#hmm maybe i should make a video of this

[merlions]

I hope all new fiber artists know that the "slightly misshapen" object they made that they're stressed about not looking good:

1. Happens to every fiber artist always, you're too zoomed in to its every detail because you're the one who made it and most people would think it looks normal, or at least much less misshapen than you do, stand 20ft away from it and look at it and then see how you feel (true about all art tbh)

2. Gets better and more uniform each time you do anything

and the *very most important*:

3. Can be made Significantly Less Misshapen by just grabbing the fabric and stretching it in a few directions

I keep helping new fiber artists who are like "but my thing looks so bad :(((" by like, taking their object and stretching it sideways and horizontal, and handing it back, and they're like "????? Magic?????" bc it looks perfect.

Trust the process. Trust the stretchy process

[marshmallowgoop]

About Lip Flap...

So, Ending 72 of Detective Conan got me thinking about lip flap:

What do I mean by that? Well, in some circles of the AMV-making world, it's maybe viewed as a "sin" to leave lip flaps unedited when there are no audible words. You either cut out the movements entirely, or you sync up the movements to match the lyrics of the song. Lip flap is distracting and immersion breaking.

Yet... this Detective Conan ending—mixing anime and music just like an AMV!—has lots of lip flap. Characters are talking and living and spouting out conversations, and there's no effort at all to hide or remove that. In fact, this sequence was deliberately animated that way.

And it's far from the only Detective Conan example in this vein. Which brings me to my next thought: early episodes of Detective Conan include instances of montages or characters otherwise moving their mouths without sound, but the FUNimation English dub seemingly found this so uncomfortable that words were added in:

Sometimes, I really love this choice! Conan's voice fading into Shinichi's in Episode 39 is one of my all-time favorite moments in the dub. Similarly, Conan's added little "but"s in Episode 32 are adorable.

But I feel like the montage in Episode 37 is weakened by the added dialogue because we didn't need any words to understand the story, and while Episode 42 might be argued to be more compelling and "show don't tell" without Conan's narration, we do miss a fair amount of information from that narration.

Overall, though, I think the changes indicate a cultural difference. Lip flap without audible words is fine for Japanese audiences, but overseas, it's seen as awkward and jarring.

So, is it a "sin" to include unedited lip flap in your AMVs? Well, it probably depends on who you ask!

But personally, my mindset has changed to not at all. I think there are moments where the indication of words can be quite powerful, just like in Detective Conan Ending 72 or the montage in Episode 37. While I mostly try to remove or sync lip flap in my own AMVs, there are also definitely times where I leave it. What's wrong with showing that there was a conversation?

That said... I gotta come clean. One of my first reactions to Ending 72 was to almost cringe at all the lip flap! But then I thought about it some more. While I'm rather inexperienced with making MMVs (Manga Music Videos), ever since I started, I've been a fan of leaving the speech bubbles unedited, text and all—despite the fact that this, similarly, seems to be somewhat of a "sin." I liked providing context, I liked that there were creative things you could do with the dialogue... and hey, is that really so different from leaving in some lip flap from time to time?

In the end, AMV editing is very subjective. Everyone has their own preferences and styles that speak to them, and that's part of what makes the art form so beautiful to me. But Ending 72 made me step back and reconsider some of the "rules" that I'd drilled into my head. Maybe what I've become so used to seeing as a "flaw" can actually be quite powerful in its own right!

[daisywords]

hate when the things I've convinced myself are just excuses turn out to be real issues after all

[ammyandissunbesties4lyfe]

i need to get back to okamiposting i joined artfight and have been distracted by it for 2 days so ive just been thinking abt my ocs nonstop

[quibbs126]

Also on that topic, old, semi-obscure PS1 games are a blessing and curse in and of themselves

Because on one hand: I’m finding these new games that I’m falling in love with and keep thinking about. Like yeah, they’re a bit jank because of how old they are, and maybe some of the ideas could have been executed better, but I love them to death. Not to mention, I find a certain charm to PS1 3D graphics; they’re rudimentary but I can’t help but love them for it, and sometimes it means that they’re blending it with 2D sprites and they just mesh really well together. Breath of Fire 4 looks amazing to me because of how the 2D and 3D blend so well together

But on the other: they’re old and they aren’t all beloved classics like Final Fantasy 7 or Resident Evil. So that means there’s not much content about them, whether it’s looking for help on these games (though admittedly that’s a problem of obscure games of all ages), or finding the music online in high quality because the last time someone uploaded these OSTs was 15 years ago. And don’t even get me started on looking for fan content of these games, I can barely find any

Now again, this isn’t just relegated to older games, these are issues with newer games that just never got much of a fanbase as well. It’s just that with these PS1 games, there’s almost no chance they have a fan base in current day if I haven’t already heard of the game prior to seeing it

[nochepsicodelica]

♡ ʕ˶´• ᴥ •`˶ʔ ♡

"Toji, do you love me?" You ask, as if he isn't curled up with you, his head resting on your shoulder so that he can see the stupid videos that pop up on your feed.

"Why would you even ask me that?" He mutters, tilting his head up to look at you.

"You're taking forever to respond. Oh... my heart," you say, your voice forcefully strained while clutching your chest as if you're pained.

"Don't start--"

"It's crumblingggg," you cry out, dramatically. "Oh god, it hurts so much, Toji! How could you? Is this how it feels to have love taken away? I should go outside and tie myself to a pole and see if there are any takers. Maybe, someone will actually want me and give me a warm, safe, and loving home." You give him a hopeful smile. "Yeah... that sounds nice and peaceful."

"Uh-huh, sure. Too bad you're not going anywhere. You get me and our warm, safe, and loving home." You huff, childishly, at that, to which Toji grins. "You know I love your dramatic ass. You keep asking if we can get a dog, but you're basically like if a husky turned human."

You gasp at that, playfully offended, and stare at him in disbelief. "I'll be waiting for your apology," you say, putting your hood on and turning your back to him.

"Baby, come on," he pleads, chuckling. "Come on. You're not mad at me."

"I am. I'm furious," you say, monotonously. "You shouldn't even look at me right now. I'm ferocious," you add, trying not to laugh at your own word choice.

"Yeah? You're a scary thing, right now, 'cause I made you mad?"

"Mhm," you hum, in response, and continue to scroll and watch videos without him.

"Hmm..." He leans over and snatches your phone out of your hands, tossing it towards the end of the bed. You feel helpless as he smoothly pulls your hood off, flips you onto your back, and straddles you. Your arms are pinned beside your head, by his enormous paws. You've been somewhat manhandled into surrender and all you can do is laugh as you look up at him.

"This is your ferociousness?" Toji asks, with a dumb grin on his face when you simply nod and press your lips together, to do a horrible job of stifling your amusement. "I'm so strong and brave, huh?" Again, you nod, unable to contain the giggles that spill out. "What if I... I don't know..." he murmurs, leaning down, closer to you. "Just gave you a little..."

The distance between your lips is closed off by Toji's lips pressing against yours—a slow, savored kiss, that makes your hands go limp beside you. He is utterly disarming, even against your faux grumpiness.

He hums something low against your lips when your laughter begins to bubble up once again. "Mm... You were never mad at me, were you?" Toji asks.

"And if I was?" You say, a gleam of mischief in your eyes and a sly smirk on your face.

"I'll kiss you, again. Is that really what you want?" He says, as if it's a threat.

"You know it. Kiss me, sugar lips," you say, amusedly.

"Why are you like this?" He mutters, rolling off of you and positioning himself beside you on the bed.

"Fine, gravel lips. Rock salt lips, sandpaper lips—is that what you want me to call you instead?" You ask, turning over to face him.

He slings an arm over your waist and pulls you in close. The scent of his body wash smells warmer as it mingles with his body heat. It's relaxing, fitting for the lazy day you've both indulged in. "You don't mean it," he responds, smugly. "I was sugar lips before you decided you wanted to hurt my feelings."

"Whatever," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

"Love you, sassy baby," he says, teasingly. "Don't ever doubt it. Now, where were you going with that question?"

"Well, it was going to be built up to me asking you if you have a Valentine, but then you crapped all over it. Now, it's not cute and it stinks. My plan reeks of failure."

"There's my dramatic girl," Toji utters under his breath, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Why don't you try again?" He says, smiling with amusement. "I'll even play along, alright?"

You sigh, as if it's going to take forever to pick up from where you left off, but nonetheless prepare to retry.

"Okay, fine," you start off, a soft sigh leaving your lips. "You love me, Toji?" You ask once more, already trying not to laugh at the focus he holds on you, like he's answering a survey.

"You know I do," he responds.

"Okay. Are you busy on the fourteenth of February?"

"Not that I know of."

"Are you interested in doing something that day?"

"Yeah, you, but go on," he says, smoothly.

"Toji," you chide, with a giggle. "Be serious."

"Fine, fine. Uh, yeah. I am," he answers. "Gotta treat my baby real nice, don't I?" He says, with a smirk.

You press your lips together, and compose yourself before asking the next question. "Do you have a Valentine?"

He tilts his head and deadpans, as if you're playing some sort of joke on him. "Ma."

"Just answer the question, Toji," you whisper, like you're breaking out of the questionnaire you made for him. "Do you have a Valentine?" You repeat, in your normal voice.

"Yeah, I got a Valentine," Toji says, his eyes trailing down your face, to your lips and back up to meet your eyes, again. His hand slides under your sweater and grabs ahold of your bare waist. He loves the layer of goosebumps that rises on your skin when he touches you. You're just so reactive to him. "She's basically an actress with how dramatic she is. It cracks me up, 'cause it's like talking to one of those screaming huskies she's always showing me on her phone." He grins, ready for you to go off, again. "Look at her, look at her. She's about to do it, right now," he says, lowly, his eyes glued to your squinted ones.

"Hmph. If you want me gone, just say so. Here I am, trying to ask you out on a date for Valentine's Day. Trying to show you all my love and affection and... and ugh—you don't care about my effort. You don't care about how romantic I am. So, you know what you're getting instead of wined and dined?"

"What's that, mama?" Toji asks, attempting to stay serious through your little dramatic fit.

"A big pile of nothing. No chocolates, not even a rose. And then at night, i'm gonna make a pillow wall between us, so you can't touch me. I had a gooood surprise for you, too, but you won't get it, until... uhh... I haven't decided, but it won't be on Valentine's Day," you assure.

"Baby," Toji coos, smirking at the light grumpiness in your features.

"No," you grumble, with a huff.

"Pretty baby. My pretty, pretty Valentine," he murmurs, the corners of his lips curling when he sees your facade crumbling. "Oh," he utters, with a soft, barely audible gasp. "Look at that little smile. It's getting bigger... and bigger... and-"

"Stop!" You cry out, through a laugh. Toji takes that as an invitation to pull you in even closer. To see your sunshine-like smile up close and hear more of those uncontrollable giggles as he tries to kiss you.

"Don't turn away from my sugar lips. Kiss 'em," he instructs, reaching for your jaw. With ease, he makes you face him again, soft laughter still spilling past your lips. "Be nice," he says, his voice a low purr. "You're my good girl, right? You'll let me kiss you?"

You sigh, defeated, and stop resisting his affection. "Yeah," you mumble, a confirmation for both statements.

"You're an angel," he murmurs, before connecting your lips once again. You feel his thumb stroking your side, causing your heart to race and goosebumps to surface on your skin all over again. They spread even more when his hand travels towards your back, his fingertips running up and down your spine.

His kisses are soft and slow, yet, still manage to bring heat to your cheeks. You know that if breathing wasn't necessary, he would spend hours on just kissing you, nonstop. Kissing until your lips feel raw and miserably bruised—tender to the touch. Until just the act of him leaning in for a mere peck, has you putting your hands up to his chest to stop him before he gets to your lips, again.

With a soft, final smack of your brushing lips, Toji breaks the kiss. "Say," he drawls, a sly smirk forming on his lips, "do you have a Valentine, sweetness?"

You hum, like you're thinking thoroughly about the question. "No, unfortunately," you respond, wiping the smirk off his face in an instant.

"Baby, you have to answer the question honestly," he whispers, mimicking the way you did before. You crack a grin and nod, compliantly. "So... you got a Valentine, doll?" He repeats, in his normal voice.

"No, I haven't been asked," you respond.

Toji scoffs. "Really?"

"Yeah, you said to answer honestly. I asked you to be my Valentine, but you haven't asked me."

"You asked if I have a Valentine," he corrects. "See, you're not being entirely honest with me," he says, shaking his head and clicking his tongue in disbelief.

"Will you be my Valentine, Toji?" You ask, trying incredibly hard to stay serious, though your lips are quivering, giving away the laughter you're suppressing.

"Yeah, i'll be your Valentine, pretty. Will you be my Valentine?" He asks, in return.

"Yes, i'll be your Valentine," you answer.

"Great. And those plans you made for Valentine's Day... are we still on for that?"

You laugh. He looks like he's genuinely hoping you were joking about shutting it all down.

"Of course we are, baby. The plans were never cancelled. I didn't think you actually believed me."

"You're cold for that, ma. Ice cold," Toji grumbles, earning a chime of your laughter. His hand comes out from under your sweater and travels lower and lower until he's able to grab the back of your thigh and lift your leg over his hip. "Let me warm you up."

[kissitbttr]

holup— ima need a moment with my thoughts 🥵🥵 miguel sending reader’s ex a photo mid-sex is so petty and so him!! he would follow up with a video of himself giving you back shots (he’ll hide your face because he’s a gentlemen (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)), flip the camera around to show his face with a smirk and say “lose her number” because he’s a cocky ass mf

MAAAN you’re onto something anon, cuz a waterfall just breaks down in between my legs🤤🤤

-

“hmm, you like that huh, baby?”

his lips pulls into a lazy smirk, heavy panting as he pounds you from behind. both of his hands gripping onto your hips, talons digging slightly into the skin giving you the perfect pain of pleasure,

“yes papi—fuck yes” you mewl, mouth slightly wide open as you release another moan that makes his cock twitch. “i love how deep you get inside me”

he exhales a dark chuckle as he pounds faster, “sé que te gusta. dirty, dirty fucking girl.” then he leans slightly to whisper on your ear. “only for me, hm?”

you nod, biting down onto your lower lip as you’re running out of things to say. your brain tends to fogged when you have his cock deep inside your cunt, but you wouldn’t have it any other way,

as he about to fist your hair up, he hears a ‘ding’ coming from your phone. his brows furrowed curiously, because who the fuck is hitting up your phone at this hour? couldn’t be someone from work,

“who’s that?” he asks breathlessly as he watches you pull your head back before grabbing your phone and check,

“aw fuck”

“what?” he asks again, hearing you groan. “who is it?”

“remember Jonathan?” you ask as you look over your shoulder at him

oh man, he does not need to be told twice.

his expression then slowly formed into anger and annoyance, grunting in disgust as he snatches your phone,

“i’ll teach him a fucking lesson” he says through gritted teeth, hips snapping back into yours as he continues to thrust even faster,

miguel unlocks your phone, pressing the camera before he starts to take a video of your backside. the sound of your dirty moans are filling the room as he plunges deeper, his other hand coming to give your ass a smack.

the word ‘papi’ and ‘miguel’ keeps falling off your lips like a prayer, and it just feeds his ego even more. because he knows that Jonathan will watch this video and learns that you don’t belong to that sorry excuse of a man anymore.

no. you belong to him.

“tell me, baby” he adjusts the camera to the back of your head, making sure that your face isn’t in it. “who’s pussy is this?”

“yours” you say without any hesitation, knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets far too hard. “and no one else’s”

“good girl” he then flips the camera to show his face. his expression is dead serious, eyes locked into the screen as if he’s staring Jonathan in person. and for the icing on a cake, his fangs make a tiny bit appearance just to creep him off.

“lose her number, tú hijo de puta. or i’ll kill you” with that he sends it to your ex, throwing your phone to the side. “now he fucking knows to not text you anymore ”

hearing that makes you flush as you giggle. miguel’s hand slowly glide down against you back and pressing you onto the mattress so he can lay his body down completely on top. “my woman” he whispers lowly into your ear,

“hm, maybe next time if he does it again, you should take a picture of me sucking your cock, right papi?” you suggest with a sly smirk,

he groans at that, his hand coming up to choke you as the other supporting his weight beside your torso.

“ay, that’s why you’re my everything, mami”

[silverbrain]

The LADS when you get them flowers

coz men should be given flowers too!

Xavier

On your way back from the association on a breezy evening, you’re stopped at a red light when you spot an old woman selling a few flowers. The bright yellow sunflowers catch your eyes and you find yourself simply unable to look away.

You quickly steer off towards her, and decide to buy them, planning to give them to Xavier. You wonder what he will say, and your heart skips a beat as you imagine the surprise on his face.

You quickly scramble home and double check with Xavier who is waiting on his dinner delivery that he ordered for the two of you.

“Is that who I hope it is?”, Xavier asks from his place on the couch, leaning back to look towards the door. He had hardly moved since he had placed himself there on the sofa with his evening coffee. It was a rare day off that he had and he had found himself in a rabbit hole of conspiracy theory videos. 

“Xavier!! I’m finally free!”, you say cheerfully as you take off your shoes and enter his apartment.

He chuckles. He knows how much you hate the paperwork.

“These are for you”, you say, moving towards him, with your arm outstretched, five bright yellow sunflowers standing tall.

“What?” He looks from your face to the flowers, back to your face. “For me?”

You nod. Xavier laughs softly but he takes them quickly. “Thank you”, he says after a beat, before enveloping you in his arms.

He puts them in a vase, and doesn’t elaborate but you can see the faint blush painting his cheeks. You settle down to have dinner when he brings it up. “You know…”, he begins, “I don’t think I’ve ever been given flowers before…”, he says shyly.

He never gets used to it whenever you pick up random flowers to give him.  

Zayne

Zayne’s eyes widen when you give him the bouquet of flowers, a sophisticated set of pink tulips.

“Happy Doctor’s Day!”, you wish him. He stands there; a bit too shocked to move.

“You…got me flowers for Doctor’s Day?”, he asks, as if you had got him a pet rat instead.

“Yeah! After all, you ARE my favorite doctor”, you say, smiling.

He smiles before leaning in, placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Really? Is that what I am to you? Your favorite doctor? Nothing else?”, he asks, mischievously.

“What else?”, you ponder, a finger dramatically resting against your chin.

"Maybe the funniest person you know?", he questions.

