#in a show that is marked as adult/explicit

[usagii-bun]

𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑. jing yuan x fem foxian! reader (nsfw).

In which Jing Yuan, a man renowned for his unwavering control and discipline, finds that resolve unraveling in your presence — your every move, every glance, every touch igniting a fire within him he can no longer contain discovering an intoxicating solace in the sensual art of your dance, each sway of your hips pulling him deeper into an obsession he cannot, and will not, resist.

word count : 12k (12k words of edging)

warnings: explicit sexual content includes detailed descriptions of sexual acts (fingering, oral—f receiving, dry humping, thigh riding, implied future penetration), obssesed jing yuan, possessive jing yuan, slight power imbalance implied, erotic dancing/ adult entertainment , sensory overload, marking.

minors are NOT to read this story. If you are uncomfortable with detailed sexual content or themes of dominance and obsession, this is not the story for you. please proceed responsibly and at your own discretion.

DO NOT REUPLOUD OR CLAIM my work as yours. i have taken a lot of time to write this and it would be very disheartening to see someone claim something i took so long to write and craft.

anways, please do enjoy and leave a comment :3 reblogs, likes and follows are high appreciated

— usagii-bun <3

The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over the quiet, cobblestone streets of Aurum Alley. It was a place where the night whispered its secrets, and the air, thick with the heavy scent of incense and mystery, carried tales only the privileged knew. Tucked away behind a discreet set of bamboo doors was the establishment—a brothel veiled in silence but brimming with the hum of indulgence. Even a general like Jing Yuan, weighed down by the armour of responsibility, found solace in the allure of its hidden embrace.

His feet moved almost of their own accord as he made his way to the entrance. Tired eyes, burdened by countless battles and endless politics, sought release in the only way he knew how—a brief escape from the turmoil of his mind. The soft click of his boots echoed, barely audible against the gentle wind that danced through the alley. And there, the door opened, not by his hand, but by a woman’s, poised and serene.

The Foxian lady who greeted him stood in the doorway like an ethereal figure, her beauty transcending time. Her skin was porcelain, her long, raven-black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, framed by the glow of lanterns. Dressed in silk, her robes shimmered in shades of crimson and gold, the fabric clinging to her form in ways both graceful and alluring. She held herself with an air of elegance, her fox ears twitching lightly with every movement, her tail curling behind her in soft, languid strokes. She was an embodiment of allure, wrapped in silk and mysteries, every inch a vision of untold desires.

"Welcome, General Jing Yuan," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, respectful yet laden with something deeper, something more intoxicating. "Please, allow me to show you the wonders within."

With a graceful gesture, she led him inside, and Jing Yuan, caught in the captivating pull of her presence, followed. The atmosphere shifted the moment he stepped over the threshold. The entrance was bathed in the soft glow of lotus lanterns, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The scent of incense—jasmine, sandalwood, and something sweeter—hung thick in the air, enveloping his senses like a warm blanket, clouding his thoughts and easing the tightness in his chest. The walls were adorned with delicate scrolls, ancient calligraphy curling like the wind in a lover’s embrace, telling tales of forgotten empires and lost passion. Red and gold adorned every corner, the hues rich like blood and treasure, a royal reminder of the power that pulsed through these hidden chambers.

The floors beneath him were smooth stone, cool and polished, reflecting the shimmering silk curtains that hung like veils, concealing whatever lay beyond. The gentle swish of the fabric was like a soft caress, a whisper of something forbidden. There were flowers everywhere—tiger lilies, peonies, and chrysanthemums—arranged in intricate vases, their fragrant petals drifting lazily in the air, mixing with the incense to create a heady perfume that seemed to linger in his very breath.

As they moved deeper into the establishment, the general’s eyes took in the sight around him. Men and women, dressed in delicate silk robes of every colour imaginable, wandered freely, mingling with one another. The silk shimmered in the candlelight, revealing glimpses of soft skin and delicate features. Women draped themselves over men, while men held women in their arms with equal parts reverence and longing. The air was thick with the hum of quiet conversation, with laughter and sighs mingling in a sweet symphony that seemed to be playing just for those fortunate enough to be here.

"Come," the Foxian lady said softly, leading him up a staircase adorned with red and gold lanterns. "If you wish, you may enjoy performance privately upstairs."

Her eyes, sparkling like the night stars, hinted at something playful, something dangerous. Jing Yuan, ever the composed general, only nodded, his lips curling slightly at the invitation.

The night stretched out before you, the rhythmic beat of the music setting the pace for the dance that would soon unfold. Your heartbeat in time with the soft melody, the flickering candlelight reflecting off your skin as you prepared to enter the stage. The room below you were full of people—men, women, all draped in delicate silks, moving among each other in whispered conversations and soft laughter. The atmosphere was intoxicating, thick with the scent of incense and roses, the air so rich with desire it nearly hummed.

Tonight, you were not just a dancer; you were a vision, a creature of silk and allure, meant to captivate every gaze that fell upon you. You had practiced this for hours, days, months—the art of seduction through movement. As you slowly ascended onto the stage, the soft rustle of your costume, the shimmer of the golden jewellery adorning your body, set the tone for the entrancing spectacle to come. Your tail swayed behind you, brushing against the floor like a soft whisper, your ears twitching with the anticipation of the performance to come.

The room quieted, the hushed murmurs dying down as you took your first step into the spotlight. The soft glow of lotus lanterns, their flames flickering in the dim room, bathed you in an amber hue. Your body moved, fluid and graceful, as if the music itself was a part of you, guiding your every step. You could feel the eyes of the room on you—every gaze fixated; each breath held in anticipation of your every move.

From the elevated room above, General Jing Yuan watched. The scene below him was nothing new—he had seen these kinds of performances before—but this time, something was different. As you danced, his attention was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. There was something in your movement that was unlike the others. The grace with which you moved, the way your body seemed to flow effortlessly with the music, drew him in. It wasn’t just your physical beauty, though you were undeniably stunning—every curve, every movement was perfection—but something deeper, something intangible. It was the essence you exuded—the confidence, the strength, the raw magnetism that seemed to pull him closer despite the distance between you.

Your movements were slow, deliberate. Your arms flowed through the air, a soft trace of elegance, while your hips swayed in time with the rhythm of the instruments, your skin glowing in the soft light. Each step you took was an invitation, each flick of your wrist a silent promise, each roll of your hips a beckoning. It was erotic without being crude, sensual without losing its grace. You were a goddess in motion, a creature born to captivate and beguile.

As you moved, your eyes flicked upwards, meeting his gaze for just a moment. It was a brief connection—one that he felt more than he could explain. His breath caught in his throat as your gaze locked with his, your eyes filled with an emotion that seemed to pull him in, deeper than he ever expected to go. The flicker of awareness between you made his chest tighten, and his pulse quickened. It was like you knew exactly what effect you were having on him, like you could feel his gaze following every step, every motion.

Your body twisted and arched as you danced, the silk of your costume brushing over your skin like a soft caress. The jewellery you wore—delicate chains, pearls, and golden rings—clinked softly with every movement, drawing attention to the curves of your body. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, intoxicating and heavy, as your tail swished behind you, swaying in perfect rhythm with your every move.

Jing Yuan, sitting in his private alcove, could barely tear his eyes away from you. He felt an inexplicable pull, a hunger that wasn’t just for your physical form, but for the energy you radiated. It was raw and untamed, a force he couldn’t quite explain, yet he felt it in every fibre of his being. His hands clenched at his sides as the tension built in his chest, a wave of heat spreading through him. His body reacted against his will, betraying him as he watched you.

You were no longer just a dancer. You were the embodiment of something else—something deeper, more primal. You were pulling him into a world he hadn’t known he was even willing to enter, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something—something he hadn’t felt in years. The weight of his responsibilities, his title, the endless wars and battles that had marked his life, seemed to fade into the background. They no longer mattered.

The music picked up, becoming more intense, the tempo quickening. Your movements followed suit, each step becoming more deliberate, more daring. The room was alive with the heat of desire, the air crackling with tension. Jing Yuan’s breath caught in his throat, your body undulating in a way that was both art and allure. You were making a show of it—of him—and for the first time in a long time, it was his turn to be caught.

The music slowed, and you took your final step, the dance reaching its end. Your body twisted, swayed, and your movements grew more subtle, teasing. As the final note of the music played, the room fell into a hushed silence. Jing Yuan remained frozen, captivated by your performance. His mind buzzed with a million thoughts, none of them clear, none of them rational. All he knew was that he needed to be closer to you, to taste whatever you were offering.

As the lights dimmed and the room came back to life with murmurs and applause, Jing Yuan finally found his voice. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving you. “Can I… request her?” His words were barely above a whisper, filled with an urgency that surprised even him.

The Foxian lady, who had been watching with knowing eyes, nodded with a smile. "Of course, General Jing Yuan. She is yours for the evening."

The air inside the private alcove was thick with a sensual tension, the dim light casting soft shadows around the space. Jing Yuan sat back in a velvet-covered chair, his posture commanding yet relaxed. His mind was still reeling from the magnetic performance he'd witnessed, but now, as he sat alone in this private setting, the anticipation built again.

The door slid open, and the woman who had greeted him earlier entered, guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. Jing Yuan could now get a better look of you, the lingerie delicately adorns your body, the jewels that were placed on you still twinkled and shimmered under the dull lighting. Your fox ears were perked, stiff with nerves, and your tail swayed ever so slightly behind you, betraying your inner restlessness.

Your gaze never met his. You kept your head low, your expression unreadable, as if you'd become a different person. This wasn’t the confident, playful woman who’d mesmerized him with her dance. This was someone subdued, cautious, and perhaps even a little fragile. Jing Yuan’s brow furrowed at the sight, and a pang of something unfamiliar stirred within him. There was an undeniable sadness at the change, a realization that you were a contradiction, both in the freedom you’d shown during your dance and the restraint you now carried.

The woman who led you whispered softly to you as she passed by, "Take care of the general." Her voice was gentle but firm, as if entrusting something delicate to your care. She gave Jing Yuan a final look, a knowing smile before exiting the room, leaving the two of you in silence.

You stood in front of him, head lowered, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The air felt heavier now, the sense of being watched almost suffocating, yet you remained still, as though obeying some invisible rule.

Jing Yuan studied you for a moment, trying to piece together the shift in your demeanour. His mind, clouded with the memory of your dance, struggled to reconcile the two versions of you. His large, calloused fingers lifted from his side, brushing gently beneath your chin, his touch soft but insistent as he lifted your face to meet his.

"Why do you not make eye contact?" he asked, his voice low, his words smooth as they hung in the air. His gaze was intense, capturing you as he locked his eyes on yours. You could feel the weight of his stare, the depth of it, and it sent a flicker of something through you—surprise, confusion, maybe even fear.

You blinked rapidly, trying to avoid his gaze, but his touch lingered, a slight pressure against your chin. You quickly averted your eyes, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his attention.

"It is not allowed," you murmured softly, the words barely escaping your lips. "I am not allowed to look at the customer unless... unless told to."

Jing Yuan’s expression softened, but his curiosity remained, his gaze never leaving you as you stood before him, silent and restrained. His fingers remained on your chin, though no longer pressing, just gently resting there. He tilted his head slightly, considering your words. He couldn't help but be intrigued by the contradiction you presented: the woman who captivated an entire room with her dance now so reserved, so obedient.

"You are allowed to look at me," he said, his voice almost playful, though the undertone of command was still present. "But for now, I will permit your discretion."

There was a quiet pause between you both, as you silently struggled with the unspoken tension that now swirled in the room. Jing Yuan leaned back, his large frame sinking into the chair as he relaxed, his eyes never leaving you. "Come, sit with me," he said, motioning to the empty seat beside him. "Let us share a drink."

His invitation hung in the air like a challenge, but it was delivered with a calm, measured tone. You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to act, still feeling the pressure of his gaze as he observed you carefully. Finally, you took a cautious step forward, your body moving with the grace of a fox, and sat at his side, careful not to brush too close against him.

The room was filled with the scent of incense and flowers, but the closeness between the two of you heightened the atmosphere, thickening the air. Jing Yuan poured two glasses of wine, his movements slow, deliberate. He handed one to you, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, the touch felt more intimate than it should have.

"You have a beautiful presence," he said quietly, taking a sip of his own drink. "But I can see there is more to you than what you show. Tell me, what is it you desire, in a place like this?"

You remained silent, unsure of how to respond, but Jing Yuan didn’t rush you. His gaze held a quiet intensity, as if waiting for you to let down the walls you’d so carefully constructed around yourself. The tension between you both lingered, a palpable force, as your bodies sat close together yet distanced by invisible barriers. Your heartbeat faster, your breath shallow. This was new territory for both of you. And for Jing Yuan, it felt like the beginning of something far deeper than either of you had expected.

You shifted in your seat, thighs brushing together under the soft silk of your gown, the sensation sending a faint shiver through you. The air between you and Jing Yuan was thick, charged with an intensity you could neither name nor escape. His gaze was locked on you, and every question he asked felt like it was unravelling pieces of you.

"Why here?" he murmured, his voice smooth, like the finest silk. "A place like this—it doesn’t seem to match your spirit."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself twisting the fabric of your gown again, seeking some kind of anchor. "It’s... complicated," you whispered, your eyes darting away from his. But the way he leaned closer—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him—made it impossible to hide.

"Complicated," he echoed, his tone laced with curiosity, as though he wanted to peel back every layer of meaning behind your answer.

You glanced up at him, and your breath caught in your throat. His amber eyes glimmered in the dim light, soft but piercing, holding you captive in their gaze. And then, he leaned in further, the space between you shrinking until you could feel his presence, overwhelming and intoxicating.

The scent of him—clean and faintly spiced—mixed with the sweetness of the wine he sipped moments before. The aroma seemed to curl around you, tangling with your thoughts. His lips were so close now, and you couldn’t stop your gaze from flicking down to them.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a hushed murmur, and his eyes searched yours, waiting. It wasn’t a command, as you’d expect from a man like him, but a request, gentle yet brimming with restrained desire.

Your throat tightened, and you nodded slowly, words escaping you.

His hand came up, fingers grazing your cheek before curling under your chin, tilting your face toward his. The touch was warm, firm yet tender, sending sparks skittering along your skin. Slowly, achingly, he closed the distance.

When his lips met yours, the world fell away.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips, testing, coaxing. But then, like a flame catching the wind, it deepened. His mouth moved against yours with a slow-burning passion, drawing you in, leaving no room for hesitation. You felt the firm press of his lips, the intoxicating heat of him, and your heart thundered in your chest.

His hand slid from your chin to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking the edge of your cheekbone. It was such a careful gesture, but the kiss was anything but. His tongue swept against the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you yielded, parting your lips for him.

When his tongue slid against yours, a low hum of pleasure escaped you, your hands clutching at the silken folds of your gown as if it could keep you grounded. He tasted of wine, rich and heady, and the faintest hint of something sweeter, something entirely him.

His other hand moved to your waist, fingers splaying across the delicate fabric that barely covered you. The pressure was light, a silent promise of what could come, and yet it was enough to make your pulse race, your body alight with sensations you couldn’t control.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands tentatively brushing against his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath his robes. His lips moved with a practiced confidence, but there was something raw in the way he kissed you, like he was holding back a storm, giving you only a glimpse of the tempest that raged beneath.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just a breath away, his forehead resting lightly against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his.

"You’re... mesmerizing," he murmured, his voice rough and low, as though the words had been dragged from somewhere deep within him.

You opened your eyes, and his gaze bore into yours, intense and unyielding. His thumb brushed against your swollen lips, and you could see the faint flush dusting his cheeks, a rare crack in his usual composure.

"I’ve wanted to do that," he admitted, his voice softer now, "since the moment I saw you."

Your heart raced, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the weight of his confession crashing over you like a wave. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin, and you knew—this was only the beginning.

Jing Yuan’s hands were impossibly large, their warmth seeping through the sheer silk draped over your body as they slid down, slow and deliberate. His touch felt like a whispered promise, each fingertip tracing a path that left fire in its wake. You couldn’t help but shiver when his palms grazed the curve of your hips, his fingers splaying possessively over them as he was now on his knees between your thighs.

The silk clung to your skin like dew, yielding under his touch as his hands lingered, pressing into the plush softness of your thighs. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every second, every inch of you that he claimed. His thumb stroked a languid circle against your skin, teasing the sensitive flesh just below the curve of your hip, and your breath hitched.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety whisper that seemed to echo in the dim, scented air. His words held a teasing lilt, but his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with something far deeper than amusement.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of silk and the faint crackle of a distant candle. His hands moved lower, trailing down the sides of your thighs as if he were sculpting you from memory. He paused, his fingers flexing slightly, almost reverently, before sprawling over the fullness of your legs. The pressure was firm but not harsh, his touch grounding you even as it left you breathless.

Jing Yuan’s head tilted, his silver hair catching the dim light like threads of moonlight spun through shadow. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin, and his hands tightened their hold on you ever so slightly. The contrast of his strength and the tenderness in his touch made you feel both vulnerable and cherished, like a treasure he had no intention of letting slip away.

"You’re exquisite," he murmured, his voice soft yet weighted, as though the words carried a gravity only, he could understand. His thumbs traced upward, following the natural curve of your thighs, his hands mapping you with a deliberate slowness that felt like an exploration, a quiet devotion.

When his eyes flicked back to meet yours, his gaze was molten, heavy with desire yet tempered by something gentler, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. His hands stilled, settling like a question, a challenge, as if to ask how far you would let him go. And in that moment, you were weightless, caught in the intoxicating pull of him, the world beyond fading into nothingness.

Jing Yuan's fingers, warm and deliberate, slid down to the edge of your thigh highs, the lace soft under his touch. He let his fingertips dip beneath the delicate material, brushing against the bare skin beneath, sending shivers coursing through your body. The contrast of silk and skin was electrifying, his movements unhurried as though he had all the time in the world to explore.

Your breath hitched, and you gripped the silk of your gown, desperate for something to anchor yourself. The sensation of his hands so close, his strength tempered by the tender way he handled you, made your mind race. The General of the Luofu, a man revered for his authority and composure, was here, knelt before you, his hands on your thighs as though you were the centre of his universe.

His thumb traced lazy circles against your skin, the pressure both teasing and grounding. "You’re trembling again," he murmured, the teasing lilt of his voice sending a new wave of heat through you. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the soft, golden light, the contrast between his composed expression and the intimacy of his touch almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your thigh. It was a feather-light kiss, soft yet searing, and it stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his mouth lingered, a silent claim that left your heart pounding.

Your mind spiralled, the weight of the moment crashing over you like a tidal wave. This was the General—the General—his broad shoulders and imposing presence now knelt before you in an image that burned itself into your memory. The sight of him, his head bent, his lips on your skin, was something you knew you’d never forget.

Your pulse quickened as his hand slid higher, his palm pressing into the softness of your thigh with a deliberate slowness that made your body hum with awareness. He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes flicking upward to meet yours, his gaze heavy with something that made your heart stutter.

"You’re beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and rich, the words wrapping around you like silk. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you swallowed hard, feeling as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you. The scent of incense, the warmth of the dimly lit room, and the weight of his attention made it impossible to think of anything else.

Your breath hitched as his lips lingered against your skin, so close yet unbearably distant. A soft whimper escaped you, unbidden, the sound trembling on your lips. "General..." The word was barely a whisper, carried more by instinct than thought, but it was enough.

Jing Yuan’s golden eyes gleamed at the sound, a primal intensity overtaking his usual calm. That composed facade he wore so effortlessly cracked, revealing something raw and untamed beneath. His lips curved into a slow, almost predatory smile, and you felt the heat of his gaze burn against your skin.

He leaned closer, his broad shoulders dipping as his face moved towards your clothed pussy, the faintest warmth of his breath ghosting over the flimsy material of it. The sensation was maddening, a tantalising promise that made your thighs tense under his hold.

Your ears twitched uncontrollably, betraying your spiralling emotions. You tried to steady them, but they betrayed you with every sharp intake of breath. Your tail curled and flicked at the edges of the plush cushions beneath you, the movement erratic, mirroring the storm building in your chest.

Jing Yuan noticed everything—of course, he did. His gaze flicked to your twitching ears, and the corner of his mouth quirked, a dark satisfaction dancing in his eyes. His hands remained steady, sprawling over the plush of your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to ground you while still making your skin tingle.

"You’re so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air. "It’s captivating."

The warmth of his breath fanned over the delicate fabric again, sending a shiver racing up your spine. He paused, his lips so close yet maddeningly still, his eyes watching every tremble, every twitch, every unsteady exhale. You felt utterly laid bare beneath his gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and desire tangling in a way that left you breathless.

"Tell me,” he said softly, the words a mere whisper against the heat of your skin. "Do you always react this beautifully... or is it just for me?"

Your entire body felt as though it had been set alight, the heat rushing from your cheeks to the very tips of your ears as Jing Yuan's lips hovered ever so teasingly over your cunt. The blush that painted your skin deepened, spreading like wildfire, your hands clutching the silken material beneath you in an effort to steady yourself.

