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Me again,” you replied, flashing him a daring smile.

“You’re bold,” he said, stepping closer. “What makes you think you’ll get away with this?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Because you let me.”

His laugh was soft but full of amusement. “Touché.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Careful, though. Keep this up, and I might start looking for you.”

The promise in his words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, and in that moment, the world outside faded. “Is that a challenge?”you asked, your heart pounding as you searched his eyes for the intent behind his playful demeanor.

“Depends on how you play your cards,” he replied, his eyes glinting with mischief. The chemestry between you crackled in the air, making the dim room feel charged with possibilities. 

You said taking a step closer,“I’m feeling lucky tonight,” emboldened by his playful attitude, “What’s the wrost that could happen?”

Jisung leaned against the wallbeside you, crossing his arms, a grin spreading across his face. “A lot,” he replied, his gaxe lingering on your lips for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“But I think you would enjoy it.” You raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

A mischievous glint ignited in his eyes as he pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between you.

“Alright then, let’s raise the stakes. How about a game of truth or dare?” His voice was low, almost teasing, and the room seemed to pulse with an electric energy. 

“Truth or dare? Really?” you laughed, feigning nonchalance, but your heart raced at the thought of where this might lead. 

“You’re on.” 

“Dare,” he said, his bravado unwavering. 

You thought for a moment, weighing your options, before deciding to lean into the playful tension. “I dare you to kiss me,” you declared, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach. 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but the glimmer in his eyes revealed he was more than ready to accept your challenge. 

He stepped closer until you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the air thick with anticipation. “Bold choice,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he leaned in.

 The world around you vanished completely, leaving only the two of you in this moment suspended in time. His lips brushed against yours—soft, tentative at first—but as you melted into the kiss, he deepened it, igniting a fire within you that sent your thoughts spiraling. 

Your heart raced, the sound of it echoing in your ears as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace. When he finally pulled away, both of you breathless, a grin broke across his face. 

“Guess I should have expected that from you,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with delight. Embarrassment tinged your cheeks, but you couldn’t help but smile back.

 “What can I say? I like to gamble.” 

“Let’s see how lucky you really are,” he challenged, a hint of something more serious weaving into his playfulness. 

“Your turn. Truth or dare?” You felt the weight of the moment settle around you, and with a newfound confidence, you replied, “Dare, of course.”

His smile widened, the kind of smile that made your heart race all over again. There was something electric in the air now, something that felt heavier than before. As if the world around you had tilted and suddenly everything felt more alive.

"Alright then," he said, his voice low and deliberate. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I dare you to—" he paused, letting the tension build, "—kiss me back."

The challenge in his voice was undeniable. He was pushing you further now, testing the boundaries of this playful game, and it’s getting hotter in the small place of the waiting room.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The cheeky dare, the challenge in his eyes, and the overwhelming chemistry between you made it impossible to think clearly. But that hesitation was fleeting, replaced with a fierce spark of boldness.

You stepped forward, closing the gap between you again, your movements sure. Without a word, you took him by surprise, your hands slipping into his hair as you pulled him toward you. The kiss was instant and unrestrained. 

This time, you didn’t wait for him to lead. You matched his intensity, kissed him back with a fire of your own. His grip tightened around you, pulling you closer, until it felt like nothing else in the world mattered except the two of you. 

When the kiss ended, neither of you immediately pulled away. Your foreheads rested against each other as the room seemed to swirl around you. 

He was the first to speak, his voice a bit breathless. "Well, now I know... you're definitely not afraid of taking risks."

You smirked, teasing, "Who says I’m afraid of anything?"

His eyes darkened, a mischievous glint still dancing in them. "Careful," he warned, his tone shifting, now more serious, "you just might tempt fate too much."

You leaned back, giving him a questioning look, but before you could speak, he held up his hands. "But I’m not complaining."

You chuckled, feeling the lingering heat between you, but the game was far from over. 

"Your turn," he said, his voice now playful again, but there was something more challenging about it. "Truth or dare?"

You looked him up and down, your mind racing. The stakes were higher now, and the room felt charged with anticipation. You could feel your pulse quicken at the thought of what could come next.

Without hesitation, you answered, "Dare."

A slow smile spread across his face. He was thinking, the wheels in his mind turning. Then, his grin turned devious. "Alright, here it is. I dare you to take a risk. A real one."

Your brow furrowed slightly, trying to decipher what he meant. "What kind of risk?"

He raised an eyebrow, enjoying your confusion. "I dare you to tell me what you're really thinking right now. No games, no hiding. The truth."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Your heart thudded louder in your chest. The playful atmosphere had shifted, and now there was something more intimate, more vulnerable in the air. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, waiting for you to break.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how exposed you were, how easily this could turn from fun and games into something much more serious. But then again, maybe that was exactly what he was daring you to do—be real.

You took a deep breath, letting the silence hang between you for a moment longer before answering. "I'm thinking... that I’m really starting to like you."

His expression softened, and for a second, the tension between you seemed to ease. Then, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes held something deeper. "Funny," he said, "I was thinking the exact same thing."

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