You snort, but it comes out quiet, muffled. "Hmm some days", you shrug.

Zayne laughs, the sound deep in his chest before he holds you close. "Thank you, they're very pretty."

"Are they the only thing that's very pretty?"

"Hmm. What else?", he wonders, copying you dramatically.

"There's a note", you tell him. Zayne raises an eyebrow in question before he unfolds the paper, but you stop him quickly.

"Not....now...later maybe?"

"Why...?", he asks.

"Maybe I'm shy??"

"Why?", he continues, "after all, I'm just your favorite doctor, am I not? There should be nothing in this letter that makes you so shy."

Rafayel

Poor Rafayel had been having a terrible week after he had taken up an art commission with a businessman who couldn't tell blue from purple but insisted on criticizing any sketches Rafayel sent him.

He's been calling you at least five times a day, and even though you've been trying to spend some time with him after work, you wonder if there's anything else you can do to make him feel better.

As you finish talking to him for the second time in an hour, and it’s only 11am, your eyes fall upon the plastic flower decor at the Association and a plan begins brewing in your mind.

Maybe a bouquet would cheer the man up.

On your break you decide to visit the florist by the hotpot place and send off a fat bouquet of oriental lilies with a short note. 'Hang in there fishie. I'll get back to you in no time ♡'

You can't deny you're waiting for your phone to light up in the next hour, and it does. You accept the video call, trying to hide your smile.

"Do you think you can appease me with these?", Rafayel pouts, but it's only playful.

You lean forward and laugh a little. "Is it not working. Oh...", you feign disappointment.

"I didn't say it isn't!!", he replies hurriedly. "It's just...the promise of seeing you soon is only making it harder to stop counting the minutes till I do see you..."

"Well, let these keep you company till then. I sent them with special instructions to take care of the recipient", you reply.

"Wow cutie, you can talk to flowers now?"

When you see him in the studio that evening, the flowers are in a vase right next to him, and he seems to have made some progress with his paintings. He doesn't waste a single moment before wrapping you up in his arms and peppering kisses all over your face.

Sylus

There is no love purer than mine. Sylus's words echo in your head as you walk through Vagrant's Land on the way to the Onychinus Base.

It had been some time since he had said it, but it was making your heart thump as your thoughts returned to the old couple you had met while finding Tobias. They had met so long ago, and they had been together for so long. “I didn’t know what love was before I met her”, the man had said and that had sent your thoughts into a flashback.

You think of Sylus, and you feel your cheeks flush, wondering if there was something you could do for him. As you mount your bike, ready to return, you decide to buy him some flowers. Imagining Sylus with flowers was hard, he was more suited to shiny gems or sleek metals, but his heart sure was soft as a flower.

You take a detour. Standing in the middle of the flower shop, you wonder what kind of flowers he’d like. You had some ideas, but the variety the shop had to offer was making your brain spiral. You finally decide to go with your first choice. You buy three red roses and begin the ride back home, hoping the dumb crow wouldn't tattle before you got there.

Sylus is doing ‘business’ when you get back, but he doesn’t miss the way you hurry a little.

“You’re back kitten? How did everything go?”

“Oh, you know, nothing special”, you reply. “I do have something for you, though” You cross the room quickly, giving him the flowers. He raises an eyebrow from where he’s sitting, unsure.

“Go on, it’s not a trick”, you joke.

Sylus extends his hand to accept the flowers, his fingers brushing yours softly. It builds an anticipation in you, a slight nervousness, but you look at him to find that he seems even more affected.

Sylus opens his mouth to reply, but words fail him. He closes his mouth again and raises his ruby red eyes to meet yours. “You…got these for me, kitten”

“Yup”, you answer.

He stares at them long. “Where did you get them?”

Where?! What kind of question? But before you can reply he’s standing up to wrap his arms around your waist and lift you up, causing a little squeak to escape your lips. “Thank you, dear”, he whispers, oh so quietly before he kisses your hair.

Caleb

You want to surprise Caleb with something when you visit Skyhaven for a friend’s wedding. You don’t tell Caleb you’re visiting, even though he calls you pretty frequently. You just want to see the look of surprise on his face when you catch him off guard.

You bring along a big jar of apple syrup, the special recipe that he likes, but as you type in the address in your phone, you wonder if you could somehow do more. You notice a flower shop close by and decide the colonel’s house needed some flowers to make it a home.

Caleb opens the door and stands there in shock at seeing you. When the initial shock wears off, you present the bouquet of daisies to him shyly. “For you”, you smile.

“Thank you”, he whispers, like it’s so, so precious. He kisses your cheek, then your lips, before he’s kissing all over your face and making you laugh. He’s laughing too, softly, happily.

“The things you do...You make me so happy pipsqueak”.

He takes one flower out to place it in your hair. “There, now we’re matching.”

[changetyre]

this ideia just came through my mind and now im obsessed with it

so its a lando X reader where she went with him to film chicken shop date and amelia notices how funny the reader is and starts to "flirt" with her too and the reader flirts back

all this situation make lando giggling a lot and amelia suggests to the 3 of the become a couple and the internet gets crazy lol idk

Picked the wrong date II Lando Norris x Reader Ⓢ

SUMMARY: You convince Lando to accept the invite to chicken shop date telling him it would make a hilarious video knowing his shy and awkward personality. What neither of you expected was the connection between you and Amelia.

WARNINGS: none? it's short and not proofread.

A/N: This is definitely a request different from what I normally get so I was kind of just winging it;) still hope you enjoy it.

"Hey, it's so nice to meet you. Thank you for coming." Amelia walked over to greet Lando with a handshake.

"Likewise, and I'll be honest if it wasn't for this one I don't think I would've come." Lando laughed pointing back at you.

"Oh really?!" Amelia laughed as she greeted you with a hug. "Are you a fan of the show?" She asked you as she pulled away.

"Big fan, I'm obsessed with your videos, especially the ones with Finneas and Aitch." You replied honestly.

"oooh fun times." Amelia smiles awkwardly making you laugh.

"Go sit down baby." You nudged Lando as you saw someone waiting for him to get mic'd up.

"Right." Lando kissed your cheek then the back of your hand before finally letting go.

"Aww, how cute." Amelia stayed next to you as she was already prepped. "How long have you two been together." She asked.

"Just over two years." you blushed just thinking about your time with Lando thus far.

"Aww, well he's lucky to have you, you're stunning." Amelia complimented you.

"Isn't she just?" Lando smirked overhearing.

"Oh stop it you two are making me go red." You giggled walking over to an empty seat behind the cameras.

_________

"I know you followed me a long time ago and I didn't follow you back," Lando confessed.

"Wha-" Amelia feigned offense. "Yeah, that's true I was gonna bring that up"

"I was just playing hard to get." Lando laughed awkwardly making you smile at his awkwardness.

"Maybe you'll follow me back? Actually, I don-"

"I do actually follow you back now." Lando revealed.

"You do?" Amelia asked surprised.

"Well yeah but to be honest only because she made me." Lando pointed over to you.

"Hmm, maybe I should be on a date with her." Amelia joked making both you and Lando laugh.

"Maybe you should. She's great." Lando giggled.

"Hmm, why don't you give me your number after this?" Amelia asked you.

"Sure will baby." You played along.

"Ooo baby." Amelia giggled, twirling her hair at you jokingly all while Lando couldn't stop smiling.

"You stealing my girlfriend?" Lando joked.

"Hmm, we'll see by the end of this," Amelia said as she took a bite of a fry.

"Cool." Lando looked down laughing.

_

"I just looked at my calendar yesterday." Lando joked pretending he wasn't aware of this interview until yesterday.

"I've known about this for years, it's in my diary." Amelia said making Lando laugh.

"Oh yeah? Your personal diary? What did it say?" Lando asked.

"It said, date with Lando Norris secretly a plot to get with his girlfriend who is crazy beautiful and will be sitting out of frame but just in my line of view throughout the entire date." Amelia improvised all while you couldn't help but laughing.

"It said all of that?" Lando asked laughing too as he looked over at you to see you giggling along.

"Oh yeah." Amelia tried holding back her laugh too.

"Your plot is working honey." You commented.

"Yeah, I figured." Amelia nodded confidently.

_

"You know I've never been to a race." Amelia pointed out.

"You should come." Lando replied, and you could notice the honesty in the invite.

"I would love to," Amelia replied eagerly. "Maybe she can show me around while you're looking for the on button on your car." Amelia winked at you.

You couldn't hold back your laugh. "I'll show you anything you want." You flirted along.

"Anything?" Amelia raised her eyebrows suggestively.

You had to hold back a laugh to flirt along. "Anything." You reaffirmed.

"Woah some things are for my eyes only baby," Lando spoke to you trying to hold back a laugh.

"It could be for our eyes only Lando," Amelia suggested to Lando.

"hmm, I'll think about it." Lando played along able to control his laughter and pretending to think about it.

_

"I heard it's quite hot in there." Amelia continued.

"Yeah, it gets very hot," Lando confirmed. "Yeah, sweaty and-"

"Even hotter if I was in there," Amelia added.

Lando chuckled looking down shyly. "Even hotter if she was in there." Lando quickly recovered pointing over at you.

"Hmm true true." Amelia nodded corroborating.

_

"Can you drive?" Lando asked.

"Uhm-" Amelia hesitated.

"That's a no."

"Just a- we'll just move on." Amelia brushed past the question.

Lando silently sniggered. "It's okay y/n can't drive either."

"See you drive and y/n and I can be your passenger princesses." Amelia pointed out.

"Oh right so like a throuple situation or?" Lando asked.

"Uh well yeah I guess so I'm not sure I can get her without you so." Amelia shrugged.

"Right, that's settled then." Lando shrugged too as if concluding the plan.

Amelia looked around for a bit silently. "Sorry, I'm just imagining that happening and it's great." She smiled dreamily.

-

The rest of the date was similar, with jokes and awkward laughter, as well as flirting between you and Amelia and occasionally Lando.

You knew F1 fans would love this when it came out and there was no doubt they'd love the little added comments from your side.

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ NO. 1 PARTY ANTHEM

❛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 "𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦" 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘨. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘶𝘨𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘥𝘨𝘦. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘣𝘪𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘶𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. ❜

timeline: 2025

synopsis: At TWS’s first concert in Seoul, Jeonghan and Luna show up looking like the hottest rockstar couple with Seungkwan as their reluctant, third-wheeling son— causing chaos, PDA, and social media meltdowns in their wake.

wc: 7.8k

warnings: cursing, slightly suggestive, established relationship, teasing, PDA, some text messages, some fan tweets (smau), domestic!JeongNa simp!JeongNa, third-wheel!Seungkwan, rockstar couple, fluff, lowkey a crack fic, #SomebodySaveSeungkwan

a fun and short one, my loves! just something for you guys (including myself) who lost it over Jeonghan’s fit at that concert 🫠 happy reading, my lovelies! ❤️

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

It was late on a Saturday night, the kind of late that felt like the world outside had melted into static.

Their bedroom was dark save for the dim golden glow of the nightstand lamp, and the quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the room in steady rhythm, soft and low like a lullaby. The heavy duvet was messily thrown over their legs, tangled between bare limbs, and the weight of sleep hung thick in the air like fog— but neither of them seemed to mind.

Jeonghan lay back against the headboard, one arm tucked comfortably under his head, the other lazily slung around Luna’s waist. His phone was propped up in his free hand, the brightness dimmed to match the mellow ambiance of the room. Beside him, Luna lay curled into his side, her head rising and falling on his bare chest with each of his slow, steady breaths. Her own phone was cradled in one hand, thumb scrolling absently.

They weren’t speaking much, not that they had to. This was their usual kind of rest.

Some might’ve called it counterproductive, two people lying in bed staring at separate screens with barely a word exchanged.

But for Jeonghan and Luna, this was peace. This was their favorite kind of together. Quiet, close, half-wrapped around each other with the intimacy of knowing there was nowhere else either of them wanted to be.

No performance, no small talk. Just proximity and contentment.

Luna let out a quiet breath, her thumb stopping on a video edit of a cooking fail. She held the phone up to Jeonghan’s line of sight with a lazy smirk.

“That’s us when we tried to make brownies with oat flour that one time,” she murmured sleepily.

Jeonghan chuckled, chest rumbling beneath her cheek. “No, that’s you,” he corrected, voice husky and slow. “I told you oat flour was a scam.”

“You said it after we added it,” she countered, not bothering to lift her head.

“Still counts.”

She huffed a soft laugh and went back to scrolling.

Jeonghan’s hand that rested at her waist began tracing slow, idle circles over the fabric of her oversized sleep shirt, a motion so absentminded yet affectionate it made Luna’s lashes flutter just slightly against his skin.

Jeonghan blinked lazily at his screen, thumb hovering above the calendar app before he finally said, “What should we do next week on my weekend off?”

Luna hummed in acknowledgment, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hmm?”

“I was thinking…” His fingers slid up from her waist to her back, smoothing over the curve of her spine in long strokes, slow and warm. “We should go out. Like, an actual date. Not just to the grocery store.”

That made Luna look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. She blinked at him, a soft amused smile tugging at her lips.

“A date?” she repeated.

Jeonghan’s hand rose to her hair this time, gently brushing his fingers through the strands. “Mmhmm. You know. Public. Dressed up. Maybe we even walk. Outside. Like people do.”

She snorted. “You sure you’re up for that kind of commitment?”

“Bold of you to assume I won’t cancel last minute.”

She grinned and nuzzled closer into his chest, her phone now forgotten beside her. Jeonghan adjusted to wrap both arms around her, tugging her in until she was nearly draped over his entire torso like a human blanket.

“What did you have in mind?” she mumbled, eyes falling shut.

“I don’t know yet,” he murmured against the top of her head, kissing her hair lightly. “Usually we just stay home and build Legos and end up arguing about instructions halfway through.”

“That was one time.”

“It was every time,” he said, amused. “We still have a headless Dalmatian somewhere.”

Luna giggled softly, the kind that shook her shoulders just enough to make Jeonghan’s arms tighten around her.

“We could go out for dinner?” she offered sleepily. “Get drinks. Maybe go to the Han River, it’s been a while.”

“We always say that and end up in our kitchen drinking wine in pajamas.”

“Because it’s better,” she mumbled.

He smiled. “I know, baby.”

They both went quiet again, her body slowly relaxing more and more into his until it was just her breathing melting into his, her legs tangled with his under the sheets. His hand continued its slow, methodical sweep down her back.

A few more minutes passed like that. Typing. Searching. Half-scrolling with no destination.

Then, out of nowhere, Jeonghan softly asked, “Do you wanna go to the TWS concert next Sunday?”

Luna didn’t even open her eyes. Her answer was immediate and easy.

“TWS? Sure.”

Jeonghan looked down at her, a small smirk forming. “That was fast.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve gone to a concert that isn’t ours,” she muttered, voice muffled by his chest. “Plus our juniors are cute.”

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. “That’s true. They do have manners.”

“They bow ninety degrees every time I pass them in the hallway.”

“Wish you’d bow ninety degrees when I pass you in the hallway.”

“Does your back not work?” she teased, eyes still shut. “Bow to yourself.”

He chuckled, low and indulgent. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I’m in bed with you. Of course I’m lucky,” she said smugly, snuggling further into him, her fingers curling lightly over his waist.

Jeonghan leaned down to press a long, lingering kiss to the top of her head.

“Next Sunday,” he murmured again, soft and warm against her scalp. “We’ll go. Like real people.”

Luna’s reply was soft, a little drowsy and fond. “You’ll still hold my hand the whole time?”

Jeonghan’s palm slid up to cradle the back of her head, fingers gently carding through her hair again.

“Whole time, my pretty moon,” he promised. “Even if we get recognized and people think we’re idols on a date.”

“We are idols on a date.”

“Then I guess we better dress the part.”

Luna smiled into his chest. “We always do.”

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other in the silence that only true comfort can bring, until the night slowly gave way to sleep.

The week that followed their late-night conversation settled into a rhythm that was soft and simple— nothing extraordinary to an outside eye, but deeply comforting to the two who lived it.

Jeonghan’s days were now marked by the structured routine of his 9-to-5 public service, waking early each morning, dragging himself into a clean uniform with half-lidded eyes and a groggy smile pressed to Luna’s forehead before he left. His “kiwi hair” as Luna would call it had grown out just a little since the training cut and Luna always smoothed it down for him before he left, half-asleep herself but always mumbling, “Be safe, I love you,” into his collar.

In contrast, Luna had no schedules that week. No shoots, no meetings, no recordings— not yet.

And with Jeonghan gone during the day, she found herself drifting through the house like a slow breeze. She baked banana bread twice, reorganized the spice cabinet once, and spent too long staring at her phone wondering if she had anything important to do.

But what truly kept her entertained was the group chat.

The SEVENTEEN group chat was always active in bursts, especially when a few of them were bored, waiting around on standby, or just itching to annoy each other.

That Thursday afternoon, Luna was curled up on the living room couch in a hoodie and shorts, hair in a messy claw clip, absently scrolling through the messages that had piled up while she’d been in the kitchen debating whether to eat lunch or just drink another coffee.

The conversation was already halfway chaotic.

shi-shi: I just saw someone on the street walking four poodles. FOUR. one had a hat and sunglasses on.

kyeomie: were they hot??

gyu-gyu: ?? the dogs or the person

shi-shi: …yes

joshie: i think he means the dogs

junnie: you’re all single for a reason

shi-shi: …

shi-shi: anyway! what’s everyone doing this weekend?

Luna snorted and typed slowly with one hand, the other holding a spoon of yogurt she wasn’t really eating.

jiyeon: we are going to the TWS concert this sunday 😌

The chat paused for about three seconds. Then…

shi-shi: Whose we?

my angel boy🪽: who’d you think?

shi-shi: that was a stupid question wasn’t it?

cheollie: enjoy! wish I could come with 🥺

joshie: have fun!

gyu-gyu: I wish I could go too :(

hansolie: i have plans sunday too

kyeomie: what plans? 🤔

hansolie: personal

kyeomie: mysterious 😱🤯

hansolie: that’s the point

Then, a notification popped up at the top of Luna’s screen.

kwannie is typing…

kwannie: wait i’m free sunday. i wanna go with!!!

Luna smiled and quickly replied:

jiyeon: then come with, boo!!