And then, his lips pressed softly against your pussy—through the delicate fabric that barely served as a barrier. The kiss was unhurried yet deliberate, and the sensation made you gasp, your heart leaping into your throat. Your thighs quivered slightly beneath his strong, steady grip as your body betrayed the flood of emotions overtaking you.

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, the scent of you filling his senses as though nothing else in the world existed. Sweet and heady, with a potency that made his mind spiral, it was unlike anything he had imagined—and oh, had he imagined. His fingers curled slightly against your skin as if grounding himself from the overwhelming allure.

The sweetness of it mingled with something darker, more intoxicating, and utterly unique to you. It was pungent but not overpowering—an earthy, sensual fragrance that clung to the air around you and pulled him deeper into the haze you created.

His breaths grew heavier, his mind clouding as the scent wrapped around him like an invisible tether, binding him to you in a way that felt both maddening and necessary.

"Addictive," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the single word almost swallowed by the quiet intimacy of the room. His lips brushed against you once more, this time lingering a second longer, his tongue darting out briefly to taste the fabric.

A groan rumbled deep in his chest, and his grip on your thighs tightened ever so slightly, his composure slipping as he inhaled deeply again, utterly consumed by the fragrance of you. His golden eyes, now darkened with something primal and insatiable, flickered up to meet yours—a blush still staining your cheeks, your wide-eyed gaze unsure and yet filled with undeniable need.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed firmly yet gently against the thin fabric, a deliberate movement that sent shockwaves coursing through your body. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, the warmth and softness of his mouth combining with the teasing pressure to ignite every nerve in your skin. Your toes curled instinctively, the sheer intensity of the moment leaving you breathless, as though the air itself had thickened.

His large hands, splayed across your trembling thighs, gripped you tighter, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh in a way that left you aching for more. The contrast of his strength against your vulnerability only heightened the whirlwind of sensations overtaking you. He groaned softly, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through you, as if he too was succumbing to the weight of his desires.

Jing Yuan’s gaze lifted, drinking in every detail of you. The flush that coloured your cheeks, spreading down your neck and disappearing beneath the thin fabric of your gown. The way strands of your hair had fallen loose, framing your face like a delicate painting. The rise and fall of your chest as your breath quickened, each exhale shaky and unsteady.

He felt an unrelenting need to unravel you, to witness you laid bare, in every sense of the word. His hands moved slightly, his thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin, grounding you and driving you to the edge all at once.

His tongue pressed against the fabric again, this time with more insistence, and his lips followed with a lingering kiss. The heat of his breath seeped through, and it felt as though he was marking you with each touch, his presence imprinted on your very soul.

“Do you feel it?” he asked softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours as his hands squeezed your thighs again. “The way I want to devour you—piece by piece—until there’s nothing left of this composure we’re pretending to hold on to?”

Jing Yuan's grip on your thigh loosened as he let his hand slip away, only to settle firmly on your shoulder. The weight of his touch grounded you, but the intensity in his golden gaze sent your mind spiralling into chaos. His other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, two fingers brushing against the fabric that separated him from you, as though he were savouring the act of uncovering you.

He pushed the fabric aside, exposing your glistening skin beneath. The air felt cool against the heat of your pussy, and the juxtaposition made you shiver. Your scent—intoxicating, sweet, and unmistakably you—filled the space between you, strong and pungent in a way that made his breath hitch. His eyes could not leave the sight of your cunt, your clit throbbing, clear liquid oozing from between your glistening folds as he glances at your face, lips swollen and eyes teary – a sight that made his cock leak.

His eyes darkened, a glimmer of something primal flickering in their depths as he took you in. You were fluttering, every part of you trembling in anticipation, and it made his lips curl into a faint, knowing smile.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, yet laced with raw hunger.

His hand tightened slightly on thigh, grounding you further, while his gaze remained fixed on you as though you were the most captivating sight he had ever encountered. The vulnerability in the moment only seemed to embolden him, and the way his breath fanned against your exposed skin made your thighs tremble under his hold.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed against your clit, lapping up the sweetness that spilled from you with a deliberate, unrelenting pace. The warmth of his mouth against such a sensitive part of you was overwhelming, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through your body. His eyes, golden and intense, never strayed from your face, watching every twitch of your expression, every blush that spread across your cheeks, and every soft whimper that escaped your lips.

A low hum of approval resonated from him, vibrating against your core as he worked, his large hands gripping your thighs firmly to hold you in place. Each stroke of his tongue was purposeful, slow at first, then more insistent, as though he were a man on the brink of starvation, and you were the feast he'd been denied for far too long.

Your fingers clawed at the leather couch beneath you, the cool material a stark contrast to the heat building inside you. Your hips bucked slightly against his face, but his strong grip kept you steady, his mouth never faltering.

"General..." you whimpered softly, the word barely audibles through the haze of sensation.

At that, his eyes gleamed with a feral satisfaction, something primal and wild flickering within them. He groaned softly, the sound muffled as he devoured you, his tongue exploring every inch with unyielding hunger. The sight of him—so composed, so regal—reduced to this raw, unrestrained desire sent your mind spinning, leaving you trembling under his touch.

Jing Yuan's tongue dragged deliberately against your slick folds, his pace torturous yet intoxicating. Without a word, two of his thick fingers slid down, pressing against your entrance before sinking into you without warning. The stretch was immediate, a mix of pleasure and intensity that tore a loud whimper from your lips. Your body arched into his touch, thighs trembling uncontrollably as your breath hitched.

"General... General..." The title fell from your lips in a broken chant, each syllable a prayer as your mind spiralled. Nothing else existed beyond the overwhelming sensations he wrought upon your body—his tongue flicking expertly up and down your slick heat, his lips closing around the sensitive bud that made your vision blur.

His fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your entire body jolt. He pressed into it mercilessly, dragging a sob from your throat as your thighs quaked against his face. His other hand gripped your thigh tightly, holding you still as he worked with relentless precision.

The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue and fingers filled the air, mingling with your soft cries and whimpers. Your world narrowed to the molten heat pooling low in your belly, each flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers sending you closer to the edge.

He sucked on the swollen bundle of nerves, his tongue circling with maddening skill. You sobbed his name again, your thighs trembling, your body barely able to keep up with the intensity of his actions. Through the haze, you felt the curve of his lips against you—a smirk, as though he took pride in unravelling you completely.

Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill as a tight knot in your stomach coiled and twisted unbearably. Each thrust of Jing Yuan's fingers pressed against that devastating spot inside you, sending shockwaves through your trembling frame. Your eyes rolled back, a broken cry escaping your lips as the tension snapped, pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave.

Your entire body quivered, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as the release tore through you, leaving you gasping and breathless. But Jing Yuan didn't stop. His fingers maintained their relentless rhythm, coaxing you through the aftershocks, prolonging every moment of your bliss.

You felt his warm tongue, soft yet firm, trailing along your folds as he licked up every drop of your release. His eyes, golden and piercing, never left your face. He seemed captivated by the way your lips parted, the flush painting your cheeks, the glazed look in your eyes.

"You're beautiful," he murmured softly, his voice thick with reverence and desire, the words vibrating against your sensitive skin as he placed a soft kiss against your fluttering clit. His gaze was heavy with pride and satisfaction, as though committing the sight of you undone to memory. He slowly moves up your body, Jing Yuan’s lips traced a delicate path up your neck, each soft kiss like a whispered secret against your skin. The air between you thickened with warmth, every subtle movement drawing you deeper into the moment. He paused just below your ear, his breath mingling with yours, before he reached out for the bottle of alcohol and took a slow, deliberate swig of the sweet alcohol. He placed the bottle down and he finally met your gaze, something unspoken passed between you.

With a gentle but firm pull, he lifted you, as if in a trance, and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender at first, like a soft brush of silk, but then it deepened, becoming something slower, more languid. The sweet taste of the alcohol seeped into your mouth, dribbling out of the corner of your lip as you moaned when his tongue brushed against yours, the alcohol, sweet and intoxicating with the taste of your essences mingled between your tongues, each shared taste adding to the heat building between you. He tasted you and you tasted him, the kiss a slow, sensual exchange, each second stretching out as if the world outside ceased to exist.

You could feel the warmth of the alcohol in your veins, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through your chest as his hands held you close, pulling you deeper into him. The kiss deepened, became more desperate, yet still slow—each movement deliberate, a beautiful rhythm of lips and tongue, a dance that belonged only to the two of you. Time seemed to stretch, the room fading away as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the moment, the alcohol, and the slow burn of his kiss.

Jing Yuan’s lips lingered against yours for a moment longer, his breath warm on your skin, before he slowly pulled away. His tongue tracing the bit of alcohol that dribbled out of your mouth, gaze intense and molten. The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat, leaving you suspended in the air between his touch and his gaze. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited, uncertain of what he might do next, but instead of drawing you back into his embrace, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gentle gesture so tender it made your breath catch in your throat.

He pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, and in that moment, there was a strange, knowing calm about him. “Thank you for the... meal,” he said, his voice low, smooth, and unhurried, as though savouring the taste of the drink, you and the moment.

His words hung in the air, unexpected and enigmatic. The meal? You blinked, a flush creeping up your neck, your heart fluttering in confusion. Was that truly all he wanted from you? Was it just a fleeting moment, a passing indulgence?

Your gaze dropped to his chest, your eyes tracing the contours of his form—strong, unwavering. His shirt clung to him in a way that made you acutely aware of the man standing before you. And then, your gaze caught something—he was...

Your breath caught, and your eyes snapped back up to his, meeting his with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. But he only smiled softly, almost like he understood the storm brewing within you, before gently reaching up to pat your head, a small, affectionate gesture that sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your hair, making your fox ears twitch involuntarily. The touch was so casual, yet somehow it deepened the flush that spread across your face, your heart racing at the intimacy of the moment. It was a small, almost teasing action, but it made you feel as though you were suddenly laid bare in front of him.

His smile softened, his eyes warm yet impossibly distant, as though he were saying goodbye without words. “I enjoyed your company,” he said, the weight of his words settling between you like an unspoken promise that felt both comforting and impossible to decipher. “I will be anticipating another dance soon, until than darling.” His voice smooth as honey, your face turning crimson at the word ‘darling’.

His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer, filled with a complexity you couldn't understand, before he turned and left the private area. The soft sound of his footsteps faded, but his presence remained, lingering in the air, as if he had never really left at all.

You stood there, the room suddenly feeling too large, too empty. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ The question echoed in your mind, drowning out the quiet hum of the space. He had seemed so... needy, as though there was something more. And yet, now he was gone, leaving you with nothing but his words and the warmth of his touch.

Why didn’t he want more? You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was left unfinished, the desire you felt mirrored in the air between you. Why had he stopped? Why hadn't he sought what you had both seemed to crave? It was as if your body had been aching for something deeper, and yet he had held back.

As the silence grew heavier, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. The owner stepped inside; her voice sweet like honey but with an edge that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re done for the night,” she said, her smile thin but knowing. “You can go home now.” Confusion clouded your thoughts. “But... I thought you only let me go after twelve?”

The owner’s smile grew, as though your question amused her. “I won’t be needing you until I call for you,” she replied, her tone light but filled with something more. A finality? You weren’t sure. The words left you unsettled, uncertain of what she truly meant.

She reached into her pocket and handed you something—a silky pouch. The weight of it felt strange in your hand. “Here’s your pay from the General,” she said, her voice dripping with a sort of satisfaction that you couldn't place. “You sure did make him happy.”

Your mind whirled. Made him happy? The words bounced in your skull, unanswered questions stirring within you like a storm. What had just happened? What had you been to him? The idea of him leaving with only that—just that—felt like a question mark lingering in the air. He had seemed so close, so wanting, and yet he left.

The thought of the lingering kiss, the sweet warmth of the alcohol shared between you both, made your chest ache. He had left with a soft smile, but you couldn't shake the sense of something unfinished, something unspoken. Had you misread the moment? As you looked down at the silky pouch, the weight of it felt more symbolic than ever. The pay was there, yes, but the ache, the unanswered longing in your chest—it was something deeper, something that the money couldn't soothe.

The owner’s grin widened as she stepped back, her eyes gleaming with that same knowing look. You were left with the pouch, your heart full of questions, but no answers.

Jing Yuan hadn’t been himself lately, and he knew it. No matter how many duties he fulfilled or how much paperwork he completed or the many sneaky naps he took, his thoughts consistently drifted back to you. He couldn’t erase the memory of your skin beneath his hands—soft and warm, the kind of touch that lingered even after parting. Nor could he forget the taste of you, intoxicating and sweet, or the way your body moved with such elegance and allure during your dances.

It had been nearly a month since Jing Yuan began seeking you out, yet with each encounter, his fascination deepened into an obsession. He couldn’t get enough of you—the way you moved, the sound of your voice, the way your presence filled the room and consumed his thoughts. After every performance, he would reward you in ways that left you trembling, his mouth devoutly working between your thighs, tongue lapping at every drop of your arousal as his fingers thrust deeply into your slick heat. Yet, he never allowed you to touch him, never let you return the favour. His pleasure came solely from your moans, the way your body responded to his touch, and the sight of your unravelling beneath him. He would grind against his own restraint, rutting against his pants, hard and aching, but never crossing the line. He wanted to wait for the perfect moment, the right time to claim you fully—a moment that would be as unforgettable as you were to him.

It wasn’t just your beauty that consumed him, though it had ensnared him first. It was the quiet calmness you exuded, a soft-spoken grace that contrasted so deeply with the fire of your movements. The way your tail swayed behind you, how your ears twitched in subtle reaction to the world around you—it was as if you were always caught between serenity and mischief. The thought of you was a constant hum in his mind, an ache he could not shake.

He found himself wandering the streets of the city more often now – much to Fu xuan dismissal, hoping to find distractions from you. Yet even his usual escapes held no relief. And today was no exception.

As he strolled through Aurum Alley, the faint clinking of porcelain caught his ear, drawing his attention to a small tea shop tucked into the corner. He stepped inside, the familiar scents of herbs and dried flowers wafting over him, soothing but unremarkable—until his eyes fell on you.

You were standing near the back, your head tilted slightly as you admired the display of teacups arranged on a low wooden shelf. The dim lantern light cast a golden glow over you, highlighting the soft fur of your ears and the elegant sweep of your tail swaying absently behind you. You were dressed in a delicate white dress, its

fabric light and airy, brushing against your knees with every movement. The dress was adorned with tiny floral embroidery, dainty and unassuming, much like the way you carried yourself.

Jing Yuan’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected to see you here, not outside the confines of your world of silk and candlelight. Here, you looked softer, more natural, yet no less captivating. It was a sight that made his chest tighten, as if the universe had conspired to remind him that you were always just out of reach.

You seemed unaware of his presence, your attention wholly captured by a teacup you held delicately in your hands. It was a beautiful piece, adorned with intricate floral designs, vines curling around painted blossoms, the base glimmering faintly with gold. You turned it slowly in your fingers, your tail swishing with a faint, almost wistful rhythm.

The sight of you, so enraptured by something so simple, made his heart clench. And when you set the cup back down with a small, defeated sigh, it took all of his willpower not to close the distance between you immediately.

Instead, he lingered, watching as you hesitated, your fingers brushing against the rim of the cup one last time before you turned away. Jing Yuan didn’t need to guess why you’d left it behind—the soft downturn of your lips told him everything.

He stepped forward then, his presence a shadow that fell over you before his voice, low and smooth, broke the silence.

“Admiring something, are we?”

You startled, your ears twitching at the sound. Turning to face him, your eyes widened briefly before you quickly averted your gaze. “Oh, General,” you murmured, your hands clasping nervously in front of you. “I didn’t see you there.”

He allowed himself a small smile, though his golden eyes remained fixed on you. “It’s a charming shop, isn’t it? Something here seems to have caught your attention.”

You hesitated, glancing toward the shelf where the teacup sat. “It’s nothing,” you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “Just a pretty cup. I was… just admiring it.”

“Just admiring it?” Jing Yuan repeated, stepping closer, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between you. “And yet, you look as though you’ve left a piece of your heart behind with it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you shook your head. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not something I can…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely, unwilling to say the words aloud.

Jing Yuan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—part amusement, part something darker. “A beauty such as that shouldn’t be left behind,” he said, his voice dropping lower, softer, as though he were speaking to himself as much as to you. “Nor should one such as you.”

Before you could respond, he moved, his hand reaching out to lift the teacup from the shelf. With a smooth motion, he turned toward the shopkeeper, the transaction over before you could protest.

“General—”

“Consider it a gift,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind as he handed the cup to you. His fingers brushed yours as you took it, the brief contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, clutching the cup to your chest. Your tail swished nervously behind you; your ears flattened slightly as you avoided his gaze.

Jing Yuan watched you with a quiet intensity, his smile never faltering. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, his mind raced. Seeing you here, holding something he’d given you, made something primal stir within him. You were no longer just a fleeting obsession, no longer a memory confined to dimly lit nights. You were here, real and tangible, and he wasn’t sure he could ever let you go.

Jing Yuan couldn’t help himself. The moment you stepped outside the tea shop, clutching the intricately designed cup he had bought for you, he was already glancing back at the shelves. He ended up purchasing an assortment of things—fine tea leaves, a brewing set that complemented your cup, and even a small silk pouch embroidered with a motif. It wasn’t about the items themselves; it was the thought of you using them, of you remembering this moment, that drove his actions.

He exited the shop with a bag in hand, catching up to you with ease. The sun cast a warm glow on the cobblestone streets, and your figure seemed to glow in the light. Your white dress fluttered softly with each step, and your tail swayed gently behind you, a detail he couldn’t help but admire.

“You didn’t have to get more,” you said softly, glancing at the bag he carried.

He chuckled, his deep voice warm. “It’s no trouble at all. Tea is best enjoyed with care, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, you deserve nothing but the finest.”

Your cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and you glanced away, your ears twitching. “Thank you… General.”

“Jing Yuan,” he corrected smoothly, his golden eyes gleaming. “When it’s just us, there’s no need for formalities.”

You hesitated but nodded. “Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

As you walked together, he took the opportunity to get to know you better. It started with small questions—your favourite teas, if you frequented the shop often—but soon, the conversation deepened. He found out that you were passionate about dance, your eyes lighting up as you spoke about it, despite the soft-spoken nature of your words.

“It’s always been something I loved,” you admitted, your fingers brushing the edge of the teacup you still held. “But… the work I do now, it’s not exactly what I envisioned.”

“Oh?” he prompted, his gaze sharp but gentle, encouraging you to continue.

You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the path ahead. “The dancing I do now… it’s to pay off my father’s debts. It’s… different from the dancing I dreamed of as a child.”

Jing Yuan’s jaw tightened, though his expression remained calm. The thought of you, someone so poised and graceful, burdened by another’s mistakes, ignited a protective streak within him. He didn’t press further, sensing you weren’t ready to elaborate, but the knowledge lingered in his mind like a seed waiting to take root.

When the time came for you to part ways, you stopped at a small intersection, turning to face him. Your hands clutched the teacup tightly, your expression shy but sincere. “Thank you again, Jing Yuan. For everything.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, his golden gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I’ll see you later,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. You blinked, your cheeks heating up as you realised what he meant. You gave him a small, flustered nod before quickly excusing yourself, your tail swishing nervously as you hurried away.

Jing Yuan watched you go, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He would see you later, of course, but not just as part of a crowd. No, when you danced tonight, it would be for him, and he would make sure you knew it.

The brothel exuded an even more sinful opulence. Red and gold fabrics draped like cascading rivers of silk from the high, arching ceilings. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of sandalwood incense, mingling with the faint sweetness of lotus blossoms arranged in ornate porcelain vases. The walls were adorned with intricate scrolls of calligraphy, their elegant strokes illuminated by the flickering glow of countless candles. Every corner seemed steeped in temptation, every detail carefully crafted to blur the lines between reality and indulgence.

Jing Yuan sat alone in a private room; a sanctuary veiled by velvet curtains. The plush cushions beneath him did little to ease the tension coiled in his body. A lacquered tray before him held untouched tea and delicate fruit, but his golden gaze never wavered from the stage below. The brothel’s ambiance—a sultry blend of murmurs, soft music, and rustling silks—faded to nothing as you stepped into the spotlight.

Your presence commanded every eye in the room, but his was the only gaze you truly felt. You were a vision of raw, untamed allure. The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, sheer fabrics clinging to your every curve, your skin gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat under the dim, golden light. Crimson painted your lips, a bold invitation, while the smoky shadow around your eyes framed them like a weapon. Your tail swayed with each step, teasing, enticing, an extension of the sensual rhythm that seemed to pulse from your very being.

The music began, slow and sultry, and you moved with a deliberate grace, every step a calculated seduction. Your hips swayed in time with the haunting melody, and the way your hands glided over your body had the audience mesmerized. To him, however, it was something more—a torment, a fire that spread through his veins and pooled low in his stomach.

Jing Yuan’s usually serene expression was gone, replaced by a raw intensity that darkened his golden eyes. He leaned forward, his broad shoulders filling the dimly lit alcove as his focus narrowed solely on you. His fingers tightened on the armrest, his chest rising and falling in steady, heavy breaths. The soft sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the subtle arch of your back, the sway of your hips—it was more than he could bear, yet he couldn’t look away.

The room disappeared for him; the murmured conversations, the soft laughter, the flickering candles—all of it was drowned out by you. Every slow, sensual turn, every flick of your tail, every teasing brush of your fingers across your skin seemed crafted solely for him.

When your eyes lifted and met his, just for a moment, the tension snapped taut. That fleeting connection sent a visceral thrill through him, a silent challenge in the way you quickly looked away. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. The denial—the way you teased and withheld even your gaze—was maddening.

You spun again, your bold crimson lips parting as though whispering secrets to the air, your hands brushing over the curve of your waist. The sheer fabric clinging to your body teased him mercilessly, every contour revealed in the flickering candlelight. His golden gaze roamed over you hungrily, his breaths deep and deliberate as if trying to anchor himself against the storm of desire you had unleashed.

The sweat glistening on your thighs, the way your hair clung to your neck, the confident arch of your body—it was intoxicating. Jing Yuan could feel the heat rising

within him, his control slipping with every second. You were temptation incarnate, and he was utterly, completely ensnared.

Jing Yuan's hand moved to rest against his thigh, but the tension in his body betrayed the calm demeanour he fought to maintain. His fingers flexed, slowly drifting, palm pressing lightly against the growing ache beneath the rich fabric of his robes. The weight of his breath was deliberate, measured, but his chest rose and fell with an intensity that mirrored the fire coursing through him.

His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, devouring. The way you moved-every sway of your hips, every arch of your back, every tantalizing flick of your tail-was an exquisite torment.

You were more than a dancer; you were an artist, painting desire across the room with your body as the brush and the music as your canvas. The strain in his muscles was palpable, his golden eyes darkening with an unspoken hunger. Yet even amidst his rising heat, there was admiration- appreciation for the elegance and mastery of your movements. The way your body told a story, the way your presence commanded the room, it was more than alluring; it was transcendent.

But the intensity of his desire could not be denied. The hardness beneath his robes grew, a throbbing reminder of the effect you had on him. His jaw tightened as his fingers pressed harder, a fleeting attempt at control. Every step you took, every glance you spared his way, only served to unravel the restraint he so desperately clung to. Jing Yuan's breath hitched, his usually steady composure unravelling. The beauty of your art left him enraptured, the sensuality of your dance leaving his mind clouded, his body heavy with need. You were a siren, and he was helpless against your call, a prisoner to the exquisite torment you inflicted upon him.

As your performance came to its crescendo, the room seemed to hold its breath. The music faded into the background, muffled by the pulse pounding in Jing Yuan’s ears. His hand twitched against his thigh, his entire body taut with unrestrained tension as you stepped down from the platform. Each movement you made was deliberate, a purposeful seduction that left his chest heaving, his golden eyes drinking in every detail of you.

And finally, you were upstairs in the room with him.

The space between you closed, and Jing Yuan felt his pulse quicken, a rare break in his usual calm demeanour. His fingers clenched briefly before releasing, as if bracing himself for the storm that was you. You stopped just shy of his seat, your eyes meeting his, bold and teasing, yet softened by something unreadable. The flick of your tail and the slight quirk of your lips only stoked the fire inside him further.

He didn’t wait.

Rising from his seat in one fluid motion, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His large hands found your waist, pulling you to him with a fervour that left no room for hesitation. The moment his lips met yours, it was as though the world fell away. The kiss was urgent, demanding, and possessive. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fire and hunger, consuming and overwhelming.

His lips pressed against yours like a man starved, tasting, exploring, memorizing every inch of you. One hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, while the other splayed firmly across your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lower lip before slipping inside to claim more of you.

The taste of you was intoxicating, a heady mix that made his restraint crumble. Every small sound you made—a whimper, a sigh—drove him further into madness. The way your soft hands gripped his robes, clutching at him like he was your anchor, only fuelled his need to devour you whole.

Jing Yuan’s mind raced; his thoughts consumed by you. The way you moved, the way you felt pressed against him, the way you yielded under his touch—it was all too much and yet not enough. His hold tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin, as if trying to etch the memory of this moment into his soul.

He wanted more.

No, he wanted everything.

The desire coursing through him wasn’t just lust—it was something far deeper, more consuming. He wanted to know every part of you, to uncover the layers of your soul as thoroughly as he wanted to explore your body. The thought of you with anyone else sent a possessive heat surging through him, and the idea of keeping you close, of having you as his, was a temptation too powerful to ignore.

He broke the kiss only when breathing became a necessity, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. His breaths were ragged, his chest heaving, but his hands never left you, as though afraid you might vanish if he let go.

“You’re driving me mad,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. His golden eyes bore into yours, intense and filled with something that bordered on obsession. “Do you know what you do to me? How every moment I spend away from you feels like an eternity?”

You didn’t respond—not with words. Instead, your lips found his again, softer this time but no less heated, as though silently answering his unspoken question.

Jing Yuan’s grip softened, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted the fervent need in his kiss. He pulled back just enough to study your face, his gaze tracing every feature as though committing it to memory.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with that same raw intensity. “But I’ll show you. One day, I’ll show you.”

The promise lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, as he held you close, the room around you fading into nothingness. For now, in this moment, you were his entire world.

Jing Yuan's gaze darkened as his hands slipped to the hem of your lingerie top, his breath heavy, his movements deliberate. With a fluid motion, he pushed the delicate fabric up and off, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His eyes lingered, golden and molten, as though the sight of you alone was enough to undo him completely.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with reverence and desire.

Before you could reply, his lips descended, capturing one pert nipple between them, his tongue swirling feverishly. He suckled with an intensity that left no doubt of his hunger, his large hand cupping your other breast, kneading, and teasing. Every soft moan and gasp that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on, his groans vibrating against your skin as he lavished attention upon you.

His kisses trailed down, wet and open-mouthed, over the curve of your stomach, lingering at your navel before he retraced his path back up. His lips found yours again, searing and demanding, his hands never leaving your body, holding you as if you were a treasure he refused to let go.

Without a word, Jing Yuan sank down into his chair, his strong form commanding even in the act of sitting. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly to place you astride his thick thigh.

The moment your clothed pussy settled against him; his sharp inhale betrayed just how much he could feel. The thin fabric separating your body from his was soaked with your arousal, a warm, damp heat that sent a pulse of need through him.

"You’re already so wet for me," he rumbled, his voice a deep, velvety growl. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you to grind against his thigh. "Go on. Show me how much you want this."

The friction was delicious, the firmness of his thigh pressing against your most sensitive spot. Your hands clung to his broad shoulders for balance, your body moving instinctively to his rhythm.

Jing Yuan’s eyes never left you, his intense gaze locked on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure. His lips quirked into a sinful smirk as he watched you lose yourself, your breath hitching, your movements growing more desperate.

"Good girl," he murmured, his words a heady mix of praise and possession. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you faster, harder, his own breath growing heavier as he watched you unravel. "Let me see everything. Don’t hold back."

You trembled in his lap, your soft, perky nipples pebbled from the cool air and the intensity of his gaze. Jing Yuan’s large hands skimmed down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His golden eyes flicked lower, settling on the thin scrap of fabric that barely covered your most intimate place.

The sight made his breath hitch—a damp patch spreading across the delicate fabric, clinging to the shape of your pussy lips, leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. The thin barrier split against the firm muscle of his thigh, framing you in a way that sent his thoughts spiralling.

Jing Yuan's jaw tightened, his head tilting back for a moment as he groaned low and deep. The image of your leaking cunt pulled taut around his thick cock flashed unbidden in his mind, the mere thought causing his grip on your plush hips to tighten.

"Not yet," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, his restraint hanging by a thread. His arousal throbbed painfully beneath his robes, but he refused to let the tension break—refused to give in until he had you entirely, in the only way he could truly claim you.

His hands flexed against your flesh, fingers sinking into the soft curves as he guided you to move against his thigh again. His golden eyes burned with raw want, but there was something deeper there—something possessive, primal, and utterly consuming.

"You’ll have me, but not like this," he rasped, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and heavy. "The only way I’ll give you my seed is when I’m inside you. Completely. Do you understand?"

The words sent a shiver through you, your body trembling even more as his intent settled over you like a tangible weight. You nodded, unable to form words, lost in the way his hands and his voice claimed every part of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as Jing Yuan’s strong hands gripped your hips, roughly guiding you against the firm muscle of his thigh. Each drag of your soaked core over the thick fabric sent shockwaves through your body, your clit throbbing with an ache so overwhelming it made your head spin. You clung to his broad shoulders, gasping for air, your cries a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Jing Yuan’s mouth found the delicate curve of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he sucked hard, determined to leave a mark—a vivid bloom that declared you his. The sting only heightened the sensations coursing through you, and your moans spurred him on, his movements growing fiercer, more relentless.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice sending a tremor down your spine. His golden eyes, darkened with unrestrained hunger, never left your face, drinking in every reaction, every sound, every shudder of your body.

Your back arched, a broken cry spilling from your lips as the tension in your core snapped. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as your release soaked through the flimsy fabric barely clinging on you. Jing Yuan’s large hand splayed across your lower back, holding you steady, his grip firm yet comforting as he guided you through your climax.

You collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling. Your underwear, a soaking mess as Jing Yuan’s arms enveloped you, his large hands moving gently now, one rubbing soothing circles along your back.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, a stark contrast to the possessive fire that had consumed him moments before. “I’ve got you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, the touch grounding you as you nestled into his embrace, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Jing Yuan’s hand glided gently along the soft, velvety fur of your tail; his touch light yet deliberate. A small, breathless whine escaped your parted lips, your cheeks warming as you instinctively nuzzled into the solid warmth of his chest. His scent, calming yet intoxicating, filled your senses, easing the tension in your body while making your heart race.

“M-My tail... it’s sensitive, Jing Yuan,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, shy and muffled against him.

He paused, his golden eyes glinting with curiosity as a faint smirk curved his lips. “I see,” he replied simply, his tone smooth, holding an edge of playfulness. Instead of lingering, his hand shifted to rest on your back, his large palm moving in slow, soothing circles. Though his touch remained comforting, the knowing look in his gaze hinted that he had filed away this discovery for some other time.

All Jing Yuan wanted, with every fibre of his being, was to bury himself deep into the irresistible warmth of your slick, aching pussy, to lose himself entirely in the pleasure you could give him. But he could not—not yet. Not when he knew you deserved more than just raw passion. He wanted to show you his devotion; to prove he was a man worthy of claiming you fully.

His chest rose and fell with effort as he reined in the primal urges clawing at his restraint. The soft tremble of your body against his own pulled him back to the present, grounding him in the tender moment.

Jing Yuan’s large hand moved to thread gently through your hair, his fingers combing through the strands with a soothing rhythm. “You did so well,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. His other hand continued to rub light circles on your back, coaxing you to relax as your breathing slowly evened out.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his golden eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” he asked, the question tender, yet filled with an underlying intensity that promised this was not a mere casual invitation.

The warmth of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter. You blinked up at him, dazed and blushing, but managed a shy nod, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, already envisioning how he would make the evening one you would never forget.

Author’s Note:

Part 2 ? Dinner turns into a full-on session of raw fucking cause reader got her heat ? :3

reblogs, likes, comments, and follows are highly appreciated <3

also check out my masterlist if u are interested in any of my other works <3

[angelssmvse]

𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇𝙎 𝙂𝙊 𝙏𝙊 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙉

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝙁𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙔𝙃𝙀𝙒 𝙓 𝙁𝙀𝙈 !𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝜗𝜚 (smut)

𝜗𝜚 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔 The ordinary girl, always abiding by the rules—so innocent and pure. But sometimes, stepping outside those boundaries can be a good thing, can't it? And Father Charlie is about to show you how. (P.S. he’s gentle with you)

𝜗𝜚 𝘼/𝙉 So recently I made this edit and oh God I had this urge to write a smut — and please feel free to send me any requests. Enjoy, angels<3 ( click here to watch the edit )

𝜗𝜚 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 smut! minors DNI. This narrative contains mature themes and explicit content, including strong language, depictions of violence, adult situations (smut), and elements of both humor and tenderness. Reader discretion is advised.

It's been months since you and Father Charlie began talking and spending time together. Your conversations often revolve around beliefs, modern society, and even psychology. Yet, what intrigues you both the most is uncovering each other's thoughts and understanding what truly goes on in each other's minds.

You always saw him as the mysterious type of man—the kind you’d chase despite knowing he’d probably hurt you.

And then there was you. God, he hated you. To him, you were almost angelic, divine in every sense, as though you’d barely sinned a day in your life. Your eyes held a magnetic pull, and your presence was undeniably comforting.

He was a mess, yet somehow, you managed to understand him—at least in part—and soothe his anger.

“The desires of the flesh do not come from the Father…but from the world,” Father Charlie intones, his voice steady as he reads from the Bible in his hands. “But in the end,” he continues, setting the Bible down on the nearest surface, “we are all…” — “Sinners,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “So fuck it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

In an instant, you find yourself pressed down onto his bed, his body over yours, his lips claiming yours in a fervent kiss. The kiss deepens, the atmosphere grows charged, your heart pounds, and your bodies remain entwined.

He gently positions himself as he slowly begins to move, you arch your back towards him in pleasure, softly moaning holding his defined shoulders as your nails dig into the skin causing it to bleed. He growls taking your wrists and holding them tight to keep you still “Father-“ you whimper, he shuts you up by kissing you, your tongues dancing as he quickens up his pace.

Father Charlie felt your climax building up and your walls tightening around him, “Fuck…” he whimpers in pleasure drowning himself in the crook of your shoulder; kissing your soft skin and leaving trails of love marks behind as he goes on.

Tears began to fall down your cheeks, your legs tight around him letting you come. He finishes and collapses on top of you, his lips brushing softly against your skin. Your hands, now free, move to the back of his head as you gently play with his hair. "Hey now," he chuckles, lifting himself slightly to meet your gaze.

You both savored every moment—every second spent together. But was it wrong…this feeling?

Copyright © angelssmvse 2024 — I own only this story; please do not copy nor translate without permission or proper attribution. I give credit for the character Father Charlie Mayhew from the series "Grotesquerie" by Ryan Murphy. This is the only platform where I have published the story.

[puphoods]

ive only seen bits and pieces of what happened to predesterone, i know they got deleted (at least twice) and the ceo is making defamatory statements about them, but im genuinely confused as to where I could find this all going down. if u dont wanna gather links or whatever i get it its just that everything popped up on my dash suddenly and i want to know whats happening but i dont know how to find out

theres obviously a lot of people posting rn but ill try to get some links together to sum it up as best i can find- keep in mind i never followed her myself and only distantly knew of her so there are people closer to the situation that probably have more stuff they can tell you though, and searching her url(s) has a lot of info

avery has i think two blogs deleted yeah, unsure about any older ones but predstrogen and avewy/predesterone were both deleted very recently

predstrogen (the first blog) was allegedly deleted for "sexually explicit material" despite any posts that may have been labelled as such being marked with a community label and her blog recently being manually approved as NOT containing adult content. she also talks in this post, as well as here, about how she has had a support ticket open for several months for harassment she was receiving that has not been dealt with

this is an example of the threats and harassment she has been receiving. ive seen a few different people get this ask copy pasted

the CEO of tumblr made a post wherin he publicly aired information regarding her deletion and threatened legal action against her , showing examples of the alleged death threats where no actual threats were made and telling people in the replies to just leave if they were unhappy with the moderation of the site

avery made a post about this and her new blog was again deleted within five minutes of her making it

multiple people who have made posts about the situation have said matt has DMed them and confronted them

this is word im hearing secondhand, so if i get any details wrong please correct me, but posts of hers such as her transition timeline are apparently ones that were flagged. i cant find any screenshots but many of her posts, including one that was a silly edit of a snow leapord wearing shoes, have been completely wiped from the site. if anyone has a screenshot or link to both the original post and it being deleted i can add it to this

again there are a lot of posts going around but these are i think what you really need to know whats going on...

[sound-of-scoups]

Moth To A Flame | JJK & KMG | 01

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female!Reader x Kim Mingyu  Genre|tags: Idol!au, series, established relationship, infidelity, love triangle, lots of angst, lots of drama, smut, fluff.  Word count: 9.2k+ Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). Chapter warnings: A LOT of angst and tension, explicit language, sexual innuendos, kissing. Lemme know if there's more. A/N: I’m so happy it’s finally out!!! Just a few notes: I don't want to specify an exact date, but the events take place mostly during the second half of 2022, during the PROOF and Face the Sun/SECTOR 17 eras. Also, I'm not exactly sure how many chapters this fic will have, but possibly around 10 to 15 (if i can help it). That’s it! Enjoy the reading and let me know what you think!! Tags: @cherrylovescheol, @lovingkoalaface, @whoa-jo, @marihoneywk

Summary: Four years ago, you crossed paths with a charming member of the K-pop group Seventeen during their tour stop in Osaka. The two of you shared three intense, unforgettable days before life took you in different directions. It was painful for both of you, but you knew you couldn’t take things any further and had to say goodbye. Now, back in Seoul for good, you’re in a new relationship with another idol: Jeon Jungkook—whose charm and stability make him everything you thought you wanted. You are very much in love with him, and as your connection deepens, it feels like your life is finally falling into place. That is, until you meet one of your boyfriend’s best friends and are stunned to discover it’s the same man you fell for in Osaka all those years ago. As buried emotions resurface and secrets begin to unravel, you find yourself torn between these two men, caught in a whirlwind of love and conflict, testing the boundaries of loyalty and the choices that could change everything. 

Series masterlist | Next →

Your phone buzzed on the dresser as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the strap of your dress for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. You knew it was a message from Jungkook, probably wondering where you were since it was half past nine and you were already late. 

Nice way to make a good first impression, you thought to yourself, staring back at your reflection in the mirror, a mix of excitement and nerves creeping in your chest. 

Jungkook had chosen the dress himself. It was simple yet elegant, a mid red velvet dress—his favorite color on you—with a slight sheen and floral embossed details. The dress has a V-neckline and it’s fitted to the body, creating an elegant and sophisticated fit, perfect for the night. Over the dress, you chose to threw a black leather jacket, which added a cool touch to the look, contrasting with the delicacy of the dress and looking very chic overall. 

You took a step back, after applying a final coat of the deep red shade lipstick, smoothing the fabric of the dress one last time as you studied your reflection in the mirror once more.

If you were being honest with yourself, you had spent more time getting ready than usual, wanting everything to be perfect. 

Tonight marks six months since you and Jungkook started dating, a milestone you both had eagerly awaited. From the moment you met while temporarily working for HYBE as a stylist for BTS’s PTD on Stage first show in Seoul, back in october, you knew it was meant to be. When he started shamelessly flirting while you tried to adjust his clothes, you knew you were a goner. And in the 182 days since he kissed you at 2 a.m. by the Han River, the two of you have been through so much together.

You’ve already done almost everything and anything, absolutely ignoring when everyone said not to rush into things, since you’re both so young. Plans for the far future, matching tattoos, and considering how much time you spent at his place, basically living together. You can name it and find out what you've already done. HYBE already knew about your relationship, and you spent ninety percent of your time together, except when you were both working. He already knew your family and closest friends, and you also knew his mom, dad and brother, his members and most of his friends from school and the industry. 

Well, all except the infamous 97 line. Which basically was your task for tonight. 

You had never met them before, or at least not all of them. However, tonight that would change, as Jungkook had arranged a dinner and drinks to introduce you to them. And from the moment everything was agreed upon, the thought of making a good impression had your stomach in knots. Jungkook was everything to you, and all you wanted was to be perfect for him—to be the woman who would fit seamlessly into his world. 

You really did love him. It was a thought that both comforted and anchored you all day, keeping you steady despite the nervous feeling creeping in your stomach as you finished getting ready. During the time you’ve been together, you've fallen hard for Jungkook, his kindness, his humor, the way he made you feel safe and cherished. He became your world. He’s kind and thoughtful manners, the way he treated you like you were the most important person in his life.

Jungkook had been nothing short of amazing and you loved him deeply. 

But that was not the only thing on your mind tonight. There was something else, something you hadn’t been able to push away no matter how hard you tried. Or rather, someone.

Of course you knew the guys who were part of 97 line—you didn’t live under a rock. For Christ’s sake, you also work for the entertainment industry; it’s basically part of your job to know who they are. And even if they weren’t who they are, Jungkook never stops talking about him specifically. He’s already shown you dozens of photos of the two of them and their adventures during Seoul’s nights.

It had been months since you realized that Mingyu from Osaka was also Jungkook’s Mingyu. 

The worst part, however, was that you hadn’t had the heart to tell him. You knew how angry he would be, how fiercely he loved you, and how much he disliked the idea of sharing anything, especially you; what was his was his only. So, yes, you were terrified of what would happen if he found out. You simply couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, not when you loved him so much, and not when what you had together was the best thing that had happened to you since you set foot in Seoul again. 

That’s the only reason you had kept it to yourself this entire time, knowing this moment would come eventually and you would have no way to escape it, only hoping you could get through the night without Mingyu causing any trouble. You knew he was a discreet guy, and it wasn’t like you were going to see each other every single day anyway from now on.  