Another beat of silence. And then—

my angel boy🪽: i’m pretty sure this was a DATE

my angel boy🪽: you know? a DATE with my WIFE

jiyeon: he’s our son. be nice.

my angel boy🪽: i wanted to hold your hand and be the hot couple in the crowd everyone will be looking at 🥺

my angel boy🪽: but noOOOo it’s a family outing now

jiyeon: Han…

my angel boy🪽: fine but he’s driving us.

kwannie: Great. I feel so welcomed.

jiyeon: he’s joking

kwannie: he better be.

my angel boy🪽: jealousy doesn’t suit you ☺️

kwannie: noona is not your wife yet ☺️

my angel boy🪽: Jiyeon! He is not coming with us.

seen 12:30pm.

Luna giggled softly to herself, her thumb hovering over the keyboard as she stared at the flurry of notifications flying in. She could practically hear Seungkwan’s dramatic sigh and Jeonghan’s giggle.

She tucked her legs under the throw blanket, the fabric slipping down as she shifted and leaned back deeper into the couch, letting herself fully sink into the comfort of the moment.

Luna’s phone buzzed once more, another notification popping in from Jeonghan, separate from the group chat this time.

my angel boy🪽: you sure we can’t ditch him

jiyeon: be nice, baby

my angel boy🪽: only because you called me baby

my angel boy🪽: i still plan on holding your hand the whole time and being the hot couple everyone will be looking at 😎

jiyeon: we’ll be the hot couple everyone will be looking at for the rest of our lives, my love

my angel boy🪽: damn right.

Luna smiled to herself, locking her phone and letting it fall onto her lap. She exhaled, her eyes fluttering shut for a second as she tilted her head toward the window.

Their house was quiet, sun-washed and warm, the soft hum of the world moving around her. Somewhere out there, Jeonghan was probably staring at a spreadsheet wishing he could teleport home.

And soon…

It was finally concert day.

The sunlight that filtered into the bedroom through the gauzy white curtains was soft and golden, lazily slipping through the slats like it, too, had been waiting for this day.

Jeonghan and Luna’s home was unusually quiet, not with silence, but with the kind of low, anticipatory stillness that hung in the air before a big night out.

Their phones had already buzzed a few times— first from Seungkwan texting “I swear if y’all are late”, and then again from their managers, a casual reminder that the van was picking Seungkwan up first at his apartment, then swinging by to collect the royal couple.

At present, the said royal couple were nowhere near ready.

Well, not yet.

They were deep in the trenches of their shared walk-in closet, a space that at some point in their relationship had grown larger than their actual bedroom.

It hadn’t started that way, of course.

Back when they moved in, they had a modest shared closet that was meant to be “intimate” and “practical,” or at least that’s what the realtor called it.

But Jeonghan had more jackets than Luna had patience.

And Luna had more shoes than Jeonghan had tolerance.

It was a quiet war.

One that escalated from silent hanger battles to passive-aggressive laundry folding.

Eventually, the only compromise was expansion.

The result was a sprawling walk-in closet now separated like enemy lines: Jeonghan’s side to the left— cool-toned, coordinated, and full of racks of jackets, pressed shirts, designer pants, a suspicious number of boots, and his beloved collection of watches and rings.

Luna’s side to the right— dramatic, maximalist, overflowing with handbags, boots, stilettos, gold jewelry in velvet boxes, sunglasses displayed like museum pieces, and entire racks organized by vibe, not practicality.

They could share a bed, a bathroom, a kitchen. They could finish each other’s meals. Luna sometimes used Jeonghan’s lotion when she was lazy. They shared skin tints and lip balm and charging cords. Hell, they could even share toothbrushes if they really wanted to.

But the closet?

That was sacred territory.

This morning, they both moved in silence. Not cold silence, just the kind that meant they were focused. Concentrated. Intent.

Jeonghan had already showered, freshly dressed in a black tank top tucked into slouchy, low-slung dark brown pants, dripping in accessories. He looked like he rolled out of bed in slow motion with a wind machine hitting him from every angle.

Behind him, Luna emerged from the bathroom in a towel, tying her hair up in a messy bun with her robe slipping off one shoulder. She passed behind him without a word, heading straight for her side of the closet like it was a mission. She yanked open a drawer with practiced ease and pulled out a pair of black denim shorts.

They weaved around each other like choreography. No bumps. No “excuse me’s.” Just a practiced, seamless rhythm.

Jeonghan glanced over his shoulder as he clipped in his bracelets. “Took you long enough.”

“You always shower first,” Luna muttered, dropping the shorts on her vanity stool and rummaging through a jewelry tray, “and leave the bathroom hot enough to cook ramen in.”

Jeonghan smirked, dragging a ring onto his index finger. “Maybe if you don’t spend twenty years in the shower, I’d let you go first.”

Luna shot him a look in the mirror. “Sorry I like to exfoliate.”

“You mean scroll on your phone to find the ‘perfect shower song’ while pretending to exfoliate?”

She grabbed a necklace and let it drop dramatically around her neck, adjusting it with precision. “You know,” she mused, “for someone who bullies my skincare routine, you sure do steal my serums when you think I’m not looking.”

Jeonghan gave her a lazy smile, leaning against the doorframe between the closet and the bathroom. “And you keep putting them in the same spot. That’s on you, Nana-ya, not me.”

Her back was still to him as she pulled her black leather jacket off a hanger, tossing it on the stool. “Keep talking and I’ll make you drive.”

Jeonghan made a face. “I’m already suffering emotionally. Don’t make me suffer logistically.”

Luna snorted and turned her back to him again, reaching for a makeup bag as Jeonghan finally moved to his side of the closet to retrieve his suede boots. Their backs faced each other once more, both silently fixated on their selections.

The entire room smelled like Jeonghan’s post-shower cologne and Luna’s body wash— woodsy and warm and floral and clean. The kind of scent that felt like it belonged only to them. Jeonghan adjusted his rings in the mirror again, watching Luna in the reflection as she carefully brushed blush onto her cheeks, totally focused.

“Don’t match me,” he said suddenly.

“I’m not matching you,” she replied, not even glancing at him.

“You always say that and then we walk out looking like a K-drama power couple.”

“We are and you love it,” she said flatly, reaching for her lip gloss.

“I really do,” he admitted, slipping on his boots with a grin. “You pickin’ that bag?”

Luna turned and held up her tiny black purse like it was a trophy. “Obviously.”

“It’s practically microscopic, baby.”

“And still holds more emotional depth than you.”

He let out a soft laugh and crossed the room, walking behind her to press a hand lightly to her hip. She was busy applying mascara, leaning in toward her vanity mirror. He leaned in too, voice brushing her ear.

“You look so hot,” he murmured.

“I’m not even dressed yet,” she replied, eyes on her lashes.

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes, but he could see the way her lips tugged upward. He gave her side a quick squeeze and wandered back to his side of the closet, grabbing his black leather jacket from its hook. He slid it on, checked the fit in the mirror, and smirked at himself.

Outside, their manager texted that they’d picked up Seungkwan and would be at their house in fifteen.

Jeonghan read the message and called out casually, “Clock’s ticking, superstar.”

Luna, still in just her robe and jewelry, grabbed her shirts, top, and jacket with regal calm. “Relax. They wouldn’t dare leave without me.”

He grinned, fixing his cuffs. “God, I love you.”

“I know! I love you more though!” she sang, disappearing back into the bathroom to change.

Jeonghan just chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up his phone from his back pocket.

They were almost ready. Almost.

Jeonghan was leaned casually against the edge of Luna’s vanity when she stepped out, one hand resting in the pocket of his dark brown patterned trousers while the other scrolled lazily through his phone.

The room still carried the leftover warmth of their shared morning routine— the soft static hum of the bathroom fan, the muted rustle of expensive fabrics being adjusted one last time. His leather jacket hung off one shoulder like it had been made to do so, the zipper detail glinting under the warm lights, and his black tank underneath was snug against his chest, clean and simple, letting the accessories— rings, cuffs, necklace— carry the drama.

He looked up absently as Luna entered, his eyes catching the movement before settling on her full and once they did, they didn’t move.

Luna walked in with the kind of silent confidence that could silence a room, even one that only had Jeonghan in it.

Her cropped black top clung perfectly to her, high enough to flash the smooth plane of her waist, and the worn black denim shorts, frayed, high-rise, and fitted hugged her hips like a second skin. The oversized leather varsity jacket draped over her shoulders added, the red embroidery on the chest standing out like a threat. Her hair, which she’d blow-dried into soft, voluminous waves earlier, bounced slightly as she walked toward the vanity, standing right in front of Jeonghan without acknowledging his stare.

She fluffed her hair in the mirror with two practiced hands, adjusting the waves just so before reaching for her perfume bottle. One spritz at her collarbone. One at her neck. One at each wrist before she patted them gently together.

Jeonghan hadn’t blinked.

“Really committing to ruining my life today, huh?” he said, voice smooth and a little too quiet.

Luna smirked at his reflection. “You say that every time I wear leather.”

He pushed himself upright with a slow, deliberate stretch and walked toward her, one brow arched. “That’s because every time you wear leather, I start re-evaluating my commitment to public decency.”

She turned around slowly to face him, hands resting on the edge of the vanity behind her, the pose casual but absolutely intentional. “You’re one to talk,” she murmured, flicking a finger against the silver zipper on his jacket. “You look like the lead singer of a band that ruined my life in 2014.”

“I am,” he said without missing a beat. “And we just got back together for a reunion tour.”

Luna giggled softly, stepping in just enough to reach up and toy with his hair. She raked her fingers through his buzzed hair and stared up at him with mock curiosity. “How’s my little kiwi doing today?” she teased, voice syrup-sweet.

Jeonghan leaned in, eyes locked with hers. “Starving,” he murmured.

She tilted her head with a sly smile, released his hair, and stepped away, brushing past him as she grabbed her boots from the entry bench. “Too bad,” she called over her shoulder. “You’re getting Seungkwan for dessert.”

Jeonghan exhaled a soft, amused breath through his nose, lips curled into a smirk as he watched her leave. “Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself, chuckling under his breath before grabbing his phone and following after her.

In the living room, Luna had one foot propped on the ottoman, bending slightly at the waist as she prepared to slide on her first boot. Her jacket lifted just enough to tease the curve of her lower back and bare thighs.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

His eyes didn’t move once as he crouched down beside her, putting on his own heeled suede boots with easy, fluid movements— still watching her from the corner of his gaze.

As Luna shifted to pull up the second boot, Jeonghan rose and stalked toward her, slow and smooth. She barely had time to register the movement before his hands were gently brushing hers aside.

“I got it,” he said, kneeling in front of her like it was a ceremony.

She blinked. “You’re gonna put my boots on for me now?”

“You put a spell on me,” he murmured, not even looking up as he slowly slid the second boot onto her leg, gripping her ankle lightly before guiding the zipper up in one smooth, deliberate pull past her calf, her knee, all the way up her thigh.

And all the while, his eyes never left hers.

Luna’s breath hitched slightly, lips parting as she looked down at him, her hand hovering just near his shoulder.

When the zipper clicked into place, Jeonghan didn’t move his hand away.

Instead, his fingers traced upward along the inside of her thigh, feather-light, almost lazy in how long he took. As he stood, his hand followed the path— slow, teasing until he was eye-level with her mouth and still looking at her like he hadn’t decided yet whether to kiss her or ruin her whole night.

“You sure we can’t ditch him?” he asked, voice low.

Luna raised a brow, lips curving. “You say that like you wouldn’t be ten times worse without a chaperone.”

“Can’t prove it, pretty girl.” he whispered.

She didn’t back down. “Can’t deny it either.”

He smiled, leaned in closer only to suddenly bring his hand down with a playful slap to her backside.

Luna squealed, jolting with wide eyes. “Yoon Jeonghan!”

She smacked his chest with an open palm, half-scandalized, half-laughing. “You’re such a menace.”

Jeonghan just laughed, leaning into her like he might do it again.

And they hadn’t even left the house yet.

Luna brought her hand up between them, her manicured finger pointed sharply at the center of Jeonghan’s face.

“Stop it,” she warned, her tone trying to sound stern, but the soft tug at the corners of her lips betrayed her.

Jeonghan grinned slowly, that maddening, magnetic grin that always started on one side of his mouth before it bloomed fully across his face like trouble. His lashes dipped low as he leaned in, deliberately entering the space she tried to hold between them.

His voice dropped, casual and full of charm.

“Stop what?”

“You know what,” she murmured, even as her smile grew.

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Looking at you?”

Her smile deepened.

“Flirting with me,” she corrected, trying to stay composed, though her voice was already softer now, quieter, like it didn’t want to disturb the moment unfolding.

Jeonghan’s eyes flicked across her face, her eyes, her lips, the curve of her cheek. “I can’t help it, Nana-ya,” he said, voice low. “You look too good.”

Luna scoffed under her breath, but it was barely audible. Her hands brushed her jacket sleeves nervously. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he said, taking another step in. His hands found her waist, his thumbs resting lightly above the waistband of her shorts. “I mean it.”

Luna looked up at him, her teasing gaze flickering into something gentler. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, dipping his head just slightly. “You’re so pretty it hurts sometimes.”

Her breath caught, eyes locking with his as her hands slid around his neck slowly, her fingers brushing the nape, then upward, trailing over the soft buzz of his hair.

“You’re so cheesy, Jeongie,” she murmured, but her smile was all softness now.

“Yeah?” he whispered again, his lips closer this time. So close, she could feel his breath on her mouth.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, voice barely audible now.

His nose grazed hers, and then he kissed her.

It was slow at first— tender, careful, like they were both savoring the moment rather than rushing through it. His mouth moved against hers in a languid rhythm, deliberate and knowing, like he had all the time in the world.

Luna melted into him immediately, her fingers tightening in his hair, her other hand trailing down the back of his neck to his shoulder. His arms wrapped fully around her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush.

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. His hand slid down her back and settled on the curve of her hip, his thumb brushing along the waistband of her shorts in a way that made her breath hitch. Luna pressed closer to him, her body rising slightly on the tips of her toes as their kiss turned more fervent, more possessive, more like a declaration than a greeting.

She sighed against his lips, her fingers combing through his hair, tugging gently on whatever she can grab, making him groan low in his throat, a sound she felt more than heard. His hand wandered again, palm splayed over the side of her thigh, gripping her lightly through the leather of her boot.

Neither of them heard the front door open. Neither of them registered the creak of shoes on the hallway tiles.

Luna had unlocked it earlier anticipating Seungkwan’s arrival, and now—

“OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD—”

Luna practically jumped away from Jeonghan, a scandalized yelp catching in her throat as she turned to see Seungkwan standing frozen in the entryway, hand raised in full drama mode, his eyes already flinching away as he spun around to face the wall like he’d walked in on a crime scene.

Jeonghan didn’t even flinch.

“DIDN’T REALIZE I NEEDED TO KNOCK ON MY OWN FRIENDS’ SOULS BEFORE ENTERING,” Seungkwan shouted toward the wallpaper. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO?!”

Luna slapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Oh my gosh, Kwannie— I forgot I unlocked the door, I’m so sorry—!”

“I trusted you,” Seungkwan said, eyes still firmly trained on a decorative plant in the corner. “I came here for a concert. A concert, not a private viewing of softcore leather-scented PDA. What the hell—”

Jeonghan just shrugged and wiped his thumb across the corner of his lip, unbothered. “You came early.”

“I came ON TIME.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Jeonghan joked casually before smirking at Seungkwan, already reaching for Luna’s hand again.

“Yah!” Seungkwan shouted, finally turning around with an accusatory finger pointed between them. “You’re both sick in the head. I’m starting to regret agreeing to this.”

Luna grimaced apologetically, squeezing Jeonghan’s hand while stepping toward Seungkwan. “I’m sorry, Kwan. Really. You know we love you.”

Jeonghan chimed in without missing a beat, still smirking, “But not as much as we love each other.”

“Get therapy.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “Got it. Group session with you then?”

Seungkwan threw his hands in the air and turned toward the door. “The ride’s outside. I told them I’d drag you both out if I had to. Let’s go before I walk myself to the venue just to escape this emotional damage.”

Luna giggled, brushing her hair behind her ear as she grabbed her bag. “Okay, okay! We’re coming.”

“You were already coming—”

“YAH! BOO SEUNGKWAN!” she shrieked, scandalized, and whacked his arm on the way past.

Jeonghan just cackled as he shut off the lights behind them and locked the door.

And like that, the three of them spilled out into the early evening light, headed toward the van waiting to take them to the TWS concert— one couple blissfully in love, one honorary son severely regretting his life choices.

Soon, they found themselves parked at the underground parking garage of the venue.

Jeonghan, Luna, Seungkwan, and each of their managers stepped out of the van.

They reached a side door marked ARTIST ENTRANCE. Luna adjusted her shades, Jeonghan tugged his face mask slightly higher, and Seungkwan rolled his eyes.

Inside, the hallway hummed with TWS staff.

They were led into a spacious, softly lit waiting room. Plush couches lined the walls; a low table was littered with snacks, bottled water, and bouquets. One by one, the six juniors— Shinyu, Dohoon, Youngjae, Hanjin, Jihoon, and Kyungmin filed in, their energy sparking once they saw Jeonghan, Luna, and Seungkwan.

Shinyu, the leader, stepped forward with a wide grin. “Noona! Hyungs!” he called softly, infusing respect and warmth.

Jeonghan pulled off his mask and smiled. “You guys look amazing. Good luck tonight.”

Dohoon, leaned in. “Hyung, thank you! We’ll do our best. And… thank you for coming.”

Luna chuckled, placing a hand lightly on Jeonghan’s arm. “We came to support… and fangirl.”

Youngjae offered a peace sign. “Please enjoy the show.”

They chatted briefly— Seungkwan added a dramatic, “Don’t mess up,” and TWS laughed, shaking their heads.

The scene was warm and wholesome: seniors giving encouragement, juniors returning respect, with mutual affection in every gesture.

Escorted back into the hallway, the group climbed two levels, passing rows of seats. Their manager whispered seat numbers.

Jeonghan inched closer to Luna’s side. She grabbed his hand, and he covered hers with a warm grip. Seungkwan strode ahead like the responsible elder sibling that he wasn’t.

Once they reached the top tier, they were eased into place. Luna hopped onto her seat, Jeonghan carefully sat beside her, mask and eye glasses on while Seungkwan took the seat on her other side.

Instantly, the audience sensed something, the couple, hand in hand, aura glimmering in monochrome, looked electric.

A teenage girl two rows down pointed and squealed.