Your phone buzzed on the dresser one more time, pulling you out of your thoughts. As you have guessed before, it was another text from Jungkook. 

You smiled, the warmth of his words soothing your nerves, if only a little. Jungkook was the reason you were doing this, the reason you face tonight despite the anxiety gnawing at you. And tonight was about him, and you were determined to make it nice and easy. 

So you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you muttered to yourself, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It's just one night.” 

Grabbing your purse, you took one last look in the mirror, and headed out the door. Even though it's not that far from your house, the cab ride to the restaurant felt shorter than you expected, your anticipation growing with each passing minute. 

Earlier in the day, Jungkook had insisted on picking you up, but you refused. You ended up working late—your temporary job as an editorial stylist for Elle Magazine had taken more of your time than expected—and you didn’t want to make him late as well. So, you told him you’d take a taxi and assured him it would be fine. But even so, you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. He'd texted you several times throughout the evening, double-checking that you were okay and reminding you to let him know once you were on your way.

When you arrived, you spotted Jungkook immediately, staging outside the entrance with a wide grin on his face. He looked effortlessly handsome in his dark gray Calvin Klein shirt and dark jeans, his dark hair tousled in that way you loved.

As soon as he sees you getting out of the cab, his entire face lights up. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted you, bunny smile on full display as he pulled you into his arms to a warm hug, nose immediately dragging against the column of your neck, “I missed you.”

“Hi, handsome,” you replied, a teasing smile on your lips, nerves easing slightly with his touch as you melted completely into his embrace. “It's only been eight hours, babe.”

He shrugs. "What can I say? I don’t think I can last much longer without you, babe." Taking his face from the crook of your neck, Jungkook smiles, leaning down to kiss you softly. You sunk into the kiss, his familiar warmth making you feel safe and more at ease. “Happy six months.” 

“Happy six months, baby,” you replied between kisses.

When you finally pulled away, he kept you close, both hands on each side of your hips, an amused smirk pulling up at the corner of his lips. “You look incredible. Can’t wait to take this dress off of you.”

Your arms rested on his shoulders, circling his neck. “Mhmm… you don’t look so bad yourself.” He smelled really nice too, a wood and ocean scent that was distinctly his. “I have a surprise for you underneath this.”

"Don’t do this to me, doll,” he groaned in complaint, his voice almost sounding like a whimper. “I’d ditch those guys for you in a second.”

His lips met your jaw, trailing a path down to your neck. “And I wouldn't complain.”

You heard someone clear their throat, noticing a lady on the sidewalk staring at you with an unfriendly expression. You giggled, finally pulling away but staying close enough for him to drape his arm around your waist.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t wait for you to meet them,” he sounded way too excited, his doe eyes sparkling with joy. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said with a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the lingering jitters.

“They’re going to adore you, I promise,” he said, squeezing your waist reassuringly. 

Jungkook led you into the restaurant, his hand gently resting on the small of your back. The place was cozy and intimate, with soft lighting casting a warm glow over the tables—the exact kind of spot you’d expect idols to gather for this kind of get-together. You could hear the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses as you made your way to the back of the room toward a large table where a group of eight guys were already seated and chatting animatedly. 

As you weaved through the maze of tables, your nerves began creeping back in, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached the table. You forced yourself to focus on Jungkook, on the fact that he was here with you, and that tonight was more about him than anything else. But as your eyes scanned the faces at the table, you couldn't help but search for the one you were dreading most.

“They’re just over here,” Jungkook said, bringing you out of your thoughts as you approached the group. 

And then you saw him.

Heart skipping a beat and breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on the man sitting at the far end of the table, his eyes downcast as he filled his glass with a cabernet liquid. 

The man you never expected to see again in your life.

Kim Mingyu. 

The sight of him was like a punch to the gut, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy. The world around you blurred, your vision narrowing to just him—the man who had occupied your thoughts for so long after Osaka four years ago, the one you had tried and failed to forget.

It felt like slow motion as all eyes turned to you, and Mingyu slowly looked up from his drink, following suit with the rest of the guys.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked with his. A flicker of recognition crossed his gaze, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly masked his surprise with a neutral expression. Even though you knew he would be there, nothing could have prepared you for the rush of emotions that surged the moment your eyes met.

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you breathless and frozen in place. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background, and all you could hear was the rapid beating of your heart.

Mingyu held your gaze, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips. In that moment, a jolt of electricity shot through your body—a mix of fear, guilt, and something else, something you didn’t want to name.

“Everyone,” Jungkook’s voice cut through the haze in your mind, pulling you back to the present. “This is Y/N, the amazing woman I’ve been telling you all about, and the love of my life.”

Jungkook’s tone was joyful and proud as he kissed your cheek. You tore your eyes away from Mingyu, forcing a smile and trying to steady your breathing. Meeting the gazes of the guys around the table, you spoke, your voice steadier than you felt. “Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you all.”

“Babe, this is Yugyeom, Bambam, Chan, Eunwoo, Jaehyun, Seokmin, Minghao… and Mingyu,” Jungkook introduced, oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Mingyu stood up almost immediately, one of his long legs hitting the edge of the table, causing the silverware to rattle. He offered you a polite smile, but you noticed the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes avoided yours as he reached out to shake your hand across the table.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N,” he said, his voice calm and measured, as though nothing was out of the ordinary, giving nothing away.

Your hand trembled slightly as you shook his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your body that you desperately tried to ignore. Heart racing, you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced a smile, “You too, Mingyu.”

Clenching your teeth, you fought against the shiver that coursed through your body, your nipples hardening despite your will. Memories flooded back in flashes, like a kaleidoscope of moments—the way his fingers felt inside you, on you, touching and caressing, guiding you to most the earth-shattering nights of your life.

Your hands lingered together for just a moment, you mind racing as you tried to gauge his reaction. Was he going to say something? Did he really remember you?

The rest of the introductions faded into a blur. As everyone took their seats, you found yourself sitting directly across from Mingyu, the small proximity only heightened your awareness of him. You could feel his gaze on you, even though he was careful not to let it linger too long. 

Jungkook sat beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh under the table—a gesture that usually made you feel secure. But tonight, it felt like a reminder of the terrible situation you had suddenly found yourself in. 

You now hated yourself for not saying something to Jungkook before tonight. 

Of course, you hadn’t known Jungkook when Mingyu came into your life, but now that you knew both of them, shouldn't you have said something? 

And what would you even say? 

That his best friend had once stirred feelings in you so intense that they haunted you? That you spent years trying to erase the memory of his touch? That all those years ago, it was as if Mingyu hadn’t just claimed your body but your soul? 

A wave of nausea hit you suddenly, and you swallowed hard, trying to push it down.

As the conversation flowed around, you tried to focus on the others, to be present in the moment. You had to keep yourself occupied, or your sanity would begin to fray. And the other boys were more than happy to help you with that. They were very kind, funny and welcoming, and despite your tension, you found yourself slowly warming up to them. 

Jaehyun was charming and amusing; Seokmin was full of energy, making you feel more at ease with his laid-back attitude; Eunwoo was sweet but a little shy; Chan was outgoing and warm-hearted; Yugyeom was bubbly, relentlessly teasing Jungkook throughout dinner, while Bambam was clearly the life of the group—loud, hilarious, and making you laugh with his playful banter and jokes, easing some of the tension you’d been carrying since you arrived. Minghao, on the other hand, was more subdued but quick-witted, throwing in sarcastic comments and showing a genuine interest in you.

They all seemed genuinely happy to meet you, and you found yourself laughing at their stories, trying to relax.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Bambam asked. “We gotta know if you’re doing something cooler than us.” 

You chuckled softly. “Right now I'm between jobs. I mainly work as a tour stylist, but recently I’ve started getting into some editorial work too, for Elle Magazine.” 

"Oh, so you know Chaeyoung?" Eunwoo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Chaeyoung?" you echoed, unsure.

"Rosé, babe," Jungkook leaned in and whispered.

"Oh, right! Yeah, I was responsible for her outfits in the Elle June issue. We spent the whole day together—she’s really sweet." 

"She's part of our group too," Jungkook explained with a grin, "but you'll meet the girls another day."

"They're a separate event," Jaehyun joked and you laughed. 

“What do you like more? Touring or editorial?” Yugyeom asked, looking genuinely interested.

“Touring, definitely,” you replied, your face lighting up as you spoke about your job. "It’s incredible, and I get to do the other thing I love most—traveling."

“Wow,” Seokmin outed, sounding genuinely impressed. “What do you do when artists go on tour?”

“The months prior to a tour I coordinate the designers and do the talks with brands for custom pieces or partnerships," you began to explain. “During the tour, I oversee the team of dresses who help with costume changes and ensure costumes are functional for performances.”

“She’s so much cooler than you, Jungkook-ah.” Bambam said, pointing at Jungkook, who just shrugged.

“I can't argue with that.” 

“What artists have you worked with?” Chan piped in, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Mostly westerners. Little Mix, Dua Lipa, Ariana Gran—”

“So how did you two meet?” The question came up suddenly from the far end of the table, interrupting what you were saying and making your breath catch.

You shifted your gaze toward Mingyu, who leaned across the table with his eyebrows arched, head resting in the palm of his hand. Curiosity—and something more—sparkled in his eyes. Until that moment, he had been the picture of composure, engaging in conversation easily, his voice smooth and confident as he chatted with Jungkook and the other guys, but never with you.

Right now, however, you could see the tension in his jaw and the way the muscles in his forearm flexed, fingers tightened around his wine glass as he said, “Jungkook’s been pretty quiet about it, keeping us all in suspense.”

You hesitated for a moment, his tone sharp and unsettling, the bluntness of his question throwing you off balance. It was exactly the conversation you'd been avoiding, knowing it could lead to Mingyu prying into things you weren’t ready to share in his presence. 

You glanced at Jungkook, who smiled encouragingly and gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze under the table.

“Well, we actually met when I was working temporarily with BTS during the PTD on Stage shows here in the city," you said, keeping your voice steady, though inside you were bracing yourself. You turned your attention to your boyfriend’s face, forcing yourself not to let Mingyu's presence intimidate you, though it was becoming harder with every passing second. "It was supposed to be just for those shows, but I ended up staying with them until PTD in Las Vegas.”

“HYBE really loved her work, but I think I loved it more than anyone,” Jungkook said with a big smile, his hand gently caressing the inside of your thigh. His eyes met yours, and you exchanged a warm smile. “We got to talk one night after one of the concerts in LA, and…”

“It just felt right,” you concluded, smiling at the man on your left.

“Wow,” Yugyeom said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You couldn’t help but notice how similar his smile was to Jungkook’s—very bunny-like. “That sounds like something out of a drama.”

“Doesn’t it?” Jungkook said rhetorically, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You laughed softly, feeling the warmth in his gaze. “I guess it does. Life has a funny way of writing its own scripts.”

Tonight was the greatest proof of that, you thought, as Mingyu's gaze seared into the left side of your face. 

You stole a glance in his direction, catching him watching you closely. His expression was unreadable, but the tense set of his jaw gave you all the confirmation you needed—his own question had backfired, and this conversation was clearly affecting him, and not in the "I’m-happy-for-my-best-friend" kind of way. 

Then he abruptly turned his attention away when Minghao leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

"She’s got a point," Jungkook said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk as he pointed at Eunwoo. "You’ve probably started enough dramas to know how this plays out, huh?"

The man chuckled. "To be honest, it does sound like fate.”

Jungkook glanced at you with a smile that made your heart flutter even more. But before you could respond to Eunwoo, Mingyu’s voice cut in, accompanied by a wry smirk. “Real cinematic. Almost too good to be true, right?”

“It really was kind of perfect,” Jungkook said, smiling down at you again and completely oblivious to his friend's ironic tone."Fate or not, I’m just glad it happened."

The boys instantly started imitating Jungkook’s voice, making obnoxious noises and exaggerated smooching sounds. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way Mingyu’s words lingered above you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

His eyes remained fixed on you, but he leaned back in his chair, feigning casual interest. “I see. Well, it’s surprising that you didn’t run into us at the concert here in Seoul, too, since we were there. I guess fate decided to keep things interesting.”

Once again, his words were tinged with irony, and though he didn’t directly address it, the implication was clear as the day for you. Your heart raced as you fought to maintain your composure. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Just then, Jaehyun flashed you a warm smile and asked, “So, Y/N, are you from around here?” 

You shook your head. “No, actually. I’m originally from Gwangju, but I lived in the UK for almost my entire life before deciding to move back here.”

“Really?” Jaehyun said, clearly intrigued. “What brought you back?”

“Just felt like the right time,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sometimes you need a change of pace, you know?”

Jaehyun nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s nice to have a fresh start every now and then.”

"How many countries have you visited while working?” Yugyeom asked, taking your focus off Jaehyun. “Must be nice traveling to so many places." 

"Oh, it is. There are so many places that I couldn't name them all at once. The last time I was in Brazil with–”

“Have you ever been to Osaka, Y/N?” Sensing an opening, Mingyu threw the question at you, his eyebrows raised, your name rolling out of his tongue slowly. His smirk didn’t waver as he leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with the kind of knowledge only the two of you shared. “Osaka is really nice.”

You winced at the chill in his words, desperately searching his eyes for the tenderness that once resided in those brown depths. But all you found were dark, empty eyes that swiftly brought back memories of your time together.

Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat, the memory of those three days in Osaka flashing through your mind like a neon sign in the dark. He didn’t mention it—he wouldn’t—but the way he phrased the question made it clear what was hovering between the two of you. You didn’t know what game Mingyu wanted to play tonight, but it was suddenly driving you crazy. 

Everyone at the table turned their eyes to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, since he brought up Osaka out of nowhere. 

It was Bambam who voiced the question. “Osaka? She just said she was in Brazil, and you're stuck in Osaka?” he laughed. “You’ve been to Osaka hundreds of times, bro. Let’s hear about Brazil, please.”

Throughout the rest of the dinner, conversation and laughter filled the air. You tried your best to focus, to be present and engaged, but it didn’t matter how hard you tried, it was difficult to concentrate. Your mind kept drifting back to Mingyu, the tension between you palpable, even though neither of you acknowledged it. The others made you feel at ease, but Mingyu’s presence cast a shadow over your excitement.

And as if his mere presence wasn’t enough to overwhelm you, his smooth gestures and deep, husky laughter stirred memories you were desperately trying to forget.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes burning into you, now and then. Every so often, you would catch Mingyu looking at you, his gaze lingering just a little too long before he looked away. And every time your eyes met across the table, it sent a jolt through your system; your heart skipped a beat again and again, your mind a whirlwind of emotions, a jumbled mess of past and present. You couldn’t believe this was happening—of all the people in the world, Mingyu had to be Jungkook’s best friend.

It was so obvious that you weren’t the only one affected by this. You could see the tension in Mingyu’s shoulders, the way he kept his responses short, his attention drifting elsewhere. He was as shaken by this unexpected reunion as you were, and knowing that only made you feel more unsettled.

You loved Jungkook so much, you reminded yourself over and over. You were with him now, and that was all that mattered.

“Jungkook’s been so happy since you two got together,” Eunwoo leaned in closer, lowering his voice beneath the hum of conversation. His warm gaze focused on you as he whispered, grounding you again. “It’s really nice to see.”

A lump rose in your throat, the warmth of Eunwoo’s words a sharp contrast to the cold tension swirling inside you. Forcing a smile, you replied, “He makes me really happy too. The happiest, actually.”

It was true—you knew that. But right now, it felt like you were trying to convince yourself more than reaffirm it, and you hated yourself for it.

As the night went on, the tension in your chest never eased. It felt like guilt was eating you alive. Maybe you were overreacting—after all, it wasn’t like you had any feelings for Mingyu anyway. Maybe you should have told Jungkook from the start. Maybe he wouldn’t have reacted the way you feared, and everything would have been fine. The two of you would have laughed at the coincidence, and life would have gone on.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

But now it was too late, you thought to yourself—you were already here. You and Mingyu had already spent most of the night pretending you didn’t know each other, as if nothing extraordinary had happened four years ago. There was no way Jungkook wouldn’t find the situation strange.

Did that make you a cheater? You had wrestled with the question through the night, guilt gnawing at you, even if there was no betrayal in the technical sense. 

This wasn’t the kind of thing you could confess without destroying everything. It wasn’t something you could admit even to yourself without breaking. But the memory clung to you, no matter how hard you tried to bury it. And the weight of it was unbearable now, sitting in a room with both of them, feeling like you were betraying Jungkook just by being reminded of a past you could never speak of. 

Not with him, anyway. 

Sitting among your boyfriend's friends in silence, you felt like the worst person in the world. Although the rest of dinner flowed with lighthearted conversation, your heart raced every time Jungkook brought up something about your relationship that could give Mingyu space for interrogation.

And that continued until the conversation suddenly shifted.

“So, Mingyu, you still haven’t spilled the details about what went down between you and Sanghee," Yugyeom said, turning all eyes toward his friend. “Spill, already.” 

"Who’s Sanghee?" Bambam mumbled through a mouthful of rice.

“She’s that friend I set him up with on a blind date about three weeks ago," Yugyeom explained and all of a sudden, it seemed like the whole table had remembered a very important topic to be discussed: Mingyu’s love life. “She’s a dancer for YG.”

You took a long sip of your wine, trying to drown the strange knot tightening in your stomach. A confusing mix of warmth and bittersweet unease creeping through your veins, leaving you momentarily disoriented. 

Jealousy? Seriously? 

The thought hit you like a wave, catching you off guard. You had no reason to feel this way, but the unsettling twinge in your chest was undeniable. You shook your head, trying to push the feeling aside. You didn’t even know him anymore. It wasn’t fair to you or him to be feeling this way. But most of all, it wasn’t fair to Jungkook. Yet the thought of Mingyu being with someone else had every muscle in your body tensing, rejecting the idea completely in a crazy possessive way. 

"Wait, you're dating again?" Jungkook asked, genuinely surprised and you lowered your gaze to your plate, trying to tune out the conversation, even though a part of you wondered what he meant with again. "I had no idea, man. That's good for you!"

Mingyu’s tone was sharp, clearly meant as a jab, as he replied to your boyfriend. "Well, of course you wouldn't know. We’ve barely seen you these past six months."

"But for a good reason, so you're off the hook," Seokmin said with a wink in your and Jungkook’s direction, quickly easing the tension. "Anyway, it's awesome that Mingyu's getting back into dating. Four years is a long time."

You froze, a chill running through you. That couldn't be right. You must've misheard.

Slowly, you lifted your head, just in time to catch Minghao wrapping an arm around Mingyu, as if offering quiet support. "He had to move on eventually, you know."

"Seriously, dude," Eunwoo chimed in, shaking his head. "I’m starting to think that girl you met in Osaka is a figment of your imagination. No way you’d stay hung up for four years over someone you only spent three days with."

Mingyu’s face flushed, and it was obvious he knew you were staring—he avoided your gaze, and for the first time tonight, he was looking everywhere but at you. Still, you couldn’t help but watch him from beneath your lowered lashes, struggling to make sense of your feelings right now.

To your surprise, he glanced your way for just a second before turning his attention back to the guys. 

"Could you all shut up for a moment?" His gaze landed on Jungkook, then Yugyeom. "And no, I'm not dating again. Sanghee was a little annoying, to be honest. She only wanted to talk about things that didn't interest me”

Yugyeom let out an exasperated sigh, throwing his head back. "You’re way too damn picky, man. Seriously, just choose someone and date them already!"

"I'm not picky, I just know what I want." He leaned back in his chair with a casual shrug and turned his gaze to you. You quickly looked away, but he pressed on. "I've already said it: I'm looking for someone I can genuinely connect with. Someone kind-hearted and easy-going."

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like the girl from Osaka."

Mingyu shrugged. "Exactly like her."

You swallowed hard, leaning your head against your boyfriend's shoulder, using him as support to try to erase the thoughts racing through your mind at full speed. 

What the fuck was going on and why was he saying all these things?

"Mingyu met a girl in Osaka, like, five years ago? And he's never shut up about her since," Jungkook whispered, trying to include you in their conversation. "He hardly ever dates anyone because of her, so it’s always a reason to celebrate."

You forced a smile, bringing the glass to your lips as you replied, "She seems like a special girl." 

Jungkook smiled softly at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I bet she is.

The conversation went on and then shifted, turning to the new drama Eunwoo was preparing to film over the summer. When dessert was served, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts and breathe. You slipped quietly out of your chair, walking down the dimly lit hallway outside the restroom, your heart still racing as you closed the door behind you. 

You immediately leaned against the sink, gripping its edge tightly as you stared at your reflection, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you cursed loudly. “Fuck.”

What the hell was going on? Why was Mingyu trying to confuse you with all these things, after everything that happened the morning he left Osaka? What did he stand to gain from this? He was the one who set the boundary, who made it clear that the past needed to stay buried. So why now, of all times, was he stirring it all back up? None of it made sense, and the more you tried to piece it together, the more it felt like the ground was shifting beneath your feet.

You loved Jungkook. You knew that. You were in love with him, with the life you had begun to build together. The perfect bubble you had created around yourselves, one that no one seemed able to burst. You’d spent six months like this—entwined in each other as if your very lives depended on it—and even now, you were still eager to celebrate this milestone by yourselfs the moment you step out of here.

Yet, seeing Mingyu tonight took a toll on you. 

There had always been something about him, something intangible that tugged at your soul in ways you could never fully explain. Now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite remember what it was. It was maddening; the way the memory of him from four years ago slipped through your fingers all night, yet still sent your mind spinning uncontrollably. Deep down, you knew it was the same force that had once made your heart surrender so easily, the same pull that left you defenseless all those years ago.

You splashed water on your face, hoping to wash away your thoughts, trying desperately to clear your mind and come to your senses. But no matter how cold the water was, the anxious feelings remained, stubborn and unshakable.

Drying your face with a towel, you tossed it into the basket and took a deep breath. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to pull yourself together before heading back out there to face the rest of the evening with nothing but a big, stupid smile on your face, doing what you seemed so good at: pretending.

You stayed in the bathroom a few more minutes, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool the flush that had risen as you steadied your breathing. You needed to get back to Jungkook as soon as possible—back to the reality you had chosen, back to celebrating your six-month anniversary together with his friends.

But as soon as you rounded the corner, you almost collided with a solid figure.

“Whoa!” you exclaimed, stumbling back slightly before steadying yourself. “I’m sorry, I—” 

You stopped talking immediately when you looked up and met the one person you least wanted to see right now. Panic coursed through you, and you instinctively dodged, forcing yourself to start walking again without saying a word. 

But you were quickly halted when a hand landed on your forearm. The sudden touch sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of surprise and an unwanted spark of familiarity that you couldn't shake off. It was the faintest brush against your arm, but the sensation lingered, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm. 

How could such a small touch feel so electric? 

You quickly pulled your arm away, but didn’t take a step, frozen in place with him just behind you.

“Y/N,” Mingyu whispered, his voice husky in urgency. “Can we talk?”

Your heart sank. The last thing you wanted was to be cornered right now, especially after everything that had been said at the table just a couple of minutes ago.

Slowly, you turned to face him, heart racing as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm you just by a single touch. In that moment, all the thoughts you had tried to suppress tonight came rushing back, and you found yourself caught between the instinct to flee and the magnetic pull of his presence. 

“I… I really can’t,” you replied, voice firm but slightly wavering.

“Please,” he said, stepping closer, the intensity of his gaze making it hard for you to breathe. “I just need a moment. Just to talk.”

You shook your head no, mind fighting with all the reasons why this was a terrible idea. “Mingyu, it’s not a good time. I’m with Jungkook, and—”

“I know you’re with him,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “But that’s not what this is about. It’s about us.”

“What happened is in the past,” you stated, feeling a rush of frustration. “This won't change just because we ran into each other.”

His expression softened, a mixture of regret and longing. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. We…”

He stopped talking for a moment and for a second, just stood there, his gaze fixed on your face with intensity. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you it was as if he hadn’t really seen you until this moment. His eyes roamed over your face, down to the way the red dress clung to your body, and back up again, like he was memorizing every inch of you, like you was something he couldn’t quite believe was real. 

Your pulse thumped loudly in your ears. The proximity between you was unbearable. He was too close, his scent too familiar, the memories flooding back with every breath taken as if the ones that haunted you through this night weren't enough. 

It had been four years, but suddenly it felt like it had all happened yesterday.

Mingyu stepped closer, so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse thudding wildly as his eyes met yours once again. There was something in his gaze, something raw and unspoken, that made the air between you hum with electricity. He was looking at you like he’d been waiting all night just to get this close, like being in the same room hadn’t been enough until now.

“You…” Mingyu’s voice was rough, almost strained, his eyes never leaving yours. “You look… different.”

“Mingyu…” you started, but your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.

You knew what he meant. It wasn’t about the dress or the fact that your hair had grown long since the last time you had seen each other. He meant something deeper, something you both felt but neither could acknowledge. As you met his gaze, the weight of that understanding settled over you.

“You… look good,” he said, his voice quieter than before, but it still carried the same roughness that sent a shiver down your spine. 

You smiled softly, tilting your head to the side. You wanted to say so many things to him, but all that could come out of your lips was, “Thank you. You look good too.” 

The silence stretched between you, heavy with everything you couldn’t say. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the flicker of hope clouded by the reality of your lives now. 

“Mingyu,” you started, unsure of how to express the conflict inside you. “Listen, I…”

But before you could finish, somebody turned around the corner, interrupting your moment, making you jump slightly. Your heart started racing again, the reality of your situation crashing back down on you. Anticipation clenched in your stomach. You had to get out of here. 

“Minghao. Hi.”

Minghao smiled at both of you immediately, stopping in his tracks, his curious gaze locking onto yours. “Sorry about that,” he said with a chuckle, stepping aside to let you pass. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.” You said, mirroring his smile. “No worries.”

Then you made a move to walk past him, eager to return to the safety of the dinner table, to Jungkook, but Minghao didn’t let you go so easily. His eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just needed to freshen up.” You replied, glancing toward the dining area of the restaurant where you could hear Jungkook’s voice and the others still laughing, still blissfully unaware of the storm that had just brewed in your mind. 

“Are you two okay?” Minghao asked, glancing between you with a raised eyebrow. 

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

He didn't look convinced. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“We’re just catching up,” Mingyu replied, his expression shifting, the vulnerability from moments ago replaced by a guarded look. The casualness in his voice stood in stark contrast to the heaviness that had hung between you seconds earlier. “I had to know if she passed the test to be Jungkookie's girlfriend.”

Mingyu let out a light laugh as he spoke and Minghao nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. There was a curious glint in his eyes, as if he were trying to piece something together. He studied your face intently, his brows furrowing in thought, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“You know,” he started, his voice thoughtful, “you look really familiar. Have we met before?”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat for what it felt like the hundredth time this evening. The way he said it, the way his eyes held yours—it sent a chill down your spine. The distant familiarity in his eyes unsettled you all of a sudden, and you felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

You quickly glanced at Mingyu, then back at Minghao, swallowing hard, the weight of his gaze suddenly becoming too much for you to handle, because you knew exactly where he recognized you from. 

That day at the airport, the very last day, four years ago. The day you had said goodbye to Mingyu, heart in pieces, believing you’d probably never see him ever again. Minghao had been there, along with the other members of Seventeen. Far away, but there. He had probably seen it. He probably knew.

Panic bubbled in your chest, but you fought to keep your expression neutral. You forced a laugh, shaking your head as you carefully replied, "I don’t think so. I think I’d remember."

“You’d be surprised,” Minghao’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if your reaction to his question had only deepened his suspicion. He chuckled softly, but his eyes stayed on yours, sharp with thought. “I’m terrible with names, but faces? I never forget a face.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, but then he tilted his head, studying your face a little bit more. He glanced at Mingyu slightly and there was a beat of silence between the three of you. All of sudden, you felt your pulse quickening again. This night looked like it would be one that would land you in the hospital with the onset of a cardiac arrest. 

“Maybe we’ve crossed paths somewhere,” you said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “But I don’t think we’ve officially met before tonight.”

“Hmm, maybe,” he mused, glancing past you for a second before returning his focus back to your face. There was something knowing in it, something that made you feel sick. This couldn’t be happening. Then Minghao’s expression shifted, as if a light had just switched on in his mind. “Japan! Ha! Have you ever been to Japan?”

“I, uh…” you stammered slightly, trying to keep your cool. “Yeah, I’ve been. For work.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. You had met Mingyu during your time off while the singer you worked for was on tour.

He nodded slowly, like he was piecing something together. “Right.” 

Minghao's eyes lingered on yours, and you had the distinct feeling that he was seeing right through your attempt at casual conversation. 

But to your relief, he didn’t press the subject further. Instead, he just shrugged. “Well, I’m sure it’ll come to me eventually,” he said, his tone hinting at something unspoken. He smiled as he stepped aside, gesturing toward the dining room. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Minghao.” You mumble quickly, as he stepped into the men’s restroom after lightly touching Mingyu's shoulder and smiling at his friend. You took a deep breath, eyes meeting Mingyu’s again. “I should go,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I really need to—”

“Wait,” he interrupted you, his tone suddenly serious. “Can we… can we talk later? Somewhere private?”

You hesitated, the conflict within you flaring up again. Minghao's words and gaze had completely thrown you off balance. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” Mingyu said, his voice dropping to a whisper, a plea that struck deep within you. “I just need to see you again. Just to talk.”

“I’ll think about it,” you replied, taking one last look at him before you walked back toward the table. 

Every step felt heavy, your mind racing with thoughts you wished you could push away as you made your way back to Jungkook. Did Minghao know? Was he just playing with you, or had he already connected the dots? Has he really recognized you? Was it possible that he had seen you in the airport with Mingyu? 

You simply couldn’t afford to think about that right now. Not with Jungkook looking so happy, waiting for you at the table, surrounded by his closest friends. For now, you had to push everything aside, pretend like the past hadn’t crashed into your life tonight. 

As you neared the dining area of the restaurant, the sound of laughter greeted you, and for a moment, the weight on your chest lightened. Jungkook spotted you immediately, his face lighting up as he waved you over. 

You observed that boys had spread out. Seokmin, Bambam and Yugyeom were huddled around the karaoke machine, laughing and dancing to the soft ballad playing in the background. Eunwoo, Jaehyun and Chan sat nearby Jungkook, deep in conversation, while there was no sign of Mingyu coming behind you. 

When you reached the table, Jungkook turned fully toward you, flashing that familiar boyish smile, the one that always made your heart swell. It was effortless, the way he could make you feel safe with just a look, as if the entire world faded away and it was only the two of you.

He extended his hands, pulling you close to seat on his lap, his voice soft and affectionate as he murmured, “There you are. I was starting to miss you.”

You genuinely smiled, the sound of his voice grounding you in the presente, exactly where you should be. You had to focus on him. On your six-month anniversary. On the life you had built together, even if ghosts from your past were insisting on creeping back in. 

He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you as close as he could. “You okay?”

The warmth of his embrace and the tenderness in his words wrapped around you like a protective shield, momentarily easing the tension inside you. You melted into his embrace, resting your head against his shoulder and allowing yourself to sink into the comfort he always provided you, grateful for his touch on your skin. “Never been better.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jungkook whispered, his words filled with sincerity as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head. “You make everything better, you know?”

You smiled at him again, though this time it felt fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

“I’m glad too.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

He smiled big. “I love you more.”

You shook your head, tears suddenly welling up, pushing against your resolve. "No," you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought to hold them back. You couldn't tell what it was. Whether it was the events of  tonight that had left you feeling so overwhelmed, or if it was simply because you loved this man with every fiber of your being that it couldn't be possible for there to be a love greater than that. "It’s not possible."

Everything inside you felt tangled—love, guilt, confusion—blurring the lines between what was real and what you were trying to push away.

“Yes, it is,” he said, head tilted to the side as he examined your face, his eyes and voice soft with concern, while you sank deeper into his shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

"Nothing," you whispered, forcing a small smile as you blinked away the tears. "They're tears of happiness, I promise. I'm just happy that we're here and together."

“Babe, this has been the happiest six months of my life.”

Your heart clenched. Six months. It was supposed to feel like a celebration, but all you felt right now was guilt weighing on you.

“Mine too,” you whispered back, mind far from settled.

Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You laughed, despite the sincerity in his voice, burying more of your face in his neck and closing your eyes to inhale the scent you loved—his. “Are you drunk right now, mister?”

“Just a little bit,” he chuckled. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I feel the same way, baby,” you said, hoping the words would steady you. 

He leaned closer, moving your hair away from the back of your neck to leave a trail of kisses there, voice a little rough. “And the way you look in this dress? Absolutely perfect and mesmerizing. I’d say you’re turning heads tonight.”

Your heart raced with joy at his compliment, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not too shabby yourself,” you teased, letting your gaze linger on him. “So handsome,” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your lips. “So hot. It’s no wonder Calvin Klein wants you as their new brand ambassador.”

He chuckled, a low, playful sound that sent a thrill through you. “Careful, babe. If you keep complimenting and kissing me like this, I might have to take you somewhere else.” His tone was flirtatious and tinged with mischief, causing a flutter deep within you at the thought.

You bit your lip, lifting your head from his neck as your hands caressed his face, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw and lip ring. Leaning in closer, you raised an eyebrow, your voice soft and teasing. “Is that a promise?”

“Mhmm…” 

Your faces were inches apart, the warmth of his breath sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. There was electricity in the air, a palpable tension that danced between you, wrapping around you like a silken thread. In that brief moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the rest of the world fading away. 

You swept his hair back, savoring every detail—the curve of his lips, the intensity in his eyes, the magnetic pull of his gaze. The urge to lose yourself in him was always so powerful. With a teasing flick of your tongue, you traced his lips, biting his lip ring, and he parted them willingly. A smile played at your mouth as you pulled back provocatively, but his lips chased yours immediately, hands slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you close. This time, you surrendered to him completely, feeling his smirk press against your mouth as you gave in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, breath catching as his soft lips pressed into yours, stealing the air right from your lungs. As you moved in, your tongue met his in a playful, lingering dance. The warmth of the kiss sparked something deep inside, each gentle caress a silent promise to savor every second together.

Still seated on his lap, your hands pressed to his chest, fingertips grazing over the firm planes beneath, as each languid pull of his lips melted you further .Jungkook’s hands squeezed your hips, urging you even tighter against him. The cool touch of his lip ring sent a thrill through you with every brush, a tantalizing contrast to the heat building between you.

Your hands slid up, fingers lacing behind his neck as your nails grazed his skin, slipping into his hair with a gentle tug. But just as you were close to getting more lost in each other, a piece of bread sailed through the air, smacking Jungkook on the head. You both broke the kiss, turning quickly to see where the unexpected interruption had come from.

Eunwoo, Jaehyun and Chan observed you with amused expressions, joined by the others on the other side of the room.

Crossing his arms over his chest, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he stared at you, Jaehyun said, “Aren’t you two awfully cozy over there?” 

“Seriously, get a room!” Yugyeom shouted across the nearly empty restaurant. 

“And don’t forget we’re still here, please.” Chan spoke, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

The others joined in with laughter, their teasing breaking the intimate bubble you and Jungkook had momentarily created. Your cheeks warmed even more as you buried your face in Jungkook’s shoulder again, caught between embarrassment and amusement.

“Yeah, okay, okay!” Jungkook said, laughing as he pulled back slightly, still holding you on his lap. “Can’t blame us for trying to celebrate our anniversary!”

“Right, right,” Eunwoo said, smirking. “Just don’t do it with us watching, yeah?”

As laughter filled the air, you felt the warmth of Jungkook’s arm around your waist, anchoring you to him amidst the joyful chaos.

But just then, you couldn’t help but let your gaze drift across the table. Drawn by an invisible thread, your eyes locked onto Mingyu’s. He was there again, clearly forcing a laugh as he stared at you. Your heart raced, the laughter around you fading into a distant murmur. Mingyu’s expression was unreadable yet charged, a blend of warmth and something profound swirling between you, and suddenly the light atmosphere seemed to shift again.

“Babe?” Jungkook’s voice pulled you back, concern etched across his features as he noticed your distraction. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on him again, the affection in his eyes steadying you again. And then you lie, feeling like the worst person in the world again. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook pressed, his brow furrowing. ”You're not uncomfortable, are you?”

“No. Really, I’m okay.” you insisted, the words slipping out a little too quickly as your eyes met his. 

Eventually, as the night wore on, your head nestled against Jungkook’s shoulder, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat started to lull you into a sleeping state. He turned to you, a gentle smile on his face. “So, what do you say we call it a night? I think we’ve celebrated enough for one evening.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection.

Jungkook pulled you close, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

If you liked this feel free to let me know with a like, reblog, comment, whatever you prefer! ❤️

★ TAGLIST

[nausicaamusiclover20]

I had this fantasy all day and I couldn't help but write it down

Paring: !ProfessorxStudent!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Explicit Content, Mature Themes,Sexual Content, mature language, Age Gap (15-year difference) Power Imbalance, Adult Themes

Playing with fire

The university had become my second home, and I loved every minute of it. The quiet spaces for studying, the hustle of students on the move, and the occasional moments of clarity when everything just clicked. It was all thrilling—except for one thing: Professor James Hetfield,the Professor, who despite the 15-year difference, I was attracted to.

He was a constant presence. Not just in the classroom, but in my thoughts. Every class, every interaction with him felt charged. He never showed favoritism, not even toward the brilliant students like me, but I couldn’t help the way his cold blue eyes always seemed to find me, to watch me. Every lecture, every question he posed, there was something about the way he looked at me—intense, almost as if he could see through the mask I wore.

The lectures were always intense, filled with complex material that many of the students struggled to understand. But for me, it was all too easy. I was always ahead of the curve, always absorbing the material faster than most. Yet, the more I proved myself, the more I felt his gaze upon me, even if he never admitted it. And somehow, it made everything even more exciting.

When the day of the final exam arrived, the weight of it felt suffocating. It wasn’t just the usual pressure of exams—it was the pressure of having to live up to the quiet challenge I had set for myself. There was something about impressing Professor Hetfield that made every question feel like a test of my worth, something that wasn’t just about getting the answers right but about making him acknowledge me in a way he had never acknowledged anyone else.

The room was filled with students, the air thick with the sounds of papers shuffling and anxious whispers. But I felt calm. Focused. As I looked around the room, I saw them all sweating, struggling over the hardest questions. But my mind was clear—methodical. I answered each question with ease, my pen flying across the page as if the answers were written in my blood. It was exhilarating to feel so confident, so ahead of the game.

It didn’t take long for me to finish. I was the first one done, though I didn’t want to leave yet. The tension between Professor Hetfield and I was like a live wire, and I wasn’t ready to break that connection just yet.

I stood, glancing briefly around the room. The other students were still scribbling away, oblivious to the fact that I was already finished. Without hesitation, I walked up to the front of the room and placed my paper gently on his desk.

Professor Hetfield was seated, marking papers with his usual cool, detached demeanor. His blue eyes flickered up to meet mine for a split second before returning to the paper in front of him. I took a seat in the front row, my hands resting on my lap, trying to keep my composure. As I sat, I felt the anticipation building in my chest. Did I make a mistake? I thought to myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I had doubted myself, but in that moment, uncertainty crept in.

What if I had missed something? What if he saw something wrong in my answers, something I had overlooked? His sharp eyes could spot even the smallest mistake, and that thought gnawed at me. I watched as he methodically went through the other papers, his eyes scanning each answer with cold precision. But when he reached my paper, he paused.

My stomach clenched.

His gaze lingered on my exam, studying it with the same cold attention he always gave everything. I couldn’t read him. Did I mess up? Was there something he had spotted in my work that I hadn’t seen? His pen stopped moving for a moment, then continued with a quick, decisive motion. I felt the silence stretching between us, my pulse quickening.

Professor Hetfield finally placed the pen down, his gaze rising to meet mine. I sat up straighter, trying to read him, but his face was unreadable.

“You finished already?” His voice was the usual low, gravelly tone, but there was something different about it today—something softer, almost impressive. “You didn’t take long.”

I swallowed, trying to maintain a cool facade. “No, I didn’t,” I replied, not trusting my voice to sound steady. He must have seen something wrong, I thought. It’s too quiet.

He looked at me for a moment longer, his eyes piercing through the calm surface of my thoughts. Was he really going to say anything?

I started to second-guess myself, wondering if he was silently critiquing every little thing in my paper. The questions were challenging, after all. But no, I told myself. I nailed it.

“Impressive,” he finally said, his voice clipped. But there was something else in it—a faint admiration buried beneath his usual coolness. “You’ve done well.”

I couldn’t help the small breath that escaped my lips. Was that... a compliment?

His blue eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than usual, a quiet intensity simmering beneath the surface. “Perfect,” he added, almost as an afterthought. His gaze softened, but just barely. “Good work, Miss Y/N.”

I felt a strange warmth spread through me. I had expected more formality, more distance, but there was something about the way he said those words that felt different, more personal. I tried to keep my composure, but my heart was beating harder now.

As the class began to file out, I remained seated for a moment, my fingers lightly brushing over the edges of my papers as I adjusted them, feeling a slight tremor in my hands. I wasn’t sure if I was still processing his words or the intensity of the moment. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave, or if I wanted him to say something more—anything, really.

But he didn’t. His attention moved back to the papers on his desk, the cold, professional mask returning. But I knew what had just passed between us. The tension still hung in the air, thick and undeniable. I could almost taste it. I shifted in my seat, feeling the weight of the silence pressing against me.

The room had emptied, leaving just the two of us in this quiet space. My mind raced, trying to make sense of everything. Was he still aware of me? Even as his gaze never fully met mine again, there was something about the way he’d looked at me that made me feel as if we were still connected, even in that silence.