“It’s Jeonghan, Luna, and Seungkwan!”

Another fan gasped, pressing record on her phone.

“It’s SEVENTEEN!”

Shouts and whispers spread:

“Jeonghan and Jiyeon look like rockstars! And Seungkwan is so cute!! This is wild.”

“Couple goals!”

It was Jeonghan’s dream come true because not only were they being talked about right that moment in the concert hall but also online where they trended in a mater of minutes.

Multiple Carats have already tweeted:

Already, Jeonghan was living his dream: the “hot mysterious couple” in the crowd whose chemistry was seen. He squeezed Luna’s hand, and she leaned in, whispering, “We’re famous now.”

“Let them stare,” he murmured back with a grin.

All three settled in, ready for the show and the world watching them.

And soon, the concert started.

The stadium lights dimmed and a wave of piercing cheers rippled through the venue, shaking the floor beneath their feet. Jeonghan, Luna, and Seungkwan sat at the top tier, surrounded by fans still gasping and stealing glances at them, but none of that mattered now— not with the stage exploding in vibrant light, the opening VCR for TWS rolling on the massive screen.

Luna leaned forward in her seat, a grin already tugging at her lips. Jeonghan chuckled beside her, arm draped casually over the back of her seat, his fingers lazily brushing against her shoulder.

“There they go,” Seungkwan muttered, already lifting his phone to record, his other hand holding up a small rectangular banner that read TWS in bold neon print. “The babies are performing.”

The crowd screamed louder as TWS burst onto the stage in formation. Confetti blasted into the air and the boys moved in perfect unison, sharp, elegant, glowing with energy.

“Aigo,” Luna murmured under her breath, already lifting her phone to film. She angled it perfectly to get a wide shot of the choreography. “They’re so cute.”

Jeonghan nodded proudly, watching the stage intently. His hand slipped down from her shoulder to rest on her thigh, thumb brushing back and forth against the soft leather of her shorts like it was second nature. “They’re good.” he whispered to her, lips close to her ear.

She turned her head slightly toward him, their faces just inches apart. “You sound like a proud dad.”

“I am,” he said, deadpan, “But a hot one.”

She stifled a laugh, eyes crinkling behind her sunglasses. “You’re… insane.”

The stage lights changed again, this time washing over the crowd in a golden glow. Luna caught the moment on camera, zooming in on Jihoon’s smile as he addressed the crowd between songs. She lowered her phone after a beat, glancing at Jeonghan.

“You think they’re nervous?”

He looked down at her, his hand still warm and steady on her leg. “They’re probably buzzing,” he murmured. “This’ll be their first big crowd that feels like this. It’s different when the cheers hit your bones.”

Luna smiled softly at that, then leaned her head onto his shoulder for a moment, letting herself settle into him. His free hand came up and combed gently through her hair, letting his fingers linger near the nape of her neck.

“I love when you talk like you’ve been through war,” she whispered, teasing.

He kissed the side of her head in response, murmuring against her temple, “I have. Twelve men. One bathroom. You’re too privileged to understand… we spoiled you, Nana-ya.”

That made her snort, and Seungkwan, catching just the end of it, raised a brow.

“What did he say now?”

“Nothing,” Luna grinned, tucking herself a little deeper into Jeonghan’s side.

For the next few songs, they all sank into the concert completely. Jeonghan never moved his hand from her leg except to tap his fingers along to the beat. Luna kept taking videos, cheering, singing under her breath. Seungkwan switched from yelling names to waving his banner, to holding his phone like a proud older sibling livestreaming a graduation.

At one point, the lights flickered low for a slower song, and Luna curled slightly toward Jeonghan, resting her head against his chest as he leaned close to speak.

“You cold?”

“A little.”

He placed him warm hands on top of her thigh and started rubbing up and down to create heat.

“You just wanted to touch me,” she whispered, smiling.

“Say thank you,” he said.

She looked up at him. “Thank you, my angel baby.”

He blinked. “You’re mocking me.”

“I am.”

He grinned anyway, brushing his thumb along her jaw. “Still cute though.”

“I know.”

Seungkwan glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Can you two stop flirting for five minutes? We’re at a concert, not filming a drama.”

Jeonghan didn’t even look at him. “Just say you’re jealous and move on.”

“I’m not— okay, maybe a little,” Seungkwan mumbled, crossing his arms.

Luna leaned over to pat Seungkwan’s arm sympathetically. “You’ll find your own tall, sarcastic menace someday.”

“I am the menace,” Seungkwan grumbled, but took the affection anyway.

The cheers didn’t die down even as the main set wrapped. If anything, the stadium’s energy doubled— fans stomping, clapping, screaming for more, lights flashing wildly from every corner.

Soon enough, the TWS members ran back onto the stage, a little sweaty, flushed, but beaming with joy. The music paused, the lights dimmed, and one by one the boys took turns thanking the fans, bowing low, voices cracking from emotion and effort. And before they continued with the last songs, their leader, Shinyu, stepped forward again, taking the mic.

He grinned wide, the way only a boy standing in the dream of his life could.

“We have a few special guests tonight…” he said, breathless but grinning, “our Jiyeonie noona! Jeonghan hyung and Seungkwan hyung!”

The reaction was instantaneous.

Fans screamed, whipped their heads back toward the top-tier seating, and the stadium cameras immediately cut to them— Jeonghan, Luna, and Seungkwan now projected on the big screen.

The crowd lost it.

Luna blinked, startled for half a second, then laughed, raising her hand to wave shyly at the screen. Jeonghan, already grinning, lifted a hand in a lazy wave. Seungkwan held up his banner proudly in one hand and his phone in the other, making sure to document the absurdity of the moment from both ends.

The fans screamed louder as Jeonghan and Seungkwan raised their arms and mirrored each other, each forming one side of a half-heart above their heads. Luna’s brows lifted in surprise— until Jeonghan tugged her in just slightly, guiding her into the center of the gesture.

“Go on,” he murmured.

With a bashful laugh, Luna lifted her hands and made a small heart with her fingers right in the middle of their frame.

The stadium exploded.

Screams, cheers, squeals. Fans clutched their chests, gasped, shoved their friends in disbelief. The camera lingered on them a few seconds longer, Jeonghan smirking smugly behind his glasses, Luna playfully hiding her face with her hand, and Seungkwan soaking it up like the moment was his birthday.

Back on stage, Shinyu was laughing into the mic. “Thank you for coming! This is crazy!”

“Jiyeonie noona you’re so pretty!” Dohoon chimed in, making the crowd scream again.

Luna covered her face at that, cheeks pink despite the shades.

Jeonghan leaned in and whispered in her ear, voice low and warm. “You’re so pretty.”

“Shut up,” she murmured, laughing.

The other members laughed too, Jihoon adding, “It’s such an honor to have our sunbaenims here. Watching SEVENTEEN’s stages growing up inspired us to work harder.”

The encore kicked back in then. By the time the last note ended and confetti fluttered like snow, Luna had pressed herself just a little more into Jeonghan’s side. His hand found her thigh again, comforting and grounding. Seungkwan was busy filming, literally at the edge of his seat.

The crowd hadn’t even begun to file out yet when one of their managers appeared beside them, signaling with a small nod. Time to leave— before chaos broke loose.

Seungkwan stood first, muttering under his breath. “Alright. Let’s beat the mob.”

He grabbed his phone, stuffed the little banner into his bag, and headed toward the aisle, glancing down at the steps to avoid tripping.

Luna rose next, taking a second to dust off the back of her shorts. Just as she turned to follow Seungkwan, she caught sight of a girl sitting across the aisle, phone up, eyes wide and trembling like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Luna smiled at her, just a soft, genuine curve of her lips and lifted her fingers in a small wave.

The girl squealed audibly, hand flying to her mouth.

Behind her, Jeonghan adjusted his jacket with that signature lazy elegance. As Luna stepped into the aisle, he reached out and placed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her gently forward like he always did, like she was his most valuable thing.

The fans seated nearby stared in awe, not even trying to be discreet. Phones were out, mouths hung open. It wasn’t just the fact they were celebrities, there was something magnetic about them.

Jeonghan’s hand remained warm and steady on Luna’s back as they descended the stairs, following Seungkwan out of the stadium and into the cool night air.

The air outside was cooler than inside the stadium, brushing against their skin like a breath of relief. The night was deep and still save for the muffled echoes of the concert winding down in the distance. Jeonghan, Luna, and Seungkwan walked across the back parking lot toward their waiting van, the sleek black vehicle idling by the curb with their managers ahead, already speaking with staff to coordinate a clean exit.

The three of them moved in that familiar line— Seungkwan just a few paces ahead, grumbling under his breath, Luna beside Jeonghan, their steps slow and matched. His hand hadn’t left the small of her back since they’d left their seats.

Jeonghan tilted his head to the side, voice laced with his usual dry amusement.

“So,” he started casually, “should I tell your manager to pencil you in for our next date night, or are you gonna text me directly this time?”

Seungkwan whipped around to walk backward just so he could glare at him properly. “Excuse me?”

Luna snorted, muffling a laugh behind her hand.

Jeonghan only grinned, unbothered. “I just want to make sure we don’t double-book our child again.”

“You’re genuinely annoying. I don’t understand how noona puts up with you,” Seungkwan said flatly. “I love you both, okay? But never again am I third-wheeling. Never. Again.”

“You had fun,” Luna chimed in teasingly.

“I had third-degree burns from witnessing your PDA,” he deadpanned. “There are things I saw tonight I can’t unsee. Do you know what it’s like to watch two people look at each other with googly eyes while you’re next to them like you’re the prop?”

Jeonghan gave him a smug look. “You’re welcome.”

“I should’ve stayed home and watched the livestream,” Seungkwan muttered dramatically, turning forward again and shaking his head.

Luna laughed fully now, the sound bright under the night sky. Jeonghan looked at her sideways, that unmistakable fondness already creeping into the edges of his grin.

They reached the van, and Seungkwan climbed in first with a dramatic sigh, sprawling across the seat like he’d just survived something traumatic.

Jeonghan opened the door for Luna, waiting until she stepped inside before following and sliding the door shut behind them. The interior was dimly lit, the hum of the engine steady and low as they pulled away from the curb and onto the main road.

Luna leaned back in her seat, finally pulling off her sunglasses and stretching her legs out. Her boots were still on, but she nudged them off with her heels until they thudded gently onto the carpeted floor.

Jeonghan glanced at her, lips quirking. “Feet off the seat.”

“They’re clean,” she murmured, eyes closed now, head resting against the cushioned back.

He didn’t argue. Instead, he reached over, unzipped his jacket, and draped it back over her thighs.

“Rockstar girlfriend, huh?” he said after a pause, voice low and soft now that the show was over and the city lights were sliding by the window.

She cracked one eye open. “Rockstar boyfriend,” she corrected. “You wore sunglasses inside, Jeonghan.”

“And you wore thigh-highs that made a grown man trip on the stairs.”

Luna smirked. “That’s on him. Weak constitution.”

“You looked hot,” he admitted.

She opened both eyes this time, gaze turning toward him, a slow smile forming on her lips. “So did you.”

He hummed. “I know.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I love you,” he said, more gently now.

She blinked, and her smile shifted— softer, warmer, something just for him. “I love you too.”

Luna had shifted to lean more into Jeonghan now, her legs curled up beneath her, his jacket still draped across her lap. Her cheek brushed against his shoulder as she hummed something under her breath. Jeonghan tilted his head to look at her, eyes slow and adoring like he had all the time in the world.

“Stop staring,” she murmured, smiling even though she didn’t move.

“I’m admiring,” he corrected smoothly. “There’s a difference.”

She lifted a brow. “And?”

“And,” he said, brushing a piece of her hair back behind her ear, “you’re really pretty when you’re not trying.”

Luna scrunched her nose, but her smile grew, hidden behind the slow tilt of her head against him. “You’re really annoying when you are trying.”

He grinned. “You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Tragic,” he sighed. “For you.”

They both broke into quiet laughter, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to fill a space entirely. Jeonghan shifted again to wrap an arm around her waist, tugging her just a little closer as he pressed a light kiss to the side of her head.

And across from them, Seungkwan exhaled loudly from his seat with the force of someone who had had enough.

“You two,” he said flatly, not even looking up from his phone, “should be spayed and neutered.”

“What the fuck!” Luna let out a bark of laughter and immediately chucked the jacket on her lap straight at him, hitting him square in the face with a muffled thwump.

“YAH!” he squawked, yanking it off his head. “This smells like both of you. I’m being assaulted on all fronts.”

Still laughing, Luna leaned her head into Jeonghan’s shoulder again. “You started it.”

Seungkwan looked like he was already preparing another dramatic complaint but Jeonghan spoke up first, voice dry and casual without even blinking:

“You’re just jealous cause the only thing holding you tonight is that sad little banner.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Luna’s mouth dropped open before she cracked into an explosive laugh, throwing her head back against the seat as her whole body shook. “YOON JEONGHAN!”

Even Seungkwan who had gone stock still stared at him, slack-jawed. “Did you just—” he blinked, hands thrown up. “What the hell does that even mean?!”

Jeonghan smirked smugly, leaning his head back against the seat as if he hadn’t just delivered the most absurd diss of the night.

“I’m just saying,” he added coolly, “being bitter’s not a personality.”

“You’re going to hell.”

“See you there.”

Luna wheezed with laughter, half-buried against Jeonghan’s side now. “Oh my God, I hate both of you,” she choked out.

And in the dim glow of the van, with Seungkwan pretending not to laugh, Luna still giggling, and Jeonghan wearing the calmest smirk known to man, it was perfectly, chaotically domestic.

Just the way they liked it.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

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[sevgilimsatoru]

Error 410: (Self Aware!AU, Caleb Edition) Part 2

Part: 1 Part: 3 Part:4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 A/N Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader. Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, Stressedout!reader. Hypersexual!reader Trigger warnings: Masturbation, Mentions of slight sexual themes? Disgust in response to said sexual themes? Word Count: 1k

Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog A/N: Hi, first of all, thanks for all the support. I really appreciate each and everyone of you. The only thing that I want to keep constant with my reader or Non!Mc is that she is hypersexual. Hypersexuality: It is referred to as compulsive sexual behavior or sex addiction, It's an intense focus on sexual fantasies, urges or behaviors that can't be controlled.  I wanted my reader to be hypersexual because I feel like this is still a hush topic even in safe spaces for people who are suffering from mental illness. Hypersexuality is often a trauma response from the brain of kids who were groomed, S/Aed or just got the unfiltered internet access at a young age and saw things that they shouldn't. If you don't feel comfortable with reading it, it's alright. You can just scroll past that part and I will make sure it's not too long or too frequent but it will be present. Hope you enjoy!!

"The best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he's in prison" "-Fyodor Dostoevsky"

Silence, finally. Sweet, calm silence. You never knew how much you appreciate silence until the screeching loudness of your alarm blared throughout the room.

God.., when did you even set an alarm? You were sure you had made to turn off all your alarms a few days ago. Ugh.. You slowly opened your eyes. Wanting to stop that annoying noise and sleep a little more.

But the dryness in your mouth was probably a good reminder to wake up and drink some water. You really didn't need the hassle of going to a doctor because of dehydration. Your hand reaching out to pick up your phone and shutting the damn alarm off. The noise you let out when you finally got off the bed was between a whine and a groan. Rubbing your eyes, you walked inside the kitchen. Pouring yourself a glass of water. You took a sip- the cold liquid flowing in your mouth and down your parched throat. Quickly finishing the glass of water, pouring yourself one more. The liquid dripped down your chin with how quickly you were drinking it. Like a man dying of thirst in the middle of a desert. You panted slightly, pulling a glass away from your lips, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Wow, that felt so much better.. Your mom would taunt you to death if she saw you like this. Maybe you should start taking care of yourself.. But first, you should make some breakfast- now that you thought about it.., did you have dinner last night? Opening your fridge, you were greeted with a sad sight, there was almost nothing inside except a few slices of bread, two eggs and a few vegetables along with a little more than half a carton of milk.

That was more than enough for you to feed yourself today- maybe you should ask your parents for money, stock up the fridge. Yeah, maybe.. they had insisted to pay for your expenses even after it had been a struggle to convince them that you could live on your own. Taking out the eggs and vegetables, you placed them on the kitchen counter. Running the tap water to wash the vegetables. "I can make an omelet, it'll be quick an easy," You thought, letting out a small hum. It did get lonely living alone.. Closing the tap of water, you walked over to your room, picking up your phone and unlocking it. "Omelet.. omelet.. hmm" You muttered, scrolling through your phone, opening youtube. One of the first few videos you saw was an omelet tutorial. Wow. Isn't that awfully convenient? Oh well, doesn't matter. It didn't take long for you to make the omelet, it was actually pretty good. Much better than any omelet you've made before. You still had to shower, clean up your apartment, clean the dishes, do the laundry. That was a lot of work but well, you can do all that.. slowly.

Time passed and before you knew it, it was afternoon. With a sigh, you laid down in your bed. All that work was unsurprisingly exhausting. But you had actually gotten things done, isn't that great? You deserved a pat on the back.

You scrolled through your phone- tumblr, reddit, youtube.. but there was nothing new, nothing interesting. You felt bored.., you felt empty. One of your hands slipping in between your thighs, tapping against the fabric of your sweatpants. The urge had been there all day to just.. feel good. You really didn't feel like doing it.., you had just showered, changed your clothes, done laundry. But it would feel so good..

You shouldn't..

It would feel amazing though. And that rush of dopamine would feel so great. But.. It'll be quick.. just once? You'll stop after one orgasm. Yeah, just once. Sure.. just once- it always started with just once. You couldn't help the disgust blooming in your stomach as you shoved your stained sheets and sweatpants in the washing machine.

This was gross and so were you. The high felt good.., it felt so so good. But when it was over- the feeling of nausea and disgust was enough to make you feel repulsive.

Getting yourself off wasn't a bad thing.. once, twice even three times a day wasn't bad but fuck, when you started you couldn't just stop. What the hell was wrong with you? What sort of guy would ever like a girl like you? ..Why did that even matter, who cares what sort of guy would like you. You were really loosing your mind, it was just a matter of time before you cracked, you were sure.

You sniffled, blinking away the tears that were starting to form. No. You were not going to cry over this. You wanted to do something else, anything else to stop this train of thought. Picking up your phone, you opened Love and Deepspace.