As I stood, I moved to adjust my backpack over my shoulder, trying to regain some normalcy. My fingers fumbled slightly as I pulled it on, my thoughts still tangled. I could feel his eyes on me once more, even though he wasn’t directly looking. It was as if he was aware of my every movement.

Just as I reached the door, I heard his voice—low, commanding, sending a jolt through me.

“You did a good job, Miss Y/N,” he said, his voice a smooth draw. “Always impeccable.”

The words struck me like a spark in the quiet room, and my breath caught. I froze for a moment, feeling the weight of his praise and the underlying intensity behind it. My cheeks flushed a deep crimson, warmth flooding my face as I quickly turned my head, trying to mask the sudden rush of heat.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice softer than usual, betraying the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside me.

Without another word, I stepped out into the hall, my pulse pounding in my ears. The game had changed. And as much as I tried to tell myself it was just another day, I knew deep down that something had shifted between us.

I had to admit, the thought had been nagging at me for days. Was I just another student to him? Did he really see me only as that? Or was there something more behind the way he kept glancing at me in class, his eyes lingering a fraction longer than they should have? It was maddening to think about, and I couldn’t stop the curiosity from eating away at me.

The game was fun—no doubt about it—but I needed answers.

So I decided to test it again. This time, I was going to make sure the Professor couldn’t ignore me, and if he did, then that would prove everything I needed to know.

The idea had been swirling in my head for days now, gnawing at me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more between him  and me. He was always so composed, always so in control, but when our eyes met, there was something there. Something I couldn’t explain. 

As I settled into my seat, I tried to act casual, pulling out my notebook and pretending to be absorbed in my notes, but my heart was pounding. I could feel his presence at the front of the room, but I kept my eyes trained on the page, waiting for the inevitable.

The room began to fill up as other students entered, taking their seats. He stood at the front, greeting a few students, his voice low and steady as always. But my mind was elsewhere—on him. I couldn’t help but glance up occasionally, but I didn’t want to make it too obvious.

Class began, and he fell into his usual rhythm. His voice was calm, steady, and clear, filling the room with his authoritative presence. I let my mind wander, knowing the moment I had been waiting for would come soon enough.

I noticed his eyes sweeping over the room as he began his lecture, but they didn’t land on me right away. Instead, they passed over my usual seat, scanning the rows of students. For a moment, I wondered if he’d even noticed the change, but I stayed still, pretending to pay attention to the lecture.

Minutes passed, and still, his gaze didn’t linger on me. I almost started to second-guess myself. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe it wasn’t as obvious as I thought.

But then—

I caught a subtle shift in his movements. His eyes flicked back to the room, scanning again. They moved from one student to the next, and then—It was like a switch had been flipped. His gaze landed on me.

It wasn’t immediate. At first, I thought I imagined it, but then his eyes stayed fixed on me, no longer scanning the room in a casual manner. For a moment, I could see the slight hesitation in his expression, like he was piecing something together. His eyes narrowed slightly as if searching for the right words, trying to figure out why I wasn’t where I usually sat. I felt a thrill of excitement surge through me. He had noticed. It took him a while, but he had noticed.

I didn’t move, pretending to be absorbed in my notes, my heart racing in my chest. My breath caught, and I couldn’t help but glance up again. This time, our eyes met—his deep, piercing blue eyes locking onto mine.

I saw something in them that hadn’t been there before—a flicker of recognition, of something more than just the usual professor-pupil dynamic. It was brief, but it was enough. He quickly broke the gaze, his expression stiffening as if he were trying to regain his usual composure.

But I knew. I knew he saw me now. 

My mind raced, but I kept my expression neutral. I didn’t want to give away that I knew exactly what had just happened. The rest of the lecture passed in a blur, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment—the way his gaze had lingered on me, the way his eyes had found me in the back of the room.

 Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. The students began filing out, and I stood slowly, packing my things. I kept my movements deliberate, as though I had all the time in the world, but my pulse was racing. I glanced around the room to see if anyone else noticed, but most students were too busy gathering their things and heading toward the door.

I walked out with the others, trying to keep my face neutral, but a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. As I made my way down the hall, the satisfaction of what had just happened settled over me.  Professor Hetfield had noticed me—really noticed me. The way his gaze had locked onto mine, the brief hesitation in his usual calm demeanor—it was all the confirmation I needed.

I smirked to myself as I walked down the hallway, knowing that the game had changed. He had watched me, and now he knew. I had made my point. 

As the students filed out, I made my way over to Professor Hammett, who was talking to a couple of people by the door. He was always easy to talk to, and today, I had the perfect excuse to strike up a conversation.

“Hey, Professor Hammett!” I said, casually walking up.

“Y/N!” he greeted, his usual easy grin spreading across his face. “What’s up? You’re looking way too cheerful for someone who just survived a lecture with Hetfield.”

I laughed, adjusting my bag. “Oh, you know, I’m just doing great in class. But I was thinking about that old horror flick I watched last night—The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I love how gritty and real it feels.”

His eyes lit up at the mention of the movie. “Ah, classic! That whole atmosphere, the suspense… It’s one of those films that gets under your skin. How about The Shining? Now that one’s pure psychological horror.”

I smiled, getting into the conversation. “For sure. It’s all about that tension, right? You don’t need to see the monster to feel the terror. It’s all in the build-up.”

He leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know what? We should have a movie marathon. Old-school stuff. What do you think?”

“I’d be down for that,” I replied, enjoying the easy banter. But as we were talking, I caught the glint of familiar cold blue eyes across the hall—Professor Hetfield. He was standing with a few students, but his gaze was locked on me. I quickly turned back to Professor Hammett, but the tension in the air was undeniable.

As I continued the conversation with him, I noticed the professor step closer, his usual reserved demeanor barely concealing the sharp focus in his eyes. He greeted Kirk briefly, then turned his attention to me.

“Afternoon,  Miss Y/N,” he said, his voice low and almost a little too casual. But there was something there—something in the way his eyes lingered on me just a little too long.

“Good afternoon, Professor Hetfield,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light, but inside, my heart was racing. I couldn’t help but feel the shift in the air between us. It was like the silent tension from the horror movies we’d just discussed—unspoken, but thick.

Kirk smiled and stepped back slightly. “I’ll leave you two to chat. Catch you later, Y/N.”

“See you, Professor” I said, my smile still in place, but I could feel the subtle power shift now that it was just Professor Hetfield and me. As Kirk walked off, he moved a little closer, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I see you’ve been talking to Kirk,” he said, his tone still polite, but there was an edge to it now. The subtle jealousy was unmistakable. I could practically feel the heat radiating off him as he gave a small nod in Kirk’s direction.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “Just talking about old horror movies, the classics.” I gave him a small, teasing smile. “What’s your take on them, Professor? Or are you too serious for something like that?”

He stared at me for a moment, then gave a tight smile. “I think I’m more interested in your take on them, Miss Y/N. You seem to have a particular passion for these films. Maybe you can give me some recommendations.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh, I’ve got plenty. You’re missing out on some of the best stuff. I’ll make you a list,” I said, my voice light but purposeful. The more I pushed him, the more I saw the barely-contained frustration in his eyes. Before I could say anything more, Professor Hetfield quickly glanced away, as if pulling himself back from the moment. He cleared his throat. “Good job in class today. Your answers were...  always impeccable.” His voice dropped slightly, as though he was forcing the words out.

I gave him a sly smile, my cheeks burning slightly from the attention. “Thanks, Professor. I’ll be sure to give you more to think about next time.”

As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but feel the smirk forming on my lips. I’d pushed just the right buttons today, and I could see the jealousy simmering beneath his usually cold exterior.

As I walked out of the hallway, I could feel his eyes still on me, even though he didn’t say a word. It was like a scene from one of those horror movies we’d joked about—where the tension builds and you’re not sure when the next jump scare will come, but you know it’s coming.

I had him now. Professor Hetfield was interested, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

It had been days since I’d started playing my little games with Professor Hetfield. Each class had felt like a silent war, a dance of glances, subtle challenges, and unspoken words. I could feel his eyes on me more and more, could see the tension building every time I answered a question or made a move in his class. It was almost like a game of cat and mouse, and I was enjoying every second of it.

Today was no different. I was the last to leave the lecture hall, as usual. I liked to take my time, let everyone else rush out. There was something intoxicating about the way Professor Hetfield always seemed to watch me leave, his eyes following me as I gathered my things. And today, I was determined to make him feel something more.

I slung my bag over my shoulder slowly, savoring the quiet of the empty classroom. I had done it again—made him want more, made him chase me without him even realizing it. I thought I’d done enough to leave the class without another glance back, but today felt different.

Just as my hand touched the doorknob, I heard his voice. Low, controlled, but unmistakably commanding.

“Miss Y/N.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. I turned slowly to face him. He was standing by his desk, his gaze fixed on me. There was a new intensity in his eyes—a flicker of something deeper, something darker that hadn’t been there before.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it now, a hint of something more.

I gave him a playful smile, leaning back slightly against the door. “Just thought I’d take my time, Professor. You know, savor the moment.”

His lips twitched at the corner, a small smirk playing on his face as he walked slowly toward me. “Savor the moment? Interesting choice of words.”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why? Does that make you uncomfortable, Professor?” I could see the flicker of challenge in his eyes, but he didn’t back down. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.

“No,” he said quietly, his voice lowering, “but it makes me curious.”

The air between us thickened. Every step he took felt like it brought him closer to something dangerous—something that neither of us had fully acknowledged until now. I could feel the electricity crackling in the room, like we were standing on the edge of something we couldn’t control.

I took a step back, my heart racing. “I should go,” I said softly, trying to maintain control, even as the desire building between us felt undeniable.

But as I reached for the door, he moved quickly, his hand slamming against it, stopping me from leaving.

I froze, caught off guard by the force of his movement. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at him, his blue eyes locking with mine. He was so close now, the heat of his body radiating against mine.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

My heart pounded in my chest. The space between us was electric, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. His hand stayed on the door, his other hand slowly lifting to brush a lock of hair behind my ear. His touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I could barely breathe under the weight of his gaze.

“You like playing with me, don’t you?” His voice was almost a growl now, the words wrapped in dark intent. “You like making me chase you, testing me, seeing how far I’ll go.”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, but I couldn’t deny the heat that rushed through me. This was the moment—the moment. “Maybe,” I whispered, my lips almost brushing against his as I spoke. “Maybe I do.”

His smirk deepened, and in that instant, he closed the distance between us. His lips crashed against mine, fierce and hungry, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore. The kiss was everything I had imagined—passionate, urgent, full of unspoken desire. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer, the heat of his body making me melt against him.

I responded in kind, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepened, and I could feel his desire growing, matching my own. The world outside the room ceased to exist. All that mattered was the tension between us—the need that had been building for days, now finally unleashed.

His hands moved to the small of my back, pushing me against the door as he kissed me deeper. I could feel his breath against my neck, his lips trailing down to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I gasped as his hand slid down, dangerously close to where I wanted him, but just as quickly, he pulled away, his eyes dark with lust.

“You’ve been playing with fire, Miss Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “And now… it’s my turn.” I think,” he said, his voice soft but filled with purpose, “that I should remind you who’s in charge here.”

I looked up at him, my chest rising and falling with every breath. My heart was racing, but I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. “I’ve been waiting for this,” I whispered.

His gaze darkened, and without another word, he pulled me toward him again, this time more forcefully, as his lips descended on mine once more. The kiss was all heat and urgency, the taste of him intoxicating as his hands roamed over my body, taking control in a way that made me feel both exhilarated and completely powerless.

I responded, parting my lips slightly, inviting him in. The kiss deepened, his lips moving against mine with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the connection between us. My body seemed to melt against him, every inch of me craving the touch I had been teasing him with for so long.

His hands found their way to my waist, pulling me closer, and for a brief moment, I thought he might push me further. But he didn’t. Instead, he gently guided me toward his desk, the action so smooth, so deliberate, I couldn’t help but follow.

He stopped just before the edge of the desk, his eyes locking onto mine. “Sit,” he said, his voice soft but commanding.

I obeyed without hesitation, sitting on the edge of the desk, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for what would come next. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

He stepped back, taking in the sight of me sitting there, the tension thick in the air. “You’ve been teasing me,” he said again, his voice softer this time, but no less intense. “But you want more, don’t ya?”

I nodded, unable to find the words. My body felt like it was on fire, every nerve alive with need.

“You’re so needy for me, Miss Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire. “And I think you know exactly how far you’re willing to go.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, but before I could respond, he was back in front of me, his lips capturing mine once again. The kiss was hungry now, desperate, like we were both starved for this connection. There was no turning back. He first unbuttoned my shirt a bit, playing with them a bit, but surprisingly he ripped my shirt leaving me with only my bra. I smirked at his action, and with confidence, I started removing my bra, slowly looking at him, with a smirk. My fingers hesitated for just a second as I reached for the straps of my bra, but I knew he was watching, and somehow, that made me move slower, more deliberately.

As I pulled the fabric down my shoulders, I felt his eyes trace the curve of my skin. I could see the shift in his posture—how his breath seemed to catch, how his chest rose and fell a little faster. His eyes never left me, and I could feel the weight of his stare like a touch, lingering on my exposed skin. When the bra finally slipped down, I couldn’t help but notice how his gaze followed every inch, lingering on my breasts with such intensity that it made me feel completely exposed.

His jaw tightened, and I saw his hand flex at his side, as if he was fighting the urge to move. He didn’t look away. In fact, it was almost like he was drinking me in, like he couldn’t get enough of what he was seeing. There was hunger in his eyes—raw, powerful—and yet, there was something else too, something almost reverent, like he was seeing me in a way no one else ever had.

His breath was shallow, quick, and I noticed how his body shifted, how he leaned in just slightly, drawn to me without even realizing it. I could tell he wanted to reach out, to close the distance between us, but he stayed still, rooted in place, just watching. His eyes flicked back to mine for a moment, and the heat between us seemed to grow, thick and heavy, leaving no room for anything but this moment.

I let the bra drop fully, and still, his gaze never wavered. I felt a flush spread across my skin, not from shyness, but from the raw intensity of how he was looking at me. He was hungry for me, but it wasn’t just physical. It felt deeper, like he was searching for something in me, something more than just the surface.

At that moment, I realized I wasn’t just undressing for him. I was giving him all of me, and he was taking it in, slowly, carefully, like he was afraid if he blinked, it would all disappear.

“You really love teasing, don’t you, darling?” His voice was low, almost a growl, like he was savoring the words, letting them linger between us. His gaze never left mine, intense and predatory, but there was something playful in the way he spoke, as if he enjoyed watching me revel in the power of the moment.

 met his gaze, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. His words hung in the air, heavy with that unmistakable edge of desire. “Yes,” I said softly, my voice breathless but confident. “I love it.” I let the words linger between us, daring him to respond, daring him to make the next move.

His eyes darkened, and the moment stretched taut between us, the space narrowing. Before I could even register the shift in his posture, his hand was on me—his touch firm, almost possessive as he reached for my breast, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin. I gasped, my body instinctively tilting toward him, but he guided me with ease, his touch a mixture of control and dominance.

“You’ve had your little games,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with intent. “Now it’s my turn to have fun.” His thumb stroked the curve of my breast, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’ve teased me enough, darling. But now…” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, his grip tightening slightly. “Now, it’s my turn to see just how much you can handle.”

His hand didn’t stop, didn’t falter. The intensity of his gaze pinned me in place, even as my breath hitched and my knees felt weak. Without a word, he guided me back until I felt the cool edge of the desk against me. His touch was deliberate, firm but not rushed, as though he wanted to savor every reaction he could draw from me.

“Lie back,” he murmured, his voice deep and commanding, the kind of tone that sent a shiver through me and left no room for hesitation. I obeyed, lowering myself onto the desk, the smooth surface pressing against my back as he loomed over me.

His hands moved down, exploring every inch of me, his fingertips brushing over my exposed skin with an unhurried precision that made me feel like I was unraveling under his touch. When he reached the hem of my skirt, his eyes flicked up to meet mine, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said, his tone teasing but heavy with desire. He slid the fabric higher, baring my thighs inch by inch, watching as goosebumps rose on my skin. His fingers lingered just at the edge of my panties, tracing the line where the fabric met my skin, a maddeningly light touch that made my pulse race.

“You like to tease, but look at you now,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. His thumb brushed over me through the thin fabric, his movements slow, deliberate. I couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped my lips, and his smirk deepened.

“Already so wet,” he said softly, almost to himself, his fingers pressing just enough to make me squirm. “Tell me, darling, was this all part of your little game? Or is this just how much you want me?”

The way he looked at me, the way his hands moved, made my mind spin. I couldn’t find the words to respond, couldn’t do anything but feel as he kept teasing me, his touch igniting every nerve in my body. He was in complete control now, and I could only hold onto the edge of the desk, letting myself get lost in the way he looked at me like I was his to claim.

His fingers toyed with the edge of my panties, his touch maddeningly light as though he was savoring how much I squirmed under him. I managed a smirk, though my breath was already unsteady.

“You’re good at this,” I murmured, the tease in my voice thin but still there. “But what about you, Professor?” My words dripped with mock innocence, daring him. “You should’ve seen the way you were looking at me earlier.”

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for just a moment as if I’d struck a nerve. The smirk that spread across his lips after was slow, deliberate, dangerous.

“You have no idea,” he said, the words making me shiver. “How many times I’ve dreamed of this—of having you like this, spread out, completely mine to touch, to taste…” His hand slid lower, his fingers grazing the soft fabric that clung to me. “To fuck you senseless,” he finished, his tone rough with restraint, his breath hot against my skin.

“Don’t you have rules about this?” I asked, my voice low and teasing, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. “Making out with your student?”

He paused for a fraction of a second, his eyes locking onto mine. The intensity in his gaze made my stomach flip, and then he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, his voice rough and full of heat.

“I’d break every rule for you, darling,” he said, his breath hot against my skin. “Every single one.”

His hands moved with purpose then, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties, hooking the fabric, and pulling it down slowly. The deliberate way he did it—like he wanted me to feel every second of it—made my pulse race.

“Lift,” he said, his tone low and commanding, and I obeyed without a second thought, letting him slide them down and away. The cool air against my bare skin made me shiver, but his warm hands were already there, settling on my thighs, pushing them apart with a quiet authority that sent heat rushing through me.

“Open up for me,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm, his eyes dark with intent. The way he looked at me, like I was something he’d waited too long to touch, made me tremble. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his breath warm, every touch deliberate and unhurried. I gripped the edge of the desk, barely able to breathe as he moved closer, the tension in the air thick enough to drown in.

“You teased me long enough,” he murmured against my skin, his voice a low, gravelly promise. “Now, let me take care of you the way I’ve dreamed of.”

His hands tightened on my thighs, spreading them wider as he leaned in, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. The weight of his gaze alone made me feel exposed, vulnerable—but in a way that only made me crave more. His touch was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every moment, every reaction I gave him.

I tried to steady my breath, but it was impossible when every second of his tongue left me more breathless. His lips brushed over my skin, soft and teasing, but I couldn’t stop the way my body responded—how I arched toward him instinctively, needing more.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, with a hint of command. “Let me make you feel good.”

The tension in my body built with every deliberate stroke of his tongue on my clit,  every soft press of his lips. I could feel my pulse racing, the heat spreading through me, getting more intense with every move he made. The way he took his time, exploring, licking, making sure I felt every inch of his attention, was driving me crazy. I couldn’t help the quiet moans that escaped my lips, each one only fueling his need to tease me further.

I could feel the pressure building, growing tighter and tighter inside me, until it was almost unbearable. His movements were steady, perfect, and it was clear he was enjoying the way I was coming undone beneath his touch. My body trembled with anticipation, and I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Professor… professor… I’m c-coming,” I gasped, my voice shaky as the words tumbled out before I could even stop them.

The moment I spoke, he pulled back slightly, his lips still brushing against me as he glanced up at me, his expression filled with a wicked, knowing smile.

“Call me James, babe,” he murmured, his voice rough and possessive. There was a playful edge in his tone, but underneath it was an unmistakable authority that sent another wave of heat rushing through me.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down—he kept moving with that same steady rhythm, drawing me closer to the edge again. The way he moved, the way he touched me, left me no choice but to surrender to the pleasure.

“James...” I gasped, the sound of his name falling from my lips like a plea, a release. It pushed me over the edge, and I couldn’t help but let go, the pleasure crashing through me in waves as I fell apart beneath his touch.

I could hardly catch my breath as the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed away, my chest heaving with each shallow inhale. Slowly, I sat up, trying to regain some sense of control, my body still trembling slightly from the release he’d given me.

But he wasn’t done. I felt his hand gently, yet firmly, guide me back, pushing me to lay across the desk.

“Did you think I was done, Y/n?” His voice was low, confident, full of quiet authority as he loomed above me, his eyes dark with intent. “I told you... now it’s my turn to play.”

His hands moved with purpose, his fingers undoing his shirt. I watched as he pulled it off, revealing his toned chest, each muscle defined and impossibly perfect in the soft light. The sight of him, so composed yet hungry for me, stirred something deep inside.

He unzipped his trousers, the sound of the zipper sharp in the otherwise quiet room. As he stepped closer, his gaze never left mine, steady and filled with something that made my heart race even faster.

“I know you want it, babe,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with unspoken promise. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this... to make you scream my name while I fuck your little pussy. I can feel it... the way you’ve been craving me, just like I’ve been craving you.”

I could feel the tension building again between us, the heat in the room growing almost unbearable. His hands moved firmly to my shoulders, guiding me back until I was lying flat across the desk, my heart racing with both anticipation and uncertainty. The shift in position made everything feel more intimate, more real, and I could feel my body instinctively surrendering to him.

His touch was possessive now, his hands gentle but unyielding, pressing me firmly against the desk. My breath hitched as he loomed over me, his presence a weight I couldn’t escape. Every movement he made was deliberate, as though he was savoring each second, each shift of power.

“You’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an unmistakable edge of command. His tone was both soothing and thrilling, the way he said my name sending a rush of heat through my body. The way he used it—like he was taking control—made my pulse quicken.

It felt as though every inch of my body was attuned to him, and I couldn’t help but let go of the resistance, letting myself sink into the moment, into the connection we shared.

His hands slid gently under my ass, lifting me as he positioned himself between my legs, his presence commanding. I could feel the weight of his touch as he leaned down, his lips brushing lightly over the inside of my thighs. The kiss was slow, deliberate, each movement sending a pulse of warmth through my body.

“You’re mine now, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin, sending shivers through me. “I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

He leaned in, starting moving slowly but sending shivers down my spine. Each thrust  was deliberate, slow—almost too slow for the need I felt building within me. My body wanted more, needed more, but he was taking his time, letting every moment stretch out, making me ache with wanting.

I could feel him shift slightly, his hands gently gripping my hips, pulling me closer, but still, he didn’t move any faster. The anticipation was maddening, and I couldn’t hold back the soft whimper that escaped my lips.

“Please,” I breathed, barely able to control myself. “Faster, please.”

His eyes locked onto mine as he paused, the intensity in his gaze making my heart race. There was a moment where I could feel his control slipping, but he only smiled slightly, the hint of a challenge in his eyes.

“You’re such a desperate girl, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost like a growl. There was a teasing edge to his words, but they only added to the heat building inside me. His tone, though commanding, held something more—a knowing that made me shiver in response.

The pace had quickened, and every movement he made sent waves of heat through me. His hands were gripping my hips, holding me in place as he thrust harder, faster. My breath was coming in ragged gasps, my chest rising and falling with each moment. I could feel every inch of him, the way his body moved with control and purpose, making every nerve in my body come alive.

I could feel his gaze on me, intense and dark with desire, as he continued to move with a rhythm that was both steady and relentless. “You wanted this, didn’t you?” he whispered, his hands sliding up to my ribs, his fingers curling slightly as he held me tighter, his thumb brushing over my skin.

“Yes,” I gasped, the word slipping out before I could stop it. I was already lost in the sensation, my mind spinning with the intensity of everything—his touch, his voice, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

Without missing a beat, he increased the pace again, and I couldn’t help but gasp, the sensation overwhelming. His movements were smooth, confident, his body pressing me down into the desk as I gripped the edges, my fingers digging into the cool surface. Every thrust sent shockwaves through me, the intensity building until I could feel my body starting to tremble with the pressure.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear, the sound of his voice sending a shiver through me. His words were a promise, something deeper, something real. “You feel so good, Y/N.”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a coherent thought. I was lost in the feeling of him, the way his body moved with mine, the way everything seemed to align as if we were both caught in the same moment, the same rhythm. The connection was undeniable, each touch, each thrust, drawing me closer to the edge.

My breaths were shallow now, the pressure building more and more. I could feel myself starting to tremble, my legs tightening around him, desperate for release. “James,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, but he heard it, responding without hesitation.

“What did you say, darling? I didn’t hear you” He said, looking at me with a smirk on his face. “Jame-” I tried to say but only a moan came. “I don't hear you babe” and he thrusted harder now and I felt dizzy for a second. “I told you I want you to scream my name, but I don’t listen nothing” “James, fuck me harder!” I cried, I don’t even know how my voice came. He looked at me with a smirk.

His hands moved down to my thighs, gripping them firmly, and he shifted, adjusting his position just enough to make the sensation even more intense. My body arched, a soft gasp escaping me as the new angle took over, the pressure building in all the right ways.

It was almost too much, but I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t pull away. I wanted this, needed this, and as the rhythm of his movements quickened again, I could feel my own body responding, chasing that overwhelming release.

" James... I'm close," I breathed, my voice shaky, barely a whisper. Every part of me was on fire, the heat inside me almost unbearable, but I couldn't stop it. I was caught between control and the overwhelming need to give in to what he was offering.

"Cum for me, Y/N, come all over my cock such a good girl you are" he whispered, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. The sound of his words sent a shiver down my spine, like a signal that it was okay to give in, to let the pressure that had been building inside me finally break free.

 I finally let go. The sensation hit me all at once, a wave of heat and release that took over, making my entire body tremble. I couldn’t stop the soft, breathless moans that slipped from me, each one an echo of the intensity coursing through me.

"I need just a bit more," he whispered, his voice strained. His hands gripped my hips tighter as he pulled me closer, urging me to meet his rhythm.

The pace quickened, the sounds of his breathing growing louder. His movements became more erratic, his grip on me tightening, his face a mix of focus and something deeper.

"Y/N..." he muttered, his breath catching. His body shuddered against mine, the tension finally snapping as he released a soft exhale, the rapid rise and fall of his chest matching the frantic rhythm of the moment.

For a few moments, we both stayed still, breathing heavily, connected in the quiet aftermath.

He gently guided me to sit, but I remained on the edge of the desk, my legs draped around his waist, as he stood just in front of me. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, his chest pressing against mine as we both caught our breath. I could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. We both smiled, a moment of quiet intimacy between us.

"Wow," I murmured, my voice still breathless. "That was intense."

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening slightly as if reassuring me. "I’m glad you liked it," he whispered, his voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. A playful glint danced in his eyes, but there was also something deeper, an intensity that lingered.

I looked up at him, my fingers tracing lightly over his shirt, my lips teasing the words I could feel bubbling up inside. "What if I wanted to play again?" I said, my voice soft but daring, the words laced with challenge.

He smirked, holding me a little tighter as if pulling me further into him. "If you play with me again, there will be consequences," he said, his tone playful yet firm.

I met his gaze, leaning in just slightly, my lips brushing near his ear. "Then I’ll gladly play again," I whispered, my voice a breath against his skin.

He chuckled softly, but then his expression shifted. He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, a serious edge creeping into his voice. "I forgot to mention something," he said. His hand moved to the back of my neck, his touch gentle but firm. "If I hear you talking the way you did earlier, with Professor Hammett, I’ll make you pay for it."

My heart skipped a beat at his words. I looked up at him, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Are you jealous, Professor?" I asked, my voice light, but there was a part of me that wanted to know just how he’d react.

His grip on me tightened, just enough to send a shiver through me, but his smile didn’t waver. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice rough but with a hint of warmth. "And maybe, just maybe, I’ll make you regret making me feel that way."

A playful laugh escaped me, but there was a softness in my chest, a warmth I couldn’t quite explain. Without another word, he leaned down, pressing his lips gently to mine and I wrapped my arms around his neck. It was slow at first, a tender kiss that deepened as we both surrendered to the quiet pull between us. When we finally broke away, his forehead rested against mine, our breaths coming in unison.

"I’ve wanted to do that for so long," he whispered, his voice thick with something more than just desire.

I smiled softly, running my fingers along the edge of his shirt, a quiet thrill coursing through me. "I think we both have a lot more to explore, don’t we?"

He chuckled, pulling me closer once more, his arms holding me as if to keep me from ever slipping away. "Definitely."

[gildedneon]

That Which I Cannot See

That Which I Cannot See - Part 1 - Pure Imagination

Respectfully, you may not use my work, but you are welcome to share it. My work is only intended for those 18 and older as it contains explicit adult themes.

Summary: Basically A Star is Born but make it Sleep Token. A video of you singing Take Me Back to Eden gets attention online and you're invited to sing backup vocals at their next concert. Only, you end up doing a lot more than just that. The first in what will be at least a 3 part series.

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader 

Tags: Hand stuff (for now), mask play, concealed identity play, obscured vision/partial blindfolding, is this a musical now?, shower play with the lights off, monster kink? if you squint?, spiritual cult leader Vessel, dirty talk.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I enjoy candlelit showers while blasting Sleep Token and inspiration struck one day while listening to Take Me Back to Eden. What if? So I wrote it. I have already planned out a part 2 & 3, so fear not, our journey has just begun.

Read on Ao3

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So there I was, doom scrolling Instagram when *ping*

“Sleep_Token: We loved your video” My brows furrow. That can’t actually be their official account. Tapping the notification, I switch to my finsta, where I post anonymous videos of myself singing. I recently shared a clip of an acoustic cover of Take Me Back to Eden that got a decent amount of attention, but I didn’t think it got that much attention. The message thread opens just as another is coming in. 

“Sleep_Token: How would you feel about joining us sometime?” What the hell? 

I click their profile. Blue check mark. Holy shit. Shock has me so caught up I can’t even think of a clever response. Or any response for that matter.

What does ‘joining us' mean? Like for an orgy or going to a show? Because I’m down for both, but I only have tickets for one of those things. At least my brain is still cracking jokes. I stare at my phone and figure out something to say.

“Hi! Thanks! I actually will be at the show this Friday. I can’t wait :)” My heart does a little somersault as I hit send. 

“Sleep_Token: Perfect. Our manager will reach out for details. Bring something black to wear. We’ve got the rest covered!”

What the fuck does that mean? Reaching out for details for what? What is ‘the rest’ and how is it ‘covered’???

*ping*

The DM from the manager comes in. 

On auto-pilot, I go back and forth with the manager. Realization sets in… I’m going to be backstage at the Sleep Token show. I’m going to meet the Espera and sing with them. On stage. At the Sleep Token show. Friday. In less than a week. What the fuck.

Four days… I have four days to perfect my outfit. Immediately, I FaceTime my best friend. She answers on the second ring.

“Callie… you’re never gonna believe this.”

“Alright??… spill bitch”

-------------

My stride lengthens to keep up with the woman leading me through bright lit hallways. The week had flown by in a blur. Now it’s Friday and I’m being led backstage in sweats and a tank. I hadn’t fully wrapped my head around their invitation. But what I really hadn’t wrapped my head around was what had been developing since that night. Once I had gotten off the phone with Callie, I saw I had a DM request from a username I didn’t recognize.

“Hey it’s V” I think my brain had short circuited. It all felt like it came out of nowhere. I guess that’s the thing about change, it doesn’t happen until it just… does. We had started chatting  and it continued throughout the week, getting to know each other a bit, what we enjoy, what we don’t, our favorite colors, and even a bit of flirting. Another strange development in a situation that materialized all too quickly. But it was exciting. It has been a while since I’ve been truly excited about something or …someone. 

I think it helps that we don’t really know each other. Our identities are a secret. It’s sort of like getting to know the contents of a box without getting to know the box, if that makes sense. It’s hard to explain, but I like it. Being myself comes easier this way. There are less distractions.

My guide comes to a stop and knocks on a door. Anticipation grips me as it opens, a woman dressed in black greets us with a smile on her face. 

“Come on in! We’re excited to meet you.” The Espera, or the three female background vocalists, usher me into the dressing room and to a spot in front of the mirror. Their welcoming energy helps quell my buzzing thoughts. We fall into easy conversation as I work on my hair and makeup. The dress I chose is sexy but functional. Thin straps, square neckline dipping in a quick plunge, finished off with a thigh high slit. My hair tumbles around my shoulders and down my back in a lion’s mane of waves. My lips are painted the darkest shade of red, the only real part of my face that will be seen from behind the gold mask that lays on the counter before me.

The Espera give me a crash course in backup vocals. No pressure, just last minute winging it in front of 13,000 people. I still can’t wrap my head around this, even as they help fit the mask to my face. It looks just like theirs, intricate bronze scrollwork curling down my cheeks, leaving only my mouth and jaw exposed. The mesh panels over the eyes allow me to make out shapes and light. So I can see plenty, but it doesn’t feel that way. For me, I might as well be blind. It’s the feeling of being out of control, a vulnerability that leaves me a bit raw and on edge.

A knock raps at the door and my ears grasp at every little sound, attempting to make up for my lack of sight. The women gather as it clicks open. Their blurry forms disappear to the sounds of scuffling shoes. The door closes. My blurred vision watches as a dark figure slowly makes its way across the mirrored space. Fully blind I would know it was him. The magnetism of his presence is threatening to drag me in like the gravity of a blackhole. It’s supermassive…

I hold my breath as he surveys me. It would be a lie to say that I am not intimidated under his gaze. Despite the disguise, the feeling of vulnerability remains.

“This suits you. How does it feel?” He purrs his approval. The tension in my chest eases. 

“Thank you. How does what feel?”

“Your transformation.”

“Transformation? Into what?” My breath hitches, I can see his dark figure looming behind me.

“Your true self.”

“I’m not really sure what you mean by that. As excited as I am, I am also a little nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?”

“I’m not sure if it’s one specific thing. I just don’t know what to expect. I’ve never done this before. I know I’m wearing a mask but it still feels scary to have people actually watching me. This is worlds away from posting anonymous videos online.”

“I can understand. For us, the disguises are about showing the parts of ourselves that do not feel comfortable in our daily lives. Whether that is because we feel they should be hidden or we lack a suitable outlet. So it’s really not a disguise at all, but a revelation. By wearing this mask, I take off the invisible one I wear everyday. I embody the aspects of myself that I wouldn’t otherwise. So ask yourself… What would that feel like for you? Who would you allow yourself to be if you knew you were free from judgement?”

“I think it would feel freeing. But how am I supposed to figure that out tonight?”

“A lot can happen in just one night.”

Unsure of what to say, I sigh and tilt my head. A gentle tap on the side of my mask is his response. I stare straight ahead, looking upon our blurry reflections in the mirror.

“Envision yourself right now. A different version of you, a fantasy. Who could you be? How would you carry yourself? What presence do you bring? Take a minute. Close your eyes if you need. Think of the answer and then feel it. Become it. This is the transformation. It is first in your mind and then, in your being.”

I take a breath, close my eyes, and do as he says. I see the masked version of me, painted with black, a version of me that no one knows. Not even myself. She can be anything. I can be anything. This essence blossoms in my bones, radiating until it anchors itself into my being. Excitement ripples under my skin. I open my eyes.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels… different. I see myself but also… more.”

Vessel tilts his head.

“I saw paint. On my neck and it ran down.” Skimming my hands over my arms to illustrate my point.

“Stand.” I pray my knees don’t give out as I follow his command.. His proximity sends little electric waves skating along my skin.

“You know it’s true what they say. Depriving one sense, heightens the others. Close your eyes.”

I do as he says. Anticipation coursing through me.

“Touch, for example.” 

His hands skate up my arms, over my bare shoulders to my neck. His fingers stroke along my skin, pressing into the muscles and working at the tension. Other parts of me start to crave the same and the weight of arousal settles between my thighs. I exhale a sigh. His fingertips play along my skin, alighting little sparks. Just as I’m being lulled into a daze, he stops. Moving away from me, he leans against the counter, silently staring. The vulnerability isn’t as uncomfortable now. Security has replaced whatever fear I felt before. He reaches for something on the counter.

“May I? I have an idea for you with this paint.” 

“You may.” I tease lightly and I hear the sound of spinning plastic. 

The light of the room is dimmed as he steps closer. Both hands come around my neck and fear takes root in an instant. What am I doing? I’m alone with a man who is dressed like a demon god, his hands are wrapped around my throat, and we are in a room where no one can hear me scream…probably. Oh no…. Should I be worried about how that turned me on?

Instead of squeezing the air from my lungs, he works the paint onto my skin. His fingers splay as he drags his hands down both sides of my neck. His fingernails scrape over my collarbones, stopping just before the neckline of my dress. My eyes fall closed and I can’t help the sigh that escapes or the shudder that runs through my body. Nor can I help imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on my thighs. Leaving a sinful trail of evidence, as he explored more sensual areas of my body. Circling behind me, his hands clasp my arms, leaving one last mark.

“Look at yourself.” His deep voice jarring me from my haze. Even with my obscured vision, I can clearly see the twin trails of black that drag down my neck, stopping just before my breasts and the stark handprints on my upper arms.

“It looks like I’ve been marked by a monster.” I say, amusement clear in my tone. 

Silence. A brief moment of tension, then his hand wraps around my throat. He leans closer to me.

“Are you calling me a monster?” His teasing is mixed with tones of darkness. I shudder at the thrill. 

“No. Monsters are scary and I’m not scared of you” …Yet 

“Do you want to be scared of me?” His voice is low in my ear.

“Maybe a little” Maybe more than a little.

I see his head tilt in the mirror. I can’t see his eyes but I feel them flaying me alive, gleaning every dark desire snaking through my body. He releases me, putting a bit more distance between us. 

“As much as I would love to explore that, it’s about time we get ready to go on. You’ll be brilliant. If you get nervous just remember my touch and how it’s plain for everyone to see.” I could feel him wink at me as he said that. It wasn’t the worst suggestion. That would certainly distract my thoughts from wandering into anxiety, but it would distract me in other ways. Blushing, I step through the door he holds for me, and follow him down the hall.

-------------

Like a cutscene in a movie, suddenly I’m on stage and the show is taking off. The lights and sounds are overwhelming. I allow myself a few minutes to adjust. Slowly, I begin to pick up the swaying movements from the Espera. Taking cues from their hazy shapes. Then, I allow my voice to softly join theirs. The flashing mass of screaming fans mere feet away is difficult to tune out, but I let them blur into shapes through my mask and my voice rises to the music. With each song they play, my confidence grows, and I feel that vision of myself, from the dressing room, coming to life.

Well, I know what you want from me

You want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception

Setting you free, so you take what you want and leave

Excitement strikes like lightning. Of course I knew this song was coming, but being a part of it? Dancing while every instrument reverberates through my body?  

Won’t you come and dance in the dark with me?

Tapping into that sensual side of me, I allow it to take form, my hips swaying to the rhythm. I trail my fingertips over my body, and pleasure ripples behind my touch. Hearing whispers of my voice wafting through the background is unreal.

Lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails

I once made a comment to Callie about how I fantasize about being in an orgy while this song plays because it never fails to turn me on. The way the beat builds and morphs, the lyrics on top of that, it feels like seduction. My voice vibrates through my being, sparking a dark desire that flares with the melody. My eyes fall shut as I remember our time together in the dressing room. I feel his phantom touch along my skin and surrender myself to the sensations.

You make me wish I could disappear

The music dies down, somber notes begin to rise. Recognition flutters in my heart. This is the song that first drew my attention to him… and his attention to me. My eyes snap open on instinct, despite my obstructed view, I see a dark figure approach me, blocking out the crowd. My heart begins to race. I tilt my masked face up at his towering form. He grabs my hand and leads me from behind my place in the background. There we are, front and center. I have no idea what he is doing or what he expects of me. My blood roars through my ears, beating against the tense curiosity of the all too quiet crowd. Curious cheers ring out, but my focus is drawn to him.

I dream in phosphorescence 

Bleed through spaces

My nails scrape restlessly against the fabric of my dress. I have no idea what he wants from me. We never talked about this. Am I just supposed to stand here? Am I supposed to sing a specific part or harmony? My thoughts race as panic begins to sink its claws into me. 

His finger curls under my chin. The gentle weight of him pulls me from the quicksand of my mind. 

I’m transfixed as he sings to me.

My, my those eyes like fire I’m a winged insect you’re a funeral pyre. 

A calm intensity settles in as I focus on the figure before me. Like a siren song his entire being draws me in until there is no one else. No crowd. Not even the band. Just him and me.

The music begins to build. I feel it in my chest. His hand lightly strokes my chin in invitation. The energy builds in my stomach and moves up my throat. God, it feels like it’s going to burst out of me. So I close my eyes and let it.

I will travel far beyond the path of reason. Take me back to Eden. Take me back to Eden

Our melody turns into harmonious wails. 

Take me back to Edeeeennn

My eyes open to a flash of white teeth as he grins down at me, the music continuing its heavy intensity. That grin against his mask and paint, looks every bit like the monster I mentioned. The music drops into a quiet tempo and he steps closer, leaning in as his hood brushes my cheek. 

“Stay.” He commands, before sauntering off, just as three chords are played. 

Well yeah I spit blood when I wake up

He crouches towards the swarming crowd as he recites the lines. Waving hands and screaming smiles line the front of the crowd. As I watch him move across the stage, I remember his painted marks on my skin. My cheeks burn as he approaches me again.

I need you to see me for what I have become

Long fingers wrap around mine, bringing my hand to grasp the microphone, joining him for the chorus. 

My, my those eyes like fire 

My voice is a sweet backdrop contrasting his, as we sing together until the beat drops off. The hand folded atop mine loosens, his arm falling slack and I let go of the mic. His free hand sneaks through my hair, cradling my head in his hand. The sounds of birds chirping flit around the notes of the piano. This intimate moment sets me ablaze as I remember there are thousands of people watching. Jealousy licks at my sides from the scrutiny of their gaze. I pay them no mind. 