Running back to him, just like a dog. You always did run back to him for comfort ever since you first saw Caleb after installing this game. Replaying the few and far scenes he had when he first appeared in the game. Who cares what sort of guy would like you? Caleb would.. he'd like you- no matter how you were, right? He'd adore you like he adored the MC right? Yeah, like it mattered how a fictional character made of pixels in a otome game thought of you. As if it mattered more than how actual people did. You really were insane. But does that matter, if he loves you? When the game finally loaded up, Caleb looked different. Worried.. That frown on his face which you found so adorable, his eyebrows scrunched together as he stared at you. As if he cared..

"Why are you looking at me like that, Caleb?" You said, talking to yourself in your empty room, not being able to help the smile that graced your face when you saw him. But it wasn't as bright as usual.., rather tired. "I worry about you, you know..?" Caleb said with a sigh, looking at you with a hand on his hips. His words felt like he was replying back to you. Was that a new line? You didn't see anything about a new update.. How strange but you really had no complaints. Caleb walked closer to the screen, reaching his hand out like every other time when he patted the MC's head. And like a fool, you almost leaned your head forward. Like you could actually feel his touch, his warmth. Oh, the things you'd do for him to be real..

You smiled at his concern, your eyes glued to the screen, running over his worried face. "I'll be fine, pretty boy" You muttered, as if he could hear you.

I'll be fine.., as long as you are with me. Tag list: @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @aneertawrites @etsuniiru @demon-master-zero @angstylittleb1tch @mcdepressed290 @ittybittyfanblog @winwinwrites @alifyairl @huhleighna @calebsbeanpeeler @bookworrm1999

[bvlgum]

୨୧ GETTING SHIPPED WITH ANOTHER IDOL

𓇼ㅤ 𓈒ㅤ 삶 ㅤ───ㅤ "   WARNINGS; “ fluff, jealousy, mention of other idols, fem!reader (idk), established relationship,

Making use of my millions of accounts lol, I honestly forgot this account existed but now I’m here :P

MANON

Girly was trying to control her temper the moment a ship edit popped up on her fyp. She opened the comment and typed out. “They’re not together y’all!! They’re probably just friends, who you should be suspecting is manon and yn. I mean don’t they look so cute together?” A sly smirk crept up to her face as she felt proud of herself for typing that on her secret account. More pride shook her when more manyn edits began to pop up.

SOPHIA

Was probably trying her best to seem nonchalant and easy about it the moment a video pops up on her fyp but the her sulky expressions says it all. “Hey yn since when did this happen?” She called out for you rushing to meet you in the kitchen. “Huh what’s that?” You asked trying to get a glimpse of what she was showing on her phone. “Oh ah! It’s my most recent photoshoot why?” You asked trying to stifle in your laughter from looking at her face. “Well I don’t like it! Now people think you and wonyoung have something together” she whined. “Don’t worry baby, it’s just a photoshoot, if you want I could beg my manger to fix one with you soon?” “Omg yes yes yes, I’d love that” her silky expressions immediately vanished and was now replaced with a more cheerful one.

DANIELA

They look so good together “Hmm what an odd thing to say” Daniela watched with a frown as fan gushed about because of the minimum amount of interaction between you and newjeans minji. Meanwhile the both of you are practically flirting on camera and no one seemed to bait an eye. “Do you like her?” Daniela randomly asked out of the blue. “Umm no, she’s just a friend of mine” you answered shrugging off her possessive glare. “Okay that’s nice, don’t let it exceed friendship or else….” She paused with a playful threatening gaze.

LARA

Lara sat on the rolling chair, reading some Wattpad stories like fans had suggested when suddenly a story title caught her eye. She clicked on it and read the title with a straight face. “Y’all whoever wrote this title alone needs to arrive at the asylum right now” she spoke, her lips forming into a think line after. It was like her gaze was solely focused on whatever was on the screen. “I’m gonna report this” she said with a frown. Fans would guess that “oh maybe it was something inappropriate” but in reality it was a ship book of you and a male Kpop idol.

MEGAN

Megan was trying to hold her fake smile the more a fan gushed about how you and lesserafim eunchae would match together. The fan talked about how there was a certain chemistry between you two. Megan had heard enough and decided to cut the convo short. “Do you know who she looks amazing with?” Megan asked a fake glint of excitement in her eyes. “Who?!” The fan asked also feeling a thrill of excitement. “Me”. The fan squealed “oh ye— what?”

YOONCHAE

It all started when she woke up to check her social media and the first thing that pops up was a ship edit of you and newjeans haerin, with the editor adding a soft love song which didn’t help at all. The fans comments even made it worse with comments like; my haeyn 🥹, gosh how much I love seeing them interact on stage it’s so cute. The urge to reply and say “you’re just being delusional she’s with me!!”. Throughout the day you noticed yoonchae acting all sulky and pouty which lead you to confront her about what had happened.

[muntitled]

omg hi pookie bear , hru ?

i’m going feral and have a request <\3 hmm what if anton hasn’t seen his gf in a few months because she stays in the states . they usually make sure to call and check in with each other every night but maybe for the last few days she hasn’t been responding too much but only because she’s flying to go surprise him ! so basically a bit of angst then fluff at the end loll (and a little smut if ur up to it 🤓👆🏾) .

also, can i be 🎀 anon ?!

Of course, my darling! Thank you for the lovely request, I literally had so much fun writing this omg.

𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 | 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐞

- Pairings: Anton Lee x Fem!Reader

- Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Codependency, Angst, Jealousy, Relationship Paranoia, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Spitting, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Unprotected Sex, Needy Sex

He wouldn't call himself obsessive.

That's not the correct word. Infatuation would probably best explain the tempest of emotions rattling through his brain when his phone rings, signaling a video call from you.

Sungchan's chest rises and falls with the extremities of their evening workout. He barely keeps himself toppling over when he and the rest of the group watch Anton lumber to his bag in large, quick steps

"Yo?" Sohee asks, anatomically defeated as he races to catch his breath.

"Carry on, without me," Anton throws over his hunched shoulder. He is cupping his phone with both hands when he enters one of the many bathrooms peppered throughout the gym, letting his feet guide him almost robotically into a stall while his finger swipes to answer the video call. At the sight of your relaxed smile, Anton exhales lightly.

He knew it's particularly bad to form dependant relationships, but he couldn't exactly help himself, can he? Your voice is just so light when you say, "Hi," and his is equally shy as he replies with his quiet "Hi yourself."

Anton can not help himself from being so incredibly infatuated. He's diving headfirst into codependency, but hey, at least he is aware.

At least he is aware that he would do quite literally anything for the girl in trapped in his phone, and you would do the same for him, therefore it is of no surprise at all when he airly says, "You're so pretty,"

His voice is barely above a whisper and his eyes are bright as he buries the lower half of his face in the comforting fleece of his black sweater. "Really pretty,"

An airy sort of chuckle escapes the confines of your lips, and Anton's pulse begins to race as he takes note of your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. "Anton, did you hear anything I just said?" If it weren't for the slight hesitation that pollutes the sound of your beautiful voice, Anton would've gladly kept staring at your lips. But his heart sinks imperceptibly as he gazes back at you apprehensively.

"Uh- no," he says, "I was too busy thinking about how excited I am for you to get here." The panic only begins to set when your smile wavers.

"Oh... about that-"

"No," he whispers, "Please don't do that-"

"My boss hasn't exactly cleared me for a vacation day-"

Anton is livid, but his voice remains stable. "We have spoken about this for 2 months!"

"You know how my boss can be," you reply, "He hasn't given me off, Anton. I have no one to cover my shift, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, as the dreaded guilt begins to trickle into your voice. Anton's eyes narrow, and he brings his phone closer. Temporarily ignoring his whirlwind of negative emotions, Anton instead skeptically asks, "Where are you?" That doesn't look like your bathroom."

Anton's heart only sinks lower into the pit of his stomach when he notices a quick hint of alarm flash through your eyes before you're pulling the camera back into a more intimate aspect ratio as you prattle on. "Yeah, I just decided to head to the movies to make myself feel better. Maybe you should do the same," your voice is tight and layered with anxiety as if you were... lying to him.

Anton cannot imagine why you would want to do that, least of all to him. He knew when you lied because you both did it together. On myriad occasions.

He made you call up your part-time job on multiple occasions, rubbing smoothe, encouraging circles on your belly while you feigned an illness just to spend more time with him.

In high school, you had both lied to each of your parents about 'studying together' when in actual fact, those 4 had been excuses to make out messily in your sheets. Exploring confusing emotions until a simmering heat flowed through the both of you while Anton's large hands began to pet over new, various spots on your body.

He had never been on the receiving end of your dishonesty, not even since he left the country. But here you are, evading eye contact, stuttering over your words and lying...

to him.

"How's the team workout been, big boy?" He notices with grave finality how quick you are to not only change the subject, but to weaponize a nickname that you knew would have him melting for you.

Is this what you have both become?

Was he seriously being manipulated?

Was he...

Perhaps...

Being cheated on?

The thought sent a wave of nausea threatening to spill out of his badly pursed lips, and perhaps you realize, from years of studying Anton's non verbal expressions, that he was thinking of something very grave and very bad.

"Hey, didn't you say you only had five minutes?" Your voice is like the tingling goosebumps left in the wake of your nails raking across his skin and he shivers slightly.

"Yeah," his voice, although characteristically quiet, is guarded and you frown, perhaps noticing that you have a lot of making up to do.

Anton suddenly, quite literally out of the blue, asks, "Remember when you said you went bra shopping the other day?

"Yeah?" You ask, completely oblivious to the darkened thoughts polluting your boyfriend's mind. You watch his eyes tare into yours as he monotonously asks.

"Are you wearing any of the new ones right now?"

"Anton, aren't you in the middle of-"

He immediately cuts in, voice impatient and snide, "They can carry on without me, it's fine."

It was petulant, but Anton needed to know you still belonged to him. He needed to know that high school wasn't some sick fever dream you could just swiftly move past as if it meant nothing. He needed to know that.

"Can I see?"

You curtly comply, and you look around before pushing yourself further into the stall. You both found yourselves on opposite end of a cellular line, both silent with the weight of your attraction to one another, keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

"Please?" He asks, in an airy voice, "for me?"

Anton knew from the strike of guilt in his chest that it was not a morally correct thing to do, but what else was there?

You would be away from him, indefinitely. He would have to spend another evening, another week, another month without your body to hold onto. Not to mention, the jealousy at this new hypothetical boyfriend still hung heavily on his shoulders.

Besides, Anton's guilt completely disappeared when you begrudgingly pulled the string of your halter neck down until the material was falling flmisily down your torso, exposing your chest to him. Anton released a wobbly breath while his hand almost immediately went to cover the bulge, forming in his oversized pants. "Oh god," he whispered.

It was so remarkably mesmerising watching your boyfriend slips so easily into desire. You knew he was angry and that made this part of the mission remarkably uncomfortable, but instead, you choose to focus on Anton's lumbering breathing through the screen of your phone. His large eyes hooded and locked onto your breasts, still very much covered by your white lace bra.

Although he cannot see anything besides cleavage, Anton reckons he could cum just from this. That's how bad he needs you, that's how bad he yearns for your soft, grounding presence to be near him.

But your phone chimes. And just as Anton's jaw locks, you exclaim, "Babe, I have to go-"

"What?" The frown on his face is astounding, but you're already propping your phone up to pull up the strings of your dress.

His protests fall on deaf ears.

You could not very well tell him that you have already touched down in Korea. You couldn't tell him the unrecognizable bathroom stall was a sterile cubicle in the international airport. You couldn't tell him that you were closer than he thought.

"My movie is gonna start soon,"

His shoulders visibly deflate and your heart pounds faster in your chest.

"Skip it,"

"I'll call later okay?"

"Skip the movie."

"I love you,"

When you abruptly ended the call, Anton stared at his screen until the dimness turned to black, with only one question permeating through his restless mind.

'Do you?'

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"You say you hear me," Sohee's voice reaches the rafters as the group of boys leave the gym. "You hear me, but do you feel me?"

"Gross," Anton mumbles, leaving Sohee behind.

"It's a simple question," The older boy continues, "at what point does water become soup?"

"When any reasonable amount of seasoning is added," pipes up Shotaro, adjusting the straps of his work out bag along his shoulder.

"Don't encourage him," Eunseok grumbles as they all walk out into the cool night air.

Anton's gaze is still lowered to the floor, but his breath stutters momentarily at the sudden rush of the open air.

"So salt water can be considered soup?" Sohee scoffs, "That's what you're telling me right now?" The group groans in unison, all beginning to walk like a hive mind to the nearest restaurant. All except Anton, who is quieter than usual, whose only plans for the evening consist of wallowing in self-pity.

"Hey, um, I'm just gonna go home," he says, causing the group of boys to stop in their tracks. Anton evade their curious, worried gazes.

"Not when you look like you're about kill yourself-" Shotaro says, attempting to step closer to Anton, but only frowning when the youngest takes a step back.

"That's okay," he attempts to reassure his friends, "There's a beat thats been..." Anton does vague hand gestures to the side of his head, "I wanna go work,"

He was already walking away, head bowed, and headphones pushed over his head, walking into the night before his friends could even get a word in...

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

He could not describe his feelings as Jealousy. That somehow felt like to tame a word to describe the flurry of emotions hanging so heavily on Anton's face as he pushes the password into the door's keypad, before kicking his shoes off at the door.

Anger was certainly a part of it. The large monolith of emotions threating to burst right through him. He felt unpleasantly overstimulated, even in the silence of the apartment. He felt like anything and everything was threatening to have him burst at the seams, his emotions running along the rim of his usually calm and collected state of mind, ready to spill over and make a dreaded mess everywhere.

Anton's only plans for the night had been to lock himself in his dorm room, perhaps crying, perhaps screaming, perhaps knocking himself out for a couple hours with his prescription sleeping pills. Anything to make this horrific strain on his heart disappeared.

The baggy clothes he is accustomed to wearing somehow appear bigger and sloppier as he lumbers his way deeper into the apartment, heart sinking the more steps he takes.

"Oh look,"

Cold, piercing phantom pain zings through his heart, kickstarting every dormant sleepy cell in his body.

"A dinosaur,"

Anton thinks that he couldn't even move if he wanted to. His socks are glued to the threshold, watching you, or perhaps an apparition of you, laying lazily on his bed.

His bed.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, and you watch with furrowed brows as Anton brings his two hands up to his face. You immediately push yourself off the bed when he begins to slap lightly at his cheeks, whispering incoherently about asylums and potentially getting a contact high.

His cheeks are already bright red when you stumble your way in front of him.

“Woah, Big boy,” your hands are on his wrist, effectively stopping Anton from reddening the skin any further.

He can feel you. He can feel the softness of your palms struggling to enclose around his large wrists.

“This is real,” he whispers, watching with wide, doe eyes as a smirk curls at the end of your lips. Before you can reply in whatever witty or snarky remark you had cooked up, Anton was already bending his head until his lips were crashing down to yours.

He very surprisingly, very uncharacteristically pours his strength into the kiss until you were stumbling back rather clumsily into his room.

Anton crumbles into a flurry moans and groans as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, melting into a whimpering puddle when your tongue brushes against his. “B-But when?” he breathes out before reattaching his lips to yours, letting his hands roam unabashedly over every part of your body it can find.

The infuriating need to breathe causes him to pull apart from you once again, but he never strays too far. Anton’s fingers dig into your sides until he's pulling your dress over your head. He wishes to capture every single inch of your exposed body to memory. The way you look up at him with a light, relieved smile curling at the sides of your puffy, red lips.

You're so much shorter than him, and it sends his brain into a mindless, state of lust. He loves how big he feels when you two are together, in the flesh with no digital box separating the two of you.

“H-How?” He breathes out, noting immediate that you are in the same white lace bra from your earlier phone call.

There is a cheeky smile on your face when you pull his oversized shirt over his head, all while he stares you down as if you hung the moon.

“I always keep my promises, Ant,”

His body betrays him with a rough shiver and he groans as you push him onto his bed, discarding his shirt behind you. As you prowl your way on top of him, Ant throws his head back into the sheets, nearly hyperventilating at the sight of you straddling his hips. You lift your torso, immediately discarding your bra, and Anton’s hand flies to cup your breasts. This, he immediately decides, is what heaven looks like.

“Fuck, you're so fucking pretty, you know that?” Anton rarely ever swore, so to hear the crass words coated in his airy, breathless voice is enough to have you moaning into the air, arching your back as you push his face into your chest while you press your core down onto his irresistible bulge.

“Oh God, Anton.”

“Missed you so much,’ he whines, before enclosing his mouth around your nipple, almost instinctively pushing his hips up to meet your desperate grinding. You were quite literally humping like maddened adolescents brimming with too many hormones to know what to do with.

When Anton feels his cock twitching in his pants, he immediately pulls away.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “I need to be inside of you,” he admits gravely, already getting up to switch places until you were underneath his large and lumbering frame, “I don't think I'll last long,” Another grave admittance. He pushes his hand into his sweatpants, and you watch, mesmerized as he reveals his large, aching cock absolutely leaking precum.

“I'm definitely not gonna last long,” you reassure before eagerly opening your restless legs, “We're gonna cum together, yeah?” Anton squeezes his eyes shut before squeezing the base of his twitching dick. All while you slip your own underwear down.

“Yeah,” he agreed before positioning his cock at your weeping enterance.

You both watch mesmerized as his cock begins to stretch the tight walls of your soaked cunt. The stretch, immediately causing a whimper to slip out of your mouth as you throw your head back into the pillows. You're clenching around him, while Anton coaxes himself into you with shallow thrusts. The rutting being just enough to spill a wave of pleasure over the both of you. He watches you moan with wide, pained eyes.

“I know, baby-” He whisper, “You're doing so good for me, you know that?”

“Fuck, you're so big,” is all you're able to say, effectively causing his hips to stutter.

“F-Fuck I'm not gonna last long-”

Instead of repeating your response, you bring your hips up to meet Anton's thrusts effectively, taking him deeper and deeper until he was fucking you with little to no restraint.

“Oh God,” you whisper, as Anton clumsily brings a hand up to squeeze and pinch at your nipples. Not even a minute later and you're both sitting in the crest of your respective orgasms, looking deep into each other's eyes as if you were communicating that fact. Anton nods, completely dazed.

“Close,” he whimpers, “I'm so fucking close,”

Anton bends his head, spitting directly onto your clit. The sight has your hips stuttering, as the first signs of your orgasm warms your lower abdomen.

“F-Fuck, Ant- I'm-”

The moment his hand travels to rub dizzying wet circles on your clit, you crash into your orgasm.

“Oh fuck- oh fuck-” He fights to keep his eyes open but your squeezing him so hard and Anton can't help but cum directly inside of you. Both your lips are hanging open as your boyfriend attempts to fuck every last drop of his seed into you. You're both releasing months worth of frustration.

The frustration of not being near one another. Of relying on a device to keep your relationship afloat. It all comes crashing down until Anton's is thoughtlessly collapsing on top of you - the weight of a giant landing your front, with his hand playing lazily, wiyh your breasts as you both fight to catch your breathe.

Despite the obvious discomfort, the very last thing you think of doing is pushing him away. Instead, you cradle him closer, raking your fingers into his hair while his eyes flutter shut.

All is quiet, and you vaguely believe Anton may have fallen asleep, but his voice is wide awake as he says, “I thought you were cheating on me.”

You remain quiet, hoping the soft petting on his wild curls was reply enough.

“I'm never letting you go back, okay?”

Your eyes are heavy as you continue to smooothe down his hair, and you whisper, “Okay”.

♡♡♡

[ggukslov]

Honey kiss 💋

୨୧ Pairing : bfjungkook x gfReader

୨୧ Genere : smut

୨୧ word count : 2k+

Warning : alcohol consumption, oral (f! receiving), eating out, jealous sex, handcuffs, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, penetrative sex, hickeys, (jk is jealous, protective and possessive af), pet names ( alot cuz I love them, hehe), spanking, aftercare, jk likes to be called daddy, soft jk in the end

Note : this is my first ever time writing smut and something here on Tumblr, I'm shy, and feeling uhm maybe a little shameful after writing this, though I hope you like it, and yes- English isn't my first language so bear if you see any grammatical mistakes. <33

____________________________________________

"Want another glass, honey?" Jungkook asks sipping on his wine.

You are lucky to have a boyfriend like him, always sweet and caring, but when angry, can easily take you to heaven. He's a sex god. No one can ever please you the way he does.

Out of this world.

"Sure" you nods your head, bringing your glass closer to him so he can pour you another glass of wine, so sweet of him to surprise you with candle light dinner when you got home after your hectic day at work. As he pours you another glass, you see his facial expressions change into a slight smirk.

You already had three glass and you started to feel tipsy, "You sure, you can handle another glass? Your face is already red." He caresses your cheek, pulls your chair closer to his. "Mhmm" you nods, reassuring him that you can handle another glass. He chuckles slightly at your short response, looking at you as you eat your pasta.

He gives the glass back to you and you sips on it. Gulping down more wine in your system you start to feel more tipsy. That's when you feel jungkook hand slipping under your dress as he caresses your thigh drawing small patterns. Waiting for your response as looking at your drunk state.

"Baby, do you want to say something?" He asks as if he can read your mind, still drawing small patterns on your thigh. You feel his hand started to get a little firm with each stroke. You finish your glass and put it on the table, so does jungkook. He finishes his pasta, waiting for you to finish yours too. Gliding his hand up and up. "Hmm?" He asks again.

"No kook." You says as you finish your pasta too. Your head started to feel lighter, the alcohol kicking in, jungkook hand firmly grabbing your thigh. "liar! I heard what happened today at your office." You feel him gritting his teeth slowly as he started to draw circles on your inner thigh.

You know what's coming for you.

You stay silent, waiting for him to say something as the heat between your legs starting to grow. "What happened? Why all silent now huh!? Would you like to tell me by yourself or should I do it for you?" He speaks, his voice sounding angry. "Jungkook. I- that wasn't my fault.  He was trying to get closer to me but believe me I push him away." You looks up at him, seeing his jaw clenching.

It wasn't your fault. You just went to your office terrace to get some air when you feel someone's coming towards you from behind, slowly snaking his hands on your waist. You turn around to meet taehyung. The man who has a crush on you. He tried to impress you so many times but today it was too much. You rejected him saying that you have a boyfriend and you don't need him to invade your privacy and want to have some distance with him.

"Yeah? Jimin sent me a video of you and him, on terrace. How dare he touched you like that! And why were you rejecting him that calmly? Why didn't you slap him, huh?" Jimin his best friend who works in the same company as you, sure jungkook tells him to keep an eye on you and to make sure that you are taking care of yourself.

"Jungkook, i rejected him. And how I'm able to slap someone at work?" You speak back, proving your point. "watch your mouth, that's not how you talk to your daddy, hm?" He says firmly. The alcohol making you lightheaded. You want to prove that you are innocent and it's isn't your fault at all.

You slightly removes his hand from your thigh. "It wasn't my fault at all, stop blaming me, and you told jimin to keep an eye on me, right? Don't you trust me?" You see his eyes getting dark with each of your word.

He put his hand back on your thigh, this time more firmly. "You know I don't like when someone else gets close to you, and yeah jimin is keeping an eye on you because I need to take care of you." You hears sincerety in his voice, he still looks jealous, he's is protective of you. He doesn't like when any other man looks at you inappropriately.

"And for the way how you speak to me, i should punish you." He stands up from the dining table and you look up at him, your vision slightly blurry of the alcohol. Your skin feeling hot. "Get on the couch, on all fours." He orders as he takes the dishes to the sink.

"But-"

"No buts." He cuts you off, you don't have another choice, besides you are also feeling kinda horny from all the teasing he did.

You walk to the couch, looking at him as he went into his bedroom.

You get on the couch, as he walks back into the living room, with a pair of handcuffs. "Get on all fours, right now." You obeys him and get on your fours, ass facing him. He bends down to your level and lock your hands with handcuffs.

"Now, be a good girl and do as daddy says, got it" you nods. He opens the zip of your dress, sliding down the dress and throwing it on the floor. Leaving you only in your panties.

You got a slap on your ass, which makes you squirm, the burning sensation stays there but he soon kisses the spot where he spanks you. Soon another spank came, makes you shudders. "Keep still." Another spank.

You buried your head into the cushion, the another spank came, and your knees gives up, jungkook helds your waist and kisses on the red handprint. "Good girl. You are doing good." You muffles in the pillow. His kisses sending shivers down your spine.

"Already wet for daddy, huh! Gonna treat you good, gonna mark you up so everyone can see who you belongs to."

Without any warning he slides one finger into your hole making you moan.

He keeps his finger still making you whine, you want some friction so you slightly grind on his finger. But he holds you in place. "Patience honey, did I tell you to ride my fingers, huh?" He slides another finger, stretching you.

"Please jungkook." You speaks lowly face still buried in the pillow as you want him to move. "Please what babe? Hm? Please what? Use your words, open that dirty mouth of yours and tell me what you want me to do." He isn't moving at all, his fingers still in your hole.

You had enough, it's all making you frustrated. You grind on his fingers once again just to get an another spank. "I said, use your words." He speaks firmly.

"P-please- move your fingers, please I want it." As soon as you beg him to give you some relief, he slowly moves his finger in and out of your glistened hole, making you arch your back, another hand grabbing your waist to make you stay still.

"See, it's easy when you use that mouth of yours, you just have to say, and I'll give you everything you want. But-" the pace increases, his hand moving harder, making you buried your head deep into the pillow, the pleasure is making you so good that you don't even know where are you. "Stay away from other men, you are mine, mine to please, mine to fuck, mine to use the way I want. You are mine, my little angel. Right? You are daddy's little good girl, huh?" The pace only increasing. With each word, getting harder and harder leaving you breathless.

You nods, feeling the knot in your stomach getting tighter with each pump.

"Say that you are mine. Speak louder." His thumb starts tracing your folds, taking you close to your climax.

"Mhm, I'm yours, only yours-" you feel more close to your climax, wanting to cum. "Yeh? Wanna cum?" His thumb rubs your clit. You nods. "Say please, say, use your magical words honey, and I'll let you."

"P-please- daddy- please let me cum, I'll be your good girl, please let me cum."

"Hm! Cum on my fingers, honey." And as he gives you permission, you come undone on his fingers, breathing heavily. He keeps his finger inside, you whine feeling overstimulated. Tries to push his hand away off you. "Uhh- plea-" he pops his fingers out of your hole. Cum dripping on your thigh, his hand coming to your mouth.

"Lick your sweet honey off. Clean my fingers." You obeys and suck on his fingers tasting yourself. "Good girl, you are so good for daddy." You lays on your stomach, he takes out his finger from your mouth and licks off your saliva.

"Already tired? I'm not done yet." Strokes your hair, "you look so good, laying for me like this, breathing heavily. Waiting for me to give you permission so that you can cum. So good, you are too good for me." He kisses your forehead, removes his shirt. You looks up at him lazily, all the alcohol making you thirsty for him.

As soon as his abs are on display, your mouth drools. "Please daddy, please remove these handcuffs, I wanna touch you so bad." You sits up.

He shakes his head, "remember, it's your punishment? You don't have permission to touch me yet." As he removes his pants, leaving himself in his boxers, your eyes went to his hard cock, so prominent, begging for attention.

"Please-"

"No." He gets on top of you, "just lay back down and let me punish you" you lay back on your back, looking at him. He gets on his knees, trailing kisses from your neck to down to your stomach until he stops at where the hem of your underwear is.

He looks in your eyes and smirk, slowly removing your soaked panties from your slick, throwing them on the floor as well. He kiss on your soft bud, and you moan grabbing his hair, eyes closed.

He gives a long lick to your soft bud making your grip tighter on his hairs, grabbing your waist with both hands, he slowly sucks on your clit making you clench on nothing. Licking you whole, his tongue gets in the contact of your sensitive entrance, "you smell so sweet, taste so good uhh-" he groaned, head between your legs as he sucks on yours entrance.

Before you can say anything, his tongue pokes your hole, as he eats you whole, doing his magic to your pussy, making you clench on his tongue, sucking, licking, eating.

You soon feel another wave of pleasure taking you close to your second climax, your hand in his hair tighten. But before you can cum, he removes his mouth from your hole, giving you a smirk, as you whine. "Want to cum again huh?" He removes his boxers, freeing his hard cock. Grabbing and pumping it one or two times, precum already dripping down, you nods desperately.

"Hm? Then-" spreading your legs wider, he pushes his cock inside you, making you moan loudly. "Oh jungkook-"

"Yes baby? Do you like this cock, liking how it taking you to the edge? Wanna cum on daddy's cock?" He thrust back and forth, deeper and harder. You moan loudly as he kisses on your neck, your sensitive breasts and collarbone, getting on your sensitive spot as he sucks hardly, making you shiver in pleasure. You nods again. "Mhm, please. I wanna cum-" the knot getting tighter again.

He fastens his pace as sucks on your neck, leaving dark red hickey on your neck. Whispers in your ear "yeah? Wait till I say so. Got it?" You whine, his pace only increasing, making you clench tight.

"Oh baby, you are tight, i preped you enough but you are still so tight, loving daddy's cock?" You nods desperately. "Yeah- so good. Please let me cum-"

"What did I say? You ain't allowed to cum, wait till I give you permission to cum." It's too much pleasure for you, you can't take it anymore. His animalistic pace only making difficult for you to not cum.

You can't hold it back anymore and you cum without his permission, getting another spank on your ass. "Brat!! I told you to hold it." His movements getting sloppier as he's chasing his own high. Your breathing getting heavier and heavier as you feel another climax.

You whine loudly. "Ah- st-stop, I can't-"

"You can, just 5 more minutes, i know you can, you are my baby, listen to what daddy's saying." He kisses you intensely to making you relax.

He grunts in your mouth as his movements getting sloppier and sloppier with each push, soon he cums inside you, filling you up to the brim, and you cum once again.

A tear fell down your cheeks, he breaks the kiss and kisses your cheek. "You did so good for daddy, so good. I'm proud of you." He kisses your forehead gently, laying on top of you. You whine feeling overstimulated. He chuckles and pulls out of you. His cum dripping on your thigh. "Look, how much mess you made" he gets back down and lick your dripping cum off you, you whine loudly trying to pushes his head, but he only licks you deeper, you grab his hair tightly and pushes his head, he chuckles.

"You taste so good, I just can't stay away." He kisses your forehead once again and grabs wet wipes from the table, cleaning himself and grabbing onto more to clean yourself. you squirm.

"Sorry baby, I'll be gentle, did I hurt you?" He now gently cleans. You shakes your head as you keeps your eyes close feelings sleepy.

Once he cleans you, he uncuffes you and kisses your wrist gently, "you are mine, and only mine, honey, I love you."

He carries you to the bedroom and covers you both in the blanket. Kisses your forehead once again as he snuggles up. "I love you too, jungkook" you mumbles. He chuckles and you both drift off to sleep.

___________________________________________

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[humanpurposes]

August

Part 2: Tell Me What You Want

You and Aemond are getting closer. Things aren't so hostile but there's a new kind of tension between you and it's starting to get unbearable.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected p in v sex, sexual tension, competitive siblings

Words: 8k

A/n: thank u for waiting everyone, I had a rough few weeks of character building 😙 This is a three part series so one part to go

Nights like these come straight from a song, a music video from your favourite band, a moment in a book that stays with you for weeks, months. Crackles and pops come from the fire, smoke and embers rise into an inky sky dotted with stars. In a few months you’ll be looking back on the memory, wishing you could have bottled this feeling, or let it drag its feet so it would never have to end.

The wine has gone to your head. You’re blissfully fuzzy, your mouth slightly numb, a sickly sweet taste lingering on your tongue. Helaena and Aegon are in hysterics over something Daeron has said, a joke from years ago that the siblings had all forgotten until now. Even Aemond cracks a rare smile. You’re sat beside him tonight, leaning against his arm. His hand sneaks its way onto your thigh underneath a blanket, tracing patterns on your bare skin, dangerously close to the hem of your shorts.

The light from the fire looms over his face and you watch him like you did on the beach below Dragonstone. His smile is less refined than the rest of him. You’re not sure what makes you think this. Maybe it’s because he tries to hide it and shrink into himself. Maybe it’s because his mouth is a little crooked and you’re not used to seeing his teeth. 

He turns his head to look down at you. Your heart is frantic in your chest; his nose is so close to yours. You could tilt your head a little further and capture your lips with his, but you won’t, not in front of Helaena and the others.

His eye glances across the fire at his siblings. “Ah,” he mutters under his breath, understanding your hesitation.

You allow your head to settle against his shoulder, adjusting your body, letting yourself mould into the shape of him. “This is nice,” you say with a sigh, just loud enough that only he will hear.

“Hmm,” Aemond says, the sound of his voice and the steady beat of his pulse humming through your chest and limbs. You wonder what he’s thinking about, what’s happening behind that beautiful eye.

Settled against Aemond, a different sort of tipsy ensnares you. Your eyelids are heavy, your body feels at ease. You start to worry if you don’t get to bed soon you won’t make it at all.

Aemond nudges you softly. “You’re falling asleep there, darling.”

Darling.

“I think I should go upstairs,” you mumble.

“Come on,” he says, whisking away the blanket so the mild air jabs at your skin. His body is gone, his warmth is gone, but he’s standing above the bench, holding out his hand for you to take.

When you stand you stumble a little. Aemond’s hand clasps around your wrist to steady you. Your eyes meet his and you giggle to stifle your nerves.

“Lightweight” Aegon calls.

“Piss off,” you return with a grin as Aemond walks you towards the patio doors.

Somehow your arm finds its way to become intertwined with Aemond’s. He leads the way through the gold accents, tall windows and mirrors of the west gallery, but with the light gone it takes on a gloomier, eerier air, darkness reflected into darkness, broken by the chandeliers overhead. You gaze up at the soft light and sparkling crystals. In the morning you’ll probably have an awful hangover, but for now everything around you takes on a fascinating sort of beauty. You hardly realise you’re losing your balance and falling into Aemond. 

He holds your hand as he guides you up the stairs, along the route towards the east wing. When you come to the corridor where your room is, Aemond’s arm snakes around your waist. His fingertips linger softly against your skin, above your shorts where your top has ridden up a little. You don’t mind– gods, he could do anything to you and you wouldn’t mind. 

With this thought, you look at him. Your legs move slowly but synchronised, one slow step after another. You lift a finger and trace it along the length of his nose, down to the little cleft at the tip.

He huffs a laugh. “What?”

“I like your nose,” you say.

“Thank you.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“I like you being honest.”

You both come to a halt when you reach the end of the corridor and the door to your bedroom. Aemond’s hand slips from your waist but he lingers, watching you, his eye roaming over your face. You don’t quite reach for the door handle yet.

“You didn’t have to walk me,” you say. It’s not dreadfully far to get from the garden to the moat room, and besides, you know your way around Dragonstone now.

“I didn’t have to.” Aemond takes a step into you, placing a wide palm at your side and guiding your back against the wall. He sighs slightly as he exhales and excitement floods in your gut. “Maybe I just wanted to get you alone.”

What can you possibly say to that? The lowness of his voice has rendered your mind useless. But you’ve been wondering if that’s what he thinks when he looks at you. It’s hard to tell with Aemond. His pupil is blown wide, wine, darkness, wanting. His lips are parted and each breath he takes is a gentle stroke of air on your skin.

“You could have just said,” you utter.

His hand tightens at your waist. “Now where would be the fun in that?”

His lips are curled at the corners and it’s just too inviting. He inches closer into you and like a jolt of electricity has sparked in your bloodstream, you surge into him. You melt into one another so effortlessly, lips and tongues, his hands on your sides pulling you into him, your arms around his neck and your fingertips teasing his hair.

It’s been inevitable, hasn’t it? All his smug glances, the way he catches your eye in a crowded room or across the garden. It’s pure energy, hot and visceral, every part of you overwhelmed and yet craving more.

He pauses for a breath and kisses you again, then pauses again. He makes a humming sound in his throat and squeezes your body in some kind of finality before he steps away.

You don’t understand it. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, of course you haven’t,” he says quickly. He takes a breath and runs his hand through his hair, his gorgeous, gorgeous hand. “I just… it wouldn’t be fair on you right now.”

You frown. You know you’ve pushed past your usual limit of drinking, and Aemond seems at ease, not in a state where he should be questioning his decisions. But then that probably makes him the sensible one and you haven’t realised how far gone you are.

“No, you’re right,” you say, unable to look away from his eye.

Aemond swallows thickly. “I want to, I really want to.”

“Me too,” you say, heart starting to sink, or is that just the wine?

“Gods, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you’re reaching for the collar of his t-shirt, pressing your fingertips into the fabric and the hard points of his collarbone underneath, “we can be grown ups about this.”

He curls his hand around your wrist. “We get on, don’t we?”

You shrug, hoping he’ll think you’re not that bothered. “I think so.”

“And I think we could have some fun together.”

“Fun?” 

“When we’re both in the right mind.” He lifts your hand away from his chest and brings it to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss against your knuckles. His eye stays fixed on your face, bright blue and hypnotising. You watch his lips, savouring the feeling of them against your skin. You could pull him into you, beg him to kiss you until you can’t breathe…

“Because you’re cute,” he says with a soft click of his tongue.

“Cute,” you repeat.

He leans in to peck your lips. It’s quick, nice, cute.

“Sleep well,” he says and turns away, wandering idly along the corridor. 

“You too,” you say after him, finding your voice feeble and quiet. Before he disappears from your sight you throw open the door to your bedroom and hide yourself away inside.

Back against the closed door, you breathe and clasp your fingers over your mouth to hide your smile from the empty room.

The next day you skip breakfast, needing a lie-in, some painkillers and a large glass of water, provided by Helaena knocking on your door long after you’re usually awake. 

“I didn’t think you were that bad last night,” she says, opening one of the windows.

“I’m not usually a wine drinker, maybe that’s what killed me off,” you grumble, wincing at the light she lets in. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe you just need the sleep, maybe it’s the image you’ve been replaying of Aemond’s body pressing into yours and his vague promise floating around in your head. “I think we could have some fun together…”

You snap yourself out of that pretty quickly considering his sister is perched on the edge of your bed.

“And Aemond walked you up, that was nice of him.”

Apparently there’s no escaping it. “Yeah, it was.”

“So… he was all over you in the garden last night.” When you drag yourself to sit up Helaena is looking eagerly at you.

You blurt out without even thinking, “nothing happened.” You need to get it off your chest, but saying it out loud you don’t feel especially relieved, more embarrassed.

“No of course not,” Helaena says with a mischievous grin. “But you’ve been rather friendly with each other since your little misunderstanding.”

Enough for his siblings to notice at the very least. “It’s not weird, is it?”

“Is what weird?”

You tilt your head with a pleading look. 

“Oh babe,” she says. “No, not weird at all. If anything it’s a little obvious, Aegon’s been waiting for the penny to drop for weeks.”

You cover your head with your hands and groan. For you, attraction, liking someone, has always come with a sense of humiliation. Your friends don’t get your type, and while Aemond is a little unconventional for you he fits the bill well enough, tall, smart, not too boisterous. He also just happens to be pretentious but subtle and perhaps even sweet… the more you think about him the deeper you’re digging yourself into this hole. 

Healena is clearly in hysterics but is trying not to laugh too much to spare you. “It’s cute actually, Aemond’s been a bit… well it’s nice to see him being excited about something for once.”

Once you’ve regained a bit of composure and gotten over the fluttering feeling in your chest, you say, “he kissed me last night.”

“Liar! What happened to ‘nothing happened’?”

“I thought maybe he was a bit drunk.”

“Are you joking? He looks at you like a lost puppy.”

“Please don’t tell me that.”

“No look, here’s what you do. You and him are living under the same roof for another, what, two weeks? What have you got to lose? Live a little, flirt with him, and don’t overthink it.”

If only ‘don’t overthink it’ was a sentence that could actually compute in your brain. 

You’re lying in a lounger by the pool in one of your bikinis, having moved on from Crime and Punishment to Frankenstien. Your body is lathered with suncream, the scent of artificial coconut clinging to your skin. The sun makes you sweat, but you’re enjoying the position you’re in.

Then you take a breath and you smell the cigarette smoke.

You don’t move your head too obviously, your sunglasses hiding where your eyes are looking, but you see Aemond at the edge of the patio, as close as he can get to you without stepping onto the grass. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and shorts, sunglasses perched on his nose as he watches you. Even from a distance his gaze burns into your skin, you can feel it writhing there.

You wish you could be closer, so you could hear his inhales and exhales, see the flexes of his hands as he lifts the cigarette to his lips, the pout as he blows smoke into the air. It’s intoxicating. It’s infuriating.

He disappears into the house before you’ve reached the end of your chapter. You tut to yourself, furious you hadn’t read the lines fast enough so you could accidentally run into him on your way inside. You swing your legs round and slip on your pair of sandals. “Don’t overthink it,” you whisper to yourself. So what if he looks but never comes over? So what if he left whatever this is between you as a wine-fuelled kiss outside your bedroom? When all he had to do was open the door, lay you down on the bed. You would have said yes, sober or not. Would he?

Don’t overthink it. Whatever happens happens.

You leave your towel and book by the pool, but you need a drink to fight off the dry feeling in your mouth. Or maybe you’re just restless. Maybe you need something else to do than sit around and wait.

You go into the kitchen, thankful to see there isn’t anyone around. No Criston sitting at his laptop, no Alicent leaning on his shoulder. There’s noise coming from the staff kitchen, tonight’s dinner prep, which won’t be served for a good few hours. 

In the fridge you find an array of drinks, all sorts of iced teas and flavours of lemonade all in glass bottles. You pick the first thing you see, something pink and labelled as raspberry flavoured. As you’re digging through a drawer trying to find a bottle opener, you hear a few soft footsteps against the tiled floor. There’s a faint scent of cigarettes and aftershave.

“Want some help?” Aemond says.

Conveniently, you close your fingers around the bottle opener. “No, actually, I’m all good,” you say, turning around to flick off the metal cap. 

His eye follows your hand as you place the cap and the opener down on the counter, as you bring the bottle to your lips and take a small sip so that the drink doesn’t fizz.

He’s a friendly distance from you, not close to touching you, but every muscle in your body tenses. You’re so aware of everything he does, the subtle change in his gaze, how his eye darkens as he tilts his head down to look at you, how he holds his mouth, how his nose twitches ever so slightly when he breathes.

And you’re painfully aware of how indecently dressed you are, how good you thought you looked when you last checked your reflection, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of your neck. Can he see it? Does the heat drive him to restlessness too?

“This is nice,” he says, looking over the bikini, a shade of blue that compliments your complexion perfectly. You see his hand twitch at his side. 

Is he thinking about touching you? Is he desperate to pull you in like he did the other night?

“Do you think so?” you say, leaning back on one hand against the counter, waiting for his eye to come back to yours. “You’ve never complimented any of my outfits before, Aemond.” 

His eye seems to light up when you say his name. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them.”

You take another casual sip from the bottle, watching how his throat bobs when he swallows. 

He takes another step forward. He’s testing the waters, you realise, seeing how close he can come before you squirm. You take your weight off your hand on the counter, closing the distance by just another fraction.

“Did you think about me last night?” he mutters. You’re close enough that you can hear him, even when he speaks under his breath. 

“After you left me standing outside my bedroom door?”

He raises a brow.

“Maybe I did.”

“I thought about you,” he says.

“But you didn’t do anything about it.”

With one more step he’s pressed against you, the counter digging into your lower back. Aemond puts his hand at your waist, his thumb resting on your front, not firmly, but noticeable. Your breath hitches.

Aemond smiles to himself. “I said we should both be in the right mind, and you agreed, didn’t you?” His hand trails, moving down to the waist of your bikini bottom. He slips two fingers under the fabric, sliding them up, along the conjuncture of your thigh and your hip. 

You dig your teeth into your lower lip for a moment, determined to keep your composure, desperate to deny him the satisfaction even though it’s already written all over his face. He can see you’re breathless, that your heart is racing in your chest.

The pull to him is like gravity, something that binds the world together, crushing and impossible to deny. 

He leans over your, his lips hovering by your ear, circling an arm around your middle. You can smell the beads of sweat on his neck, the scent of his shampoo, something naturally him that you think will linger in your mind for a while. “So why don’t we stop tip-toeing around each other and enjoy the rest of the summer?”

Why shouldn’t you? Really, why? It’s been so long since you felt a draw like this, since you felt wanted. He’s grovelled enough surely and something about his mask of perfection slipping to reveal something primal and reckless, excites you. Proud Aemond Targaryen, digging his hands into your flesh, grazing his lips over your ear, your jaw–

Your eyes flicker to the door. Daeron’s standing in the doorway in his tennis gear, face pink and sweat dripping from his silver hair.

Aemond notices you’ve frozen. He slowly pulls away and glances over his shoulder. His posture instantly shifts. 

“Alright, kids?” Daeron says, shoulders swaying as he walks into the kitchen.

Aemond’s standing in front of you, nudging you with his hand to keep your body concealed behind his. From over his shoulder you watch Daeron take a bottle of iced tea from the fridge. He opens the cap on the side of the counter.

“Don’t stop on my account. I’m not even here.” Daeron chugs from the glass bottle, making a smacking sound with his lips and taking a breath with a smug “ah!” when he pulls it away from his mouth.

Aemond turns to face you. “Thinks he’s so fucking funny.”

Daeron shoots you a wink. With the moment firmly crushed under his younger brother’s Asics tennis shoes and Adidas socks, you slip from Aemond’s grip.

“I’m gonna get my book,” you say.

Aemond angles his brows like he’s begging you to stay, but he lets you go out to the garden without much more of a fight.

His lingering stares and double takes are becoming more brazen now.

You sit with your parents that night at dinner. Your father tells you about the golf club on the neighbouring island of Driftmark, which Corlys Velaryon is insisting the men should all go to visit sometime this week. It’s not far, a quick journey on one of the yachts. Your mother had gone into the town today with Alicent and shows you the photos she took of some adorable clay figures of animals and seashells in a local craft shop.

This doesn’t seem to deter Aemond at all. He’s where he usually is, at the head of the table, looking over at you every so often while Helaena speaks at length to him. You catch snippets of this one-sided conversation, sea birds and prey, wingspans and something about dinosaurs?

The distance between you is starting to feel unbearable.

After dinner Aegon leads you and the others to the library where he rummages through a floor to ceiling shelf of DVDs.

You and Aemond find yourselves sat together on the same sofa, with space for an extra person between you. Helaena is elated when she finds Dreamfyre the cat curled up on one of the arm chairs, scooping her up into her arms and hugging her close to her chest like a teddy.

Daeron takes the other arm chair, his arms full of snacks. He throws a packet of salted popcorn at Aemond and it hits him on the blind side of his face. “Fuck, sorry.”

Aemond turns his head to you and gives you a pointed look. 

You tilt your head. Ignore him, you think, then realise the absolute insanity of thinking that Aemond can hear what you’re saying in your head. You huff through your nose, a smile on your face, and shuffle closer to Aemond so you can claim the popcorn. The fact that you’re sidled up to him and his arm has found its way around you to get more comfortable is a happy coincidence. 

“A-ha!” Aegon presents his finding like it’s an ancient heirloom; a copy of American Psycho. 

Helaena groans. 

“It’s a masterpiece,” Aegon insists.

“Yeah, I so want to spend my evening watching some self absorbed investment banker brutally murder women.”

“Even if he’s played by Christian Bale?”

Helaena does a double take of the DVD cover. “Put that shit on right now.”

As Patrick Bateman goes through his psychotically perfect skincare routine, does crunches to the sounds of screaming women and lodges an axe in Jared Leto’s face to ‘Hip To Be Square’, you and Aemond melt into one another. It hits you how settled you feel lying against Aemond’s chest, your ear against his ribcage so you can feel his heartbeat, your head rising and falling with his breathing. His fingers start to trace over your arm, up and down, lulling your mind until you’ve forgotten to be nervous about being so close to him, so self conscious that you might be in the wrong position, how your cheek might look slightly squashed against him.

It’s not very ‘Letterboxd enthusiast’ of you to be thinking less about the film, instead wondering if Aemond will walk you to your room tonight, if he’ll kiss you again, if he’ll ask to come into your room and shed the simple layers of your t-shirt and jeans.

You press your lips together. You haven’t touched any wine tonight, and neither has he. 

Once the credits have started rolling you sit up, noticing how stiff your body is having been in the same position for the entire length of the film. You stretch your arms out and catch Aemond looking at you, trying to hide a smile.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron are arguing about the next film.

“Scream.”

“Aegon, please, no more horror.”

“But Matthew Lillard!”

“What?” You say, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He makes that cryptic humming sound again. “Feel like going to bed?” He says quietly.

Your stomach drops, but you want to play this cool. Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it. “Whose?”

Aemond half smiles. “Mine.”

You make your excuses. Aemond makes his. As soon as he shuts the door to the library the boys start howling like dogs.

Your heart is racing. Every part of you is screaming at you, begging for more contact, to have that beautiful eye on you again.

“Sorry about my family,” Aemond says, running his hand through his hair. You’re trying to pinpoint the notes of his aftershave, sweet and dark, like black coffee and honey. “As you can see they’re all very good at minding their own business–”

Your hands are on the sides of his jaw, against the gentle sharpness of his silver stubble, pulling his lips into yours. 

Aemond immediately offers you his hunger. It takes you off-guard for a moment, how he grabs at your waist, pushing his body against yours so he can devour you how he wants to. His mouth moves down to your neck and you sigh without meaning to.

“Moaning for me already?” he teases, dragging his teeth over your skin.

“You fucking wish,” you say but your voice sounds utterly pathetic at the feeling of his hands on you, your hips, the backs of your thighs, cupping between your legs. “Aemond…”

“Sorry, I’m getting carried away,” he says, kissing up along your cheek and your temple. He pulls away from you, pupil blown wide in the darkened corridor, roaming your not quite flattering David Bowie t-shirt. He reaches for your hand and presses a peck against your knuckles.

You let him lead you towards the east wing, to the corridor where you’d usually part ways if you were going to your own bedrooms. Once you’ve gone past the door that would lead you back to the moat room, you start to feel lightheaded, disorientated. Somehow it feels nice.

Your heart beats more furiously with every door you pass. You don’t know which one will lead to his room, but there’s one at the very end, which he seems to be eyeing.

“Aemond?” You’ve stopped walking.

He grips your hand tighter. “Yes?”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Oh. No, that’s fine.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t– don’t say sorry. Fuck, I should be the one apologising, I didn’t– I thought you wanted to?”

Seven hells, I’ve made it awkward. He hasn’t misread you, you’ve played into everything he’s given you, but something’s still holding you back. His grip on your hand is getting loose, his gaze is dropping. The moment is slipping and you can’t let it happen.

“Wait,” you say, reaching for him. Your fingers close around his forearm, slim but strong. “I don’t know, I’m not great at asking for what I want.”

His eye comes to yours, determined, more intense than you think you’ve seen before. “That’s alright. You can tell me, what do you want to do?”

You take a moment to consider, your eyes tracing the curve of his lips, the shape of his nose. You hold your breath so you can listen to his. You want this. You want this. You want him. “I want to kiss you more.”

He takes your hands in his, circling his thumb over the delicate skin of the inside of your wrists. “Yeah?”

“And, I want to be near you.”

He lifts your right hand and replaces his thumb with his lips. A surge of wanting shudders through your limbs. “And?”

You close your eyes and whisper. “And I want you to make me come.”

He smiles against your skin. “How do you want me to do that?”

“With your mouth,” you say. You feel his fingertips at the pulsepoint of your left wrist. You love watching his hands, you can picture them perfectly in your head. “And your fingers.”

“There’s a good girl,” he says.

Aemond steps away from you, opening the door and inviting you inside. You weren’t sure what you were expecting from his room but this seems about right, dark wood panelled walls like the rest of the rooms in the house. The curtains are wide open, overlooking the front of the house and you’re high up enough that you can see the sea, or you would in the daylight. He has bookshelves, mostly full of fantasy novels, children’s books. He explains most of these are from his summers spent here as a kid, plus a few text books, Comparative Politics, The History of Philosophy…

“The impressive collection of classics is at my place in King’s Landing.”

“I’m sure it is impressive,” you say. You wonder if you’ll ever get to see it.

He has a vanity, a hairbrush, a few bottles of aftershave, face serums and deodorant all placed neatly underneath a mirror. He has posters on the walls, all in black frames and hung in an orderly fashion, of sci-fi shows and movies and bands that were popular ten years ago. There’s another stack of shelves by the wardrobe with trophies, plaques, medals, photographs of Alicent with four silver-haired children, a certain little boy with a tennis racket in his hands, another with a fencing mask under his arm.

“I haven’t changed the room much,” he mutters.

“It’s adorable,” you say.

His arms circle around your middle, pulling you in close so he can kiss your neck again. “You’re moaning again,” he says when you let out a heavy breath.

“No I’m not, I’m just breathing.”

“Liar,” he teases. One of his hands slides along your body to your rear and he squeezes you through your jeans. 

When you catch a glimpse of a silver chain under his collar you’re suddenly insatiable. Your hands are clawing at his t-shirt and he wastes no time in pulling it off, coming back to kiss you like he cannot bear to be parted from you, and kissing him feels as perfect as it did that night when you both tasted like wine. 

You don’t care where your clothes fall, which pile of fabric is his, which is yours. He lays you down on the bed with a gentle but commanding grip on your neck. He kisses you over and over again, grinding a growing hardness between your legs against the fabric of your panties. He smothers you, his bare body sinking against yours, your lips grazing against his skin, your legs parting to make room for him, desperate for the friction. 

He works his way down, trailing his tongue along your throat, kissing your bare chest, teasing your nipples with his lips, tongue and teeth. Maybe you are moaning. The thrill of it echoes through your body and serves to stir the wanting in your belly, the tightness that’s going to drive you insane.

He keeps kissing down, pausing when he comes to your panties. He looks up at you, lips parted, your fingers starting to slip into his hair. “Look at you,” he says. “You’re so hot when you’re needy.”

He’s barely touching you and you can’t take the teasing.

He doesn’t keep you like this forever. He kisses around it, the soft skin of your inner thighs before he finally, finally pulls your underwear down your legs. He starts slowly, gently, each swipe of his tongue tortuous and divine. 

And usually your mind would wander. You’d try so hard to focus on the pleasure, think of some depraved scenario so you could actually come. Aemond commands your attention and you can’t bring yourself to look at anything other than the sight of his mouth working against your cunt, the obscene sounds he makes, the roughness of his voice when he stops to remark how wet you are, how good you’re doing for him.

Your grip of his hair tightens. You don’t worry if it will hurt him, not with the way he whines when you do, how his body jerks as he tries to grind his hips into the mattress. 

It’s too much and it’s perfect. It builds and builds until it bursts and the pleasure tears through your body. Aemond holds your legs apart to see you through it, until you’re shaking and begging him to stop.

When he lifts his head he’s as breathless as you are, his brow dewy with sweat. “How was that?”

“Good,” you say, then decide that isn’t quite enough. “Really fucking good.”

Aemond smirks. His eye stays on your face as the tip of his middle finger rests at your entrance. As soon as he slips inside, your body is weightless. You could almost laugh to yourself, all those times you’ve looked at his hands and now you know you were right. He feels good, thicker, longer than your own digits, reaching deeper than you ever could.

He makes a game out of this, seeing how he can make you react, praising every movement of your hips, every noise you make, how many times he can get you to come.

When it’s done and you can’t take any more, he lies beside you, putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You let your hand settle on his stomach, on the patch of hairs that trails down to the waist of his boxers. 

“You don’t have to…” he says, as you start to feel over his skin with your fingertips.

“Do you mind if I return the favour?” you ask, sitting up and leaning on your palm, looking down at him.

Aemond stares at your face. “Of course, as long as you want to.”

“I do,” you say,  enjoying the way his expression lightens.

You position yourself along his body and rid him of the boxers. His cock is an impressive size, a little intimidating, but you’re already craving the feeling of him in your mouth, hard and needy, especially after he’s watched you come undone so many times. 

You trail your tongue along his length, teasing over the tip and savouring the taste of him. You work him with your mouth and your hand where you can’t take him. You love the sounds he makes, his sighs and moans.

“Good girl,” he coos, “can that pretty mouth take more?”

You want to, you want him to feel good. You look up to him, trying to take more every time your mouth moves down.

Aemond watches you in wonder. He gathers your hair in one hand. “Tap my leg if it gets too much.”

You hum in agreement.

He pushes your head down. “Relax,” he utters, “fuck, just relax, you’re doing so good.”

You hardly understand how it makes you want more, the weight of him, the discomfort in your jaw, but you like it. You feel your stomach starting to tighten again.

Aemond pulls your head up and you catch your breath, quickly working your hand over his cock. He’s squirming now, pleading for release. You move your mouth to his balls and he doesn’t last long after that.

He pulls you by your hair again, prodding the tip at your lips. “Swallow it,” he growls as he slips into your mouth once more. You feel the warmth over your tongue and he comes, wincing slightly at the taste, letting it dribble from the corner of your mouth. 

You must look like a fucking mess, his cum dripping from your mouth, your hair ruffled from his grip, trying to catch your breath as his cock softens.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he utters. 

You fall asleep in his bed, your head against his chest and his arms around you. As you drift off you try not to think about the summer’s impending end, that the days are already getting shorter.

Don’t overthink it.

You think you could allow yourself to enjoy this, the light feeling in your body, the relief of being held by someone else, the sound of Aemond’s fluttering breath soothing you to a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Helaena suggested that you join her and the boys for tennis, you thought it meant you might actually get a chance to play. You and Aemond could have played a doubles match. He could have given you some pointers on your technique, and if you won he could have looked at you with that smug look of his. Or you could have gone head to head. He would have won, inevitably, but he’d be looking at you with a competitive intensity which could easily be switched into a different kind of eagerness.

You’ve not got a terrible view. Aemond’s face is dark with determination, every part of him drenched with sweat and his hands gripping the racket like it’ll purposefully try to jump out of his grasp. He grunts every time he hits the ball, and he does it with a terrifying amount of power. 

“Match point!” Aegon’s made himself comfortable in a plastic chair at the side of the court, sipping bottles of beer from a cooler box he made Daeron carry over.

At first you were worried you might have to watch Aemond lose this. Daeron started off strong. He’s young, slim, quick, but he’s running out of stamina. This is where the match turned in Aemond’s favour. He hasn’t tired out so easily. 

Daeron serves. Aemond sends the ball flying back. Daeron has to run for it but he just manages to hit it into Aemond’s court. And while Daeron’s far over on the left, Aemond hits it to the right. There’s no chance that Daeron will get it and he knows it, not even running for it. But Aemond’s hit it hard, if it’s out of the court then Daeron has another chance to win.

You all freeze. Aegon leans forward, eyes on the line and…

“In!”

“Fuck!” Daeron cries.

You and Helaena break into cheers. Aegon wipes his brow as if he’s the exhausted athlete and helps himself to another beer.

Aemond looks at you, trying not to smile. He offers his hand to Daeron but he’s having none of it.

He comes straight to you, lifting you into a spin like you’re in a rom-com.

“Why do I feel like you’ve just won Wimbledon?” you say as he sets you down.

“Please, this is more competitive than Wimbledon,” Helaena says, evidenced by the fact that Daeron has grabbed his racket and is already walking back towards the house.

“It’s a valuable lesson to learn how to lose gracefully,” Aemond insists. 

On the walk through the gardens, Aemond keeps his arm around you, even when you protest that he’s literally wet with sweat. Not that you mind, you’re in a t-shirt and some sports shorts you’ve borrowed from Helaena. It’s all very sweet, very intimate all of a sudden, after you’ve spent the last few weeks acting like you dislike each other.

It’s early evening and the sun is inching closer to the horizon. The crashing of waves surrounds Dragonstone, no matter where you stand, the tennis court, the gardens, the front drive. Helaena and Aegon announce they’re going to have a few more drinks on the patio. And Aemond leads you upstairs to his room.

The moment the door is shut his lips are on yours, hands lightly touching your jaw. Is he afraid he’ll douse you with sweat, that his hands will feel too rough on your skin, that he’ll break you somehow?

There’s a nagging feeling in your heart and in the back of your head, the overwhelming urge to be close to him, to feel him. You stumble over yourselves and you drag him towards the bed by the collar of his tank top.

He’s on top of you, palms on either side of your head, his hair falling over your forehead, keeping you flat on the mattress with his body. “Don’t get me all worked up, darling, I need to shower–”

You interrupt him with quick, needy kisses. You can’t get enough of him, the softness of his mouth, his heat, the taste of him on your tongue.

He has to drag himself away, grinning, stroking his jaw with the backs of his fingers. “You’re tempting,” he muses.

“Not tempting enough,” you say with a playful pout.

“Give me two minutes.”

“I’ll be counting.”

He huffs a laugh. “That’s a good girl.”

Your brain short circuits. In that moment you’d wait for hours if he asked you to. 

He strips off in front of you, his trainers, his top, the shorts and the pair of boxers. You sit on the edge of the bed, hypnotised as you watch his muscles and tendons flex under his skin, all his sharp edges, the contented look on his face.

He leans over you once more, kissing you lightly on your head before he disappears into his ensuite. You listen to the rush of water, the sound of his footsteps when you can catch them. You imagine him there, water running over his body, hands working some shower gel into a lather and rubbing it into his skin. 

You take shallow, steady breaths, telling yourself you’re not trying to commit the smell of his sheets to memory. But you feel comfortable here, in his bed, in his room, in this small fraction of his world. There’s only so much you know of him, the books he likes, how quiet and commanding he can be, how his mouth feels and how his brow scrunches when you make him feel good. You’re sitting amongst fragments of him now, the sports trophies, the old photos, the text books, trying to piece it all together into the man you fell asleep with last night.

What’s his place like in King’s Landing? You bet it’s in some expensive neighbourhood, Visenya’s Hill or one of those squares by Regent’s Park. You picture marble surfaces, vintage furniture, rows and rows of books, dark wood floors, deep shades of blue and green, tall windows, maybe a bed for Vhagar.

There’s so much you want to know about him, so many questions you could ask.

The shower stops. You try to act as casually as you can and like you haven’t been restless on his bed waiting for him to come back to you.

When the door opens a cloud of steam wafts into the bedroom. Aemond has dried himself off mostly, ruffling the towel in his hair. You can taste the sweetness of the water on your tongue, and breathe in the scent of his shampoo. His eye is on you as he tosses the towel aside and approaches the bed.

He kisses you tenderly, slowly tugging away your t-shirt, then the shorts. Once you’re naked his demeanour shifts. His hands are firm on your thighs, spreading your legs apart, holding you down as he drags your panties to one side and devours you. 

You can’t stop moving but it doesn’t matter, Aemond keeps you right where he wants you, circling and pressing with his tongue where you need him. Has he remembered from last night? Has he thought about this since?

When you come undone Aemond hums lowly in his chest, pleased, satisfied, to a point. He grinds his hardened length against your bare cunt, effortless with the aftermath of your orgasm. Each push of his head against your clit sends a shockwave through your spine. He’s teasing you, you can see it on his face.

You let out a quiet noise from your throat.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Aemond says sweetly.

You try to angle your hips and rock against him, but he knows what your game is and keeps his tortuous movements steady.

“That’s not good enough, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you mutter, looking away from his face.

He’s having none of that. There’s a weight on your neck, his hand, forcing your gaze back to him. “Say that again.”

He’s slowed down, any hint of pleasure is fading quickly. You can’t let it happen, you need more. “I want you to fuck me,” you say again.

Aemond leans into you, forehead against yours, breath hot against your open mouth. “Beg me for it.”

“Please,” you whisper, lips grazing over his, “please fuck me, Aemond.”

The tip of his cock slips down to your entrance. He whispers in your ear, “is no condom okay?”

You nod. “I’m on the pill.”

Without any more preamble he slowly starts to rock his hips again, inching inside. You gasp at the stretch, clinging onto his shoulders as he works himself into you. You let your forehead rest against his chin, focusing on him, the little grunts he makes as he fills you.

“So fucking tight,” he whispers. Maybe he’s just as desperate and needy as you are.

His thrusts are shallow at first, but he presses in deeper. He keeps it slow, thorough, propping himself up on his hands, letting his pelvis grind into your clit. Your legs curl around his hips to keep him close, to keep yourself open for him. 

He’s reaching so deep, then he ups his pace, fucking into you quick and hard, and you can do nothing but cling to him and take it. 

You feel yourself clench around him, letting out a strangled sort of cry.

“That’s it,” Aemond rasps in your ear, “that feels good doesn’t it?”

You utter a mindless “yeah,”

“Are you going to come for me?”

“I…” you think so, something’s tightening inside you. You can’t speak or help the moans that slip from your mouth.

“I wanna feel you come around my cock,” Aemond says, “please, sweetheart, please,”

The pleasure snaps and your whole body lurches, back arching, your nails digging into Aemond’s skin. He fucks you through it, panting and sighing until he stills. With a few more gentle thrusts you feel a warmth blooming inside of you. He pulls out slowly, leaning back on his haunches to admire his work.

There’s a quiet moment, when you’re both catching your breath. Your eyes meet and you smile at him. He’s sweating again.

You go back to your room to shower and dress for dinner. Helaena knocks on your door before you head down together, a pleasant ache between your legs that feels like a shameful secret.

“Aemond seemed happy about the tennis,” she says.

“Mm hmm,” you offer.

“So did you…”

“Seven hells, he’s your brother,” you whisper, feeling blood flush in your cheeks.

“Well obviously I don’t want details about him, but as your friend I want you to be happy and have good sex.”

You wish you could shrink into your shoulders. “Yes, it was good.”

She squeals with laughter and tickles under your chin like you’re a child. “I’m so proud of both of you,” she says.

You and Helaena sit together around the table, this time you’re next to Aemond. Daeron is opposite you, Aegon to his right, opposite Helaena. 

Alicent is keen to hear about the result of the tennis match. 

“It was a tough call,” Aegon says like a sports commentator, “going in, expectations were high for Mr Targaryen, and equally Mr Targaryen is a promising young player, as we all know well–”

Otto chuckles from the other side of the table. The rest of the table starts to become engrossed in Aegon’s retelling of events, even Viserys.

“But ultimately the younger player was worn down, and it was in fact Mr Targaryen who prevailed!”

“But, who actually won?” Alicent asks, completely lost until she sees the scowl on Daeron’s face.

“Who knew Aemond still had it in him?” Aegon says, raising a piece of steak on a fork to him like a toast, “after all those office hours, I thought you were officially a boring bastard.”

“You know Aemond,” Daeron says, “he’s full of surprises.”

You frown with a flicker of confusion. Aemond’s glaring at his younger brother. Aegon raises his brow, taking a deep drink from his wine.

“A man of many talents,” Helaena adds lightheartedly.

“Take this development for example,” Daeron says, nodding to you.

“Daeron,” his mother warns.

Anger rushes through you like a fist around your heart. “What’s so interesting about it?” you ask.

Daeron shrugs. “It’s just that Aemond’s usually into older women–”

There’s a scraping sound as Aemond rises from his chair. He doesn’t shout, or glare, or slam his fist on the table. He simply leaves.

Daeron’s smirking. Everyone else is looking at you, Aegon, Alicent, your own parents.

“You’re a fucking arse,” Helaena hisses across.

You’ve had dreams before, when something’s chasing you and you can’t run, like your legs are made of ice and you can’t convince them to move, to keep out of the reach of danger. That’s exactly how you feel now, like you’re living in a nightmare, pulse pounding in your chest, no way to escape.

You don’t wait to consider what Daeron might have meant. You get up from your chair and follow Aemond from the dining hall.

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[kathaelipwse]

New hair color │ SKZ {OT8}

Pairing: Stray Kids x GN!Reader (OT8)

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 859 words ; Reading Time: 5-ish mins Warnings: Flirty banter, shameless thirsting, playing with their hair, mutual teasing, mild suggestiveness

Synopsis: When Stray Kids show up with freshly dyed hair—you’re done for. Completely. Utterly. Shamelessly obsessed. You can’t keep your hands (or your compliments) to yourself, and they know it. But what happens when they start teasing you back? It’s a war of flirtation, and you’re losing beautifully. Author's Note: The way I went absolutely feral over their specific hair colors (I need help. ASAP.) They really said "let’s give the people a crisis." Like they knew we would be down bad- I’m not okay. Enjoy this mess.

Bang Chan (.......BLONDE AH BLONDE-)

You were practically draped over him, fingers threading through the fresh strands like you were hypnotized. “You have no business looking this fine,” you mumbled, tugging gently at the hair near his nape. Chan tilted his head, eyes playful. “You’ve been touching my hair for fifteen minutes. Is this a new form of worship?” “Maybe,” you murmured. “I’m just trying to memorize every inch.” He leaned in, voice lower. “Should I be concerned… or flattered?” You smirked. “Depends. Are you gonna keep looking like my favorite sin?” His lips curled into a grin. “If this is your reaction, I might dye it again next month—just to see you lose your mind all over again.”

Lee Know (AHHHH! PURPLE LINO- GET HIM BACK TT)

You didn’t even greet him. Just reached up and grabbed a handful of freshly dyed perfection, sighing like you were in pain. “You’re gonna ruin me.” Minho chuckled. “Over hair?” “Over you. This color is giving ‘boyfriend who breaks hearts and knows it.’” He quirked a brow. “Good. I like when you get a little desperate.” You narrowed your eyes. “That sounds like a challenge.” He smirked. “Is it working?” “Unfortunately for my dignity? Yes. Now shut up and let me touch it before I combust.”

Changbin (THE FADDED BLUE AND GLIMPSE OF BLONDE- *dies*)

“You’re not real,” you whispered, staring at him like he just walked out of a music video. “You’re… I don’t even have words.” Changbin smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “You’ve said that five times now.” “Because I can’t stop looking at you! You’re walking boyfriend propaganda.” He stepped closer, voice teasing. “Is this how you flirt? Obsessively petting my head and gasping every five seconds?” “Yes,” you replied instantly. “And don’t act like you’re not loving every second.” He grinned. “I won’t lie. It’s cute how weak you are for me.” You squinted. “Weak? Baby, I’m feral.”

Hyunjin (Please tell me I wasn't the only one who went CRAZY over this-)

You ran your fingers through the strands like you were admiring art. “This is illegal. This hair? The sharp jaw? The smug face you’re making right now?” Hyunjin smirked. “You’re looking at me like I’m dessert.” “You are dessert.” “Then why haven’t you taken a bite?” Your fingers paused. “Hyunjin.” He leaned in, lips ghosting near your ear. “I’m just saying… you keep touching me like that, and I might start thinking you’re serious.” You smirked back. “Oh, baby. I’ve been serious.”

Jisung (THIS. THIS IS IT. AND THE FADDED BLUE LATER THO-)

“Jisung.” “Hmm?” “You need to stop doing this.” “Doing what?” You grabbed both sides of his face. “Existing with this hair color. It’s messing with my self-control.” He grinned. “You have self-control? Since when?” You gasped dramatically. “I’m trying to be normal about this but look at you.” He wiggled his brows. “You wanna run your fingers through it again, huh?” You didn’t even deny it. “Yes. And maybe cry a little. You’re too powerful.” He leaned closer. “Good. I like being your weakness.”

Felix (.....AHHH DAYUM I NEED THIS BACK)

Your hands were in his hair before you even said hi. “How does it feel to be God’s favorite?” Felix laughed, tilting his head so you could touch more. “You’re ridiculous.” “You’re ridiculous. This hair is ridiculous. Your face is ridiculous.” He gave you a teasing pout. “So dramatic. Should I walk in slow motion next time?” “Yes. With wind machines. Shirt slightly unbuttoned.” Felix chuckled, brushing your hand with his. “You’re kind of obsessed with me, huh?” You met his gaze, totally shameless. “Baby, I’m hopeless.”

Seungmin (my shyla- ahh I love him-)

“You’re evil,” you said the moment he walked in. Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “What’d I do now?” You pointed. “That hair. That smirk. The way you know what you’re doing to me.” “Oh?” He stepped closer, cocky now. “You mean this?” He ran a hand through his own hair, slowly. You bit your lip. “You’re doing this on purpose.” “I don’t have to try. You’re already obsessed.” “I am not.” “You’re stroking my hair like it’s a rare animal. Be honest.” “…Fine. I’m obsessed. Happy now?” He grinned. “Very.”

Jeongin (THE LIGHT PINK-)

“I don’t know who you think you are,” you muttered, shamelessly raking your fingers through his new hair, “but I am not okay with this level of attractiveness.” Jeongin grinned, all smug charm. “Really? I thought you’d handle it better.” “You dyed it. You styled it. You smirked at me when you walked in. It’s like you’re trying to kill me.” He tilted his head innocently. “You make it sound like I planned this.” You stared. “Did you?” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” “…If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna do something reckless.” “Good. I like when you get reckless.”