His hands fall from my hair, as he lifts the mic, but sings to me.

I guess it goes to show does it not 

That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it

His words resonate through my chest. Understanding the opportunity tonight presents, I want to make the most of this night, of this connection, and just enjoy whatever is to come.

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence

Sound pours from me as I join him singing once again. The music sweeps me along and I ascend with it.

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

What happens next takes me by surprise. Vessel loops an arm around my waist, drawing me in until my dress brushes against his belt. He screams the ending lines with such intensity I feel as if I’m being hit by a hurricane. I can barely make out what he’s saying. My heart seizes with another little thrill of fear. All I see is the fierce glint of teeth through the contortions of his mouth as the music fades out. 

Piano keys begin to play, as he leads me back to my place among the Espera. This is the last song of the show, Euclid. What a beautiful note to end on. I channel all the joy in my little heart into singing this final song. I know maybe the lyrics aren’t the happiest but I can’t help but feel light while singing it. Our voices fade out, as he brings things to a close.

The whites of your eyes, turn black in the lowlight

So give me the night, the night, the night…

-------------

We stopped by the dressing room long enough for me to grab my belongings and then he was leading me through more hallways. He holds a door open for me and I step into a gaudy locker room. Leading the way, I follow him through the space and into a long room. The harsh fluorescence glares off of the white tile lining the walls. On the left, is a mirrored wall of sinks and who knows what else. On the right, benches border each door frame, opening into showers. 

We walk a few stalls down, I hang my tote and arrange my clothes on the bench as he wanders away. Pulling out a hair tie, I twist my hair up into a messy bun. Butterflies twist through my belly as he returns to my side, hanging a towel on my hook. We’ve shared this entire night, this entire week, without seeing each other’s face, perhaps we’ve seen a deeper truth. Either way, I’m not ready for it to end.

Inspiration strikes and I stride back to the main door and begin to flick the lights off one by one until all that is left is the glow of the adjoining locker room. His masked face tilts as his attention focuses on me. Grabbing the door handle, I pull it closed behind me until only a necessary sliver of light shines through. Giving my eyes a second to adjust, I carefully make my way back to my bench. I feel another thrill of excitement at the atmosphere. The near pitch black, the silence all around us, almost like something you’d see in a scary movie. I hear clothes rustling from the bench he is at. I’m still working on undoing the straps of my heels when I hear the harsh splash of water against tile. Once all of my outfit has made it into my tote, I take cautious steps into the awaiting shower.

“I wanted to keep the mystery going but maybe it’s a bit too dark.” So dark, that I can barely make out the other person in my proximity. My hands feel along the cool tiles for support.

“Give it a minute. Your eyes will adjust.” He’s calm. Still. Giving me space to acclimate. No longer clutching at the wall, I can make out the shape of him easier. Barely, I see the steam from the water and pumps of soap attached to the wall.

“Will they adjust enough to be able to tell the difference between which is the soap and which is the conditioner?” I tease.

“Hmm might have to go with good ole trial and error on that” Our laughter echoes against the walls. 

Stepping closer, I let my gaze wander. The lines of his muscles catch what little light there is. My breath hitches, the difference in our height is exaggerated now that I am barefoot. The way he looms over me keeps his face masked in shadow. Again, the thrill of being alone with this strange, dark god shivers through me, bringing my awareness back to the arousal that has been burning all night.

“Well I will gladly volunteer as the test subject.” 

“And I will gladly accept. I didn’t want to assume…”

“I would actually prefer if you do assume.” I step closer to him. Even in the pitch black I can see his head tilt down at me.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

“I did.  I’ve never experienced anything like it.” I say almost reverently.

“Shall we keep the experience going then?” A shiver runs through my body

“Yes.” I breathe..

“Sing for me?” My brows jump up. Posting videos of me singing alone in my house and singing background vocals could not prepare me for this.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything” My mind goes blank all for one song. I take a deep breath to still my nerves. 

Come with me, and you’ll be, in a world of pure imagination

Tentatively, I recite the words.

Take a look and you’ll see

Into your imagination

There is no life I know

To compare with pure imagination

His voice joins mine. 

Living there, you’ll be free

I stop, allowing him to finish the verse

If you truly wish to be

Courage is easier found in the dark I realize, when my hands begin to trail along his chest and I continue singing.

If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it

Anything you want to, do it

My long nails gently scrape across his abs as his fingers trace the black paint along my chest.

“What a mess I’ve made.” The timbre of his voice sends desire rushing through me. Reaching back, he grabs something from one of the dispensers and lathers his hands. The creamy substance spreads down my shoulders as he begins to work out the tension in my muscles. His hands began to slip down to above my breasts. Working in slow circles. The combination of excitement and desire keeps my mind sharp despite the haze of lust. His thumbs swipe across my skin with a delicious pressure. Grasping the tops of my arms, he leans towards me and my lips hum in anticipation. His mouth grazes past my cheek. 

“I think… this is conditioner” He murmurs in my ear. I can’t help the surprised giggle that escapes me. I can feel his amusement even as he turns from me. The muted clicks of the dispenser can be heard over the shower stream. When he faces me again, the energy shifts. A thrill runs through me as he grabs the back of my neck with one hand.

“May I?” He echoes the familiar words he spoke earlier in the night.

“You may.” I breathe and his lathered hand begins running down my neck, as his other creeps up into my hair. My head tilts back. The glow from the distant light flashes off his sharp grin. His hand moves lower down my chest, as he works at the paint there. I’m not sure which is more arousing. Him painting me or washing it off. My nipples harden and a dull throb settles between my thighs just as his large hand sweeps over my breast. His fingers capture my nipple, flexing and rolling against my soft skin. I exhale shakily as he moves on to the other, giving it the same treatment. Grabbing my hips, he pulls me into the water, washing away his claim, his touch laying stake to a new one. Then he flips me around, I catch myself on the cool tile wall. As he steps closer, I can feel him pressed against me. 

“I very much enjoyed having my mark on you, clear for everyone to see.” His voice is low against my ear, as his lips drag over my neck, gently nipping at my skin. The hand on my right hip slides down my thigh. My legs tense in anticipation. His fingers begin swiping in teasing strokes, closer and closer to where I burn for his touch. 

“Tell me, what has you so wet for me?” I let out a whimper as his fingertips slide through the evidence of his claim. 

“Was it on stage? When I whispered in your ear?” Stay. I shook my head. That definitely turned me on but it wasn’t where it started. The memory of us in the dressing room, with his hands around my neck flickers through my mind. Just that quick thought stokes the already well fanned flames of arousal.

“Before the show in the dressing room” I say and receive a hum of approval. I’m rewarded as his finger dips inside me ever so slightly. His strokes are shallow, only increasing my need for him.

“What about it?” His fingers slow, urging me to respond. It’s hard to think through the fog of my desire.

“When you painted my neck.” Relief washes over me as he picks up his still too slow pace. His left hand moves from my hip, trailing over my fluttering stomach, paying brief attention to my breast, before sliding around my throat. My thighs clench around his hand before I can help myself, my body vibrating with anticipation.

“Ah so this is what you like?” His grip tightens as he speaks and my hips rock back desperate for more than this teasing. All I accomplish is grinding my ass against his cock. He inhales sharply but presses himself fully against me. 

“So eager.” He laughs. “Is this what you’ve wanted?” His fingers still move at a languid pace, but curl deeper inside me.

“Yes” I nod enthusiastically.

“But it’s not enough is it?” I shake my head. Because despite the pleasure I felt, the need was greater. The need to feel more of him, to have more of him. He obliges, sliding in a second finger. I cry out, my cheeks heat from embarrassment at the echo. I press my lips together, stifling my moans. His fingers still. He leans forward, his chest against my back, pressing me into the wall.

“Don’t stop singing for me now” He purrs and the rumble in his chest vibrates through my own.

“It’s just you and me. There’s no one else.”

I exhale heavily as my mouth parts. Right away, he rewards me with deliberate strokes of his fingers. The hand around my neck lazily works at the muscles there and waves of ecstasy shoot through me. My nails catch on the grout between the tiles as pleasure begins to coil tight in my muscles. I’m lost in the way my moans reverberate around us as his thumb carefully starts working my clit. It’s consuming. The stretch of his fingers, dragging over every sensitive spot inside me, playing my body like an instrument. His hips roll against my backside, grinding against me. I can feel the hard length of him, thick and hot against me. I begin to crave more and the thought alone of feeling all of him inside me brings me towards the peak. 

“Someday I will have all of you and you will have all of me. Until then I will have the memory of how wet and tight you are around my fingers. Wishing you were wrapped around my cock instead.” My hips rocked, practically riding his hand as the pleasure ramping up inside me spun so tight I felt it would snap at any moment. “Every time I look at my hand I want to remember how it felt to have you come on my fingers.” A ragged cry left my throat as his words pushed me over the edge. The tension inside me broke. Shattered shards of pleasure sliced through me as my body shook. His hand slipped out of me and I felt him work himself against my ass. Tremors skittered through me as I began to come down from my high. The cooling fire in my core alighting anew at the knowledge that he would soon follow. The hand around my neck had slid to brace himself against the wall.

“I want to feel you claim me again.” Shortly after those words left my mouth, I heard him groan. He shuddered against me as I felt hot spurts of him against my hip and back. His cheek came to rest against the top of my head. We stayed pressed against the wall as our breathing and heart rates slowed.

“Well I’m afraid I’ve made a bigger mess than when we started.” My body vibrates against his as I laugh. He pulls me back to the water and gets to work cleaning me off.

“Ves. Thank you, for tonight.” The nickname felt a bit strange on my tongue but appropriate given the standing of our relationship now.

“The pleasure was mine. Thank you for joining us and thank you for indulging me.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“I’m flattered… We will see each other again, you know.” Now it’s my turn to tilt my head at his words.

“Will we?” The possibility hadn’t even crossed my mind. Everything happened so fast.

“If you would like… There is still so much left to explore.” Even in my sated state, the purr of his words spark arousal. 

“Oh I think I would like that very much.” Tension crackles between us. God if I don’t get out of here I’m going to be in over my head. Exhaustion was starting to creep into my bones. 

“I think it’s past my bedtime.” I say with a yawn. That gets a little laugh out of him.

“Well you run along home before I’m inclined to drag you back into this cave and never let you go.” Again, he’s teasing, but the edge in his voice promises something darker. “Or someone comes looking for us and turns all those awful lights on.” His hands grip my shoulders as he leans down and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “We wouldn’t want to ruin the mystery.”

“We sure wouldn’t” Reluctantly, I walk away. I dry off the lingering evidence of what just occurred between us, slip into my clothes, and return to the harsh light of reality.

[problematicbyler]

an incomplete history of byler sexuality discourse

and how widespread fandom purity culture and homophobia created a flourishing nsfw sub-fandom

some may call me chronically online, but i call myself a fandom historian. i've been a member of some fandom or another since i was about thirteen, and i've always been interested in the rise and fall of fandom discourse. though it's annoying in the moment it's happening, i think it's very interesting and telling to look back at the overall arcs and trends.

so, let's talk about the many times the fandom has cancelled people over byler sexuality, and how each level of "hornygate" has contributed to the growth of the proship/byler smut community.

(i use the term proship in its intended definition, which is to say, not "problematic shipping," but rather being pro-fiction, anti-censorship, and anti-harassment; it is a position of believing the fiction one creates or consumes doesn't reflect a person's real life beliefs or morals.)

i have been a stranger things lover since season 1, a byler shipper since season 2, and an active part of the byler community on tumblr since season 4. i'll mostly be focusing on post-season 4 discourse because that's what i've really been most present for and that was the period that really marked a turning point in the fandom.

seasons 1-3

i wasn't as plugged into fandom discourse back in the day, but the broad strokes of early discourse was mostly thinly veiled homophobia. claiming that it was sexualization to assume will or mike could be queer despite blatant queer coding, implying that analysts were no better than will's bullies to assume his sexuality, etc etc. people were criticized for shipping byler at all because they were so young (but these people naturally had no issue with mileven, so, again, homophobia).

season 4 (may-july 2022)

now, season 4. this is where byler was brought to the attention of a lot more fans, and stranger things' viewership reached wider than ever. the byler fandom on tumblr booms from 4k to 100k over the course of season 4's release.

this brought a lot of new people who have never been in fandoms before, people who never learned don't like don't read or your kink is not my kink and that's okay or ship and let ship.

or, a lot of times, people who had only been in fandoms for celebrities and bands, which tend to have different rules when it comes to shipping and sex, because they're real people. hence a lot of young antis' conflation of character with their actors, but that's a different rant.

so with a rapidly growing fandom, a show ripe for analysis, and the art of media literacy bleeding out on the ground in front of us, the hellscape of the fandom post-season 4 in 2022 followed as such:

august 2022

jo/kendra gate where two extremely popular analysts were called out for "sexualizing" byler while being adults (early to mid 20s). they were dogpiled and harassed because one of them said that will was giving mike "bedroom eyes" (he was) and one of them said mike was checking will out (he was):

pyshiie and moogate. the proship side of byler twitter rose up and started to divide itself. i'll credit my own joining-the-dark-side to pyshiie and moo, formerly barbjeanisms, who were two popular artists called out respectively for sexualizing byler and generally being proship. similarly, people were called out and criticized for even following or interacting with those accounts after this discourse.

september 2022

hosegate is the most famous across the byler fandom, and it's when some users proposed that the scene in the pizzeria uses phallic imagery to imply mike turns will on (or vice versa) and a lot of people thought that was too sexualized, it caused a divide, and more fanpolicing, etc.

october 2022

the artist noodlesandtea was harassed for having liked arguably nsfw bakudeku art (they were shirtless, it wasn't explicit) on the same account where they draw characters who are minors. they also drew byler kissing, which was a problem for some? anyone who defended them was also called a pedo, naturally. noodles also got called out for having drawn fanart of the popular e-rated fanfiction....

the unmarked mixtape. a massively popular sequel to a massively popular fic, the red envelope. for a long time, those were the most widely recommended byler fics, but it very soon became taboo to even admit to reading them because the sequel has explicit sex and the first has them making out.

sonnet116 gate is another fic that was beloved and then rapidly turned on by byler twitter because it had implied, fade to black sex scenes. it was about them hooking up but had no smut. and even the non explicit idea of that was offensive and pedophilic of anyone who dared read it. around this time, another fic was called out for having will moaning into a kiss, because writing a teenager moaning was also offensive and pedophilic.

i'm told i (jana / troublebyler gate?) may have influenced a lot of people joining twitter for byler smut after writing illicit affairs and some other smutty oneshots in rapid succession, seeing a lot of byler shippers moving to the proship side of the fandom just to discuss and write byler smut. i also hosted a little fandom gossip column on my curiouscat where a lot of folks confessed to reading or writing smut while pretending to be "normal" in the "main" fandom. it basically revealed/implied that a large amount of popular authors, artists, and accounts were secretly pro byler smut, and that many proshippers were "undercover" in the "main" fandom.

the blocklist era. around this time the "main" fandom also created a "st twt safety" account on twitter which was basically targeted harassment and mass reporting of proshippers. the account does warn of some genuine bad actors sending gore images via dms, being racist, etc. but by far, the majority of it was simply calling out proshippers for sexualizing byler, sharing screenshots they thought were "gross," which only resulted in spreading nsfw content to unintended audiences of minors that likely never would have seen the nsfw accounts otherwise.

november 2022

practice kissing gate is where a handful of popular fic writers were criticized for writing practice kissing fics (such as undertow), and in fact, any amount of byler making out, because adults "fantasizing" about teenagers kissing was "gross."

the proship corner of st twitter continued to grow a lot thanks to so many lovely fan creators, all of whom i couldn't possibly list but who have done a lot for the community! but we continued to get bombarded with endless callout posts and block lists and witch hunting. people were unabashedly policing people's following lists and likes on twitter to call people out for engaging with any questionable users or content. (if you search byler twitter now you can still see the wreckage of so many witch hunts.)

onward through 2023

over time things have mostly calmed down, or at least enough of the folks on "opposing sides" of the fandom have mutually blocked each other to survive. this is likely also influenced by the hiatus leaving the fandom to quiet down, the collapse of twitter-turned-x having many users migrate their fandom content elsewhere, and the mass exodus of many people from the fandom for political reasons. if i had to guess, the ramp-up to season 5 will see all new conflict as more "casual" fans return to the fandom. but who's to say.

which brings us to now:

spicybylerpolls gate, wherein the byler tag on tumblr collectively had to reckon with the fact that people want byler to have sex and it doesn't make them creeps to vote in silly polls about it. people criticized the blog for being overly sexualized and pure fantasy versus more "acceptable" analysis, with many making sweeping moralizing statements about anyone who dared interact with the blog.

this has kicked off tumblr's own sort of horny revolution in encouraging folks to be more open on here, whereas previously we were confined to our corner of twitter.

so in summary:

people over and over again put fan creators on a pedestal just to turn on them when they're "betrayed" when a person's views did not one-to-one line up to theirs.

teens in the fandom especially were "betrayed" by adults in the fandom they thought were "safe" (and i would argue that self proclaimed "safe" adults in fandom are far more dangerous to real life minors than the proship fans who sexualize fictional characters but dont interact with real teens)

most everything has been fueled by widespread ageism at any fan over the age of 18, widespread homophobia and puritanism in regards to exploring queer sexuality or discussing sex at all

so much hate has been over what are essentially "thought crimes", with people watering down serious accusations like pedophilia into a petty insult over disagreements on fiction

and the cycle repeats itself endlessly until things devolve back into witch hunting and policing peoples following and likes etc

the best part to me is that every single cancellation just resulted in more people flooding to the horny side of the fandom to post more freely and without shame. every time a person on twitter posted screenshots of my account to say how "gross" it was (while simultaneously exposing my 18+ nsfw content to their audience of minors) i had a surge in followers. the more the fandom squeezes, the more people slip from its hold.

but that doesn't make the harassment campaigns okay, and it doesn't mean the fandom didn't do massive amounts of harm to real people in an attempt to protect fictional characters.

my hope going forward is that the fandom can coexist as a community where people don't have to like or agree with certain content to treat the people who create it with respect and dignity. and i hope that, while this side of the fandom might grow more on tumblr, we don't have to relive the same old discourses and go through the same cycles we went through on twitter.

and remember kids, the block button is both free and fun.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

fool for you | kmg (18+)

where you and mingyu have a pact to always spend valentine's day together when you're single pairing: kim mingyu x f.reader genre: friends to lovers; fluff, smut rating: explicit; minors DNI warning: mentions of drinking (they're not drunk), some swearing, mingyu is described as a puppy, kissing, light marking, mentions of some biting, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex (be safe), one use of a pet name (baby), i think that's it but if you see something else, lemme know! word count: ~4.8k a/n: this is for a valentine's day collab by the lovely @playmetheclassics @here4btsfics and @missgeniality. thank you for planning this. and to one of my favorite people, @ugh-yoongi this is for you, happy love day! banner credit: @classicscreations, thank you bby

It’s always been like this with you and your best friend since you were teenagers. Ever since that awful (read: not that bad, you were just a dramatic teenager) break-up you went through in your second year of high school just before Valentine’s Day. All because your boyfriend didn’t want to have to buy you anything. Which was dumb, you think, because you were teenagers and you weren’t exactly expecting some grand gesture. Not when you’d been dating for less than a year. 

But you were upset in that angsty teenager kind of way and Mingyu swooped in to try and fix it, in true best friend fashion. He showed up at your house that night with all your favorite snacks and some movie that you couldn’t remember. What you did remember, though, was your promise to always be each other’s Valentine’s date if you were both single. It wasn’t as much for him as you and you knew that. You couldn’t help it, you just loved love and the idea of spending the day with someone special. Which he was to you. 

Now it’s been 10 years since you made the promise to each other. Those 10 years have seen you both through finishing high school, going to college, countless dates, and so much change. The only thing that hasn’t changed is always making time for each other, no matter what else was going on. Mingyu is your best friend and you know you’re his. You’re sure nothing can change that.

And since you’re both actually adults now (kind of), you can go out to dinner for Valentine’s Day at a nice place with good food. Some of your other friends think it’s weird, that you go out on what’s essentially a date on the “most romantic” day of the year. That’s when you always chime in to remind everyone that Valentine’s Day is about love, not just romantic relationships. You and Mingyu do love each other, always have. Why not celebrate that?

“Cheers to another year spent with my favorite person,” you say and raise the glass of champagne, a complimentary one for all reservations that night. 

“Yeah I guess you’re okay,” Mingyu agrees when he clinks his glass against yours. 

“Wow, I see how it is,” you retort and he smiles. 

“I’m always happy when we get to do this, you know that,” Mingyu says.

“Maybe,” you shrug, “doesn’t hurt to hear it again.”

“Ah yes, the attention monster reappears,” Mingyu says and you roll your eyes without any real annoyance behind it.

“Hey, I was really good when you were dating Nayeon,” you protest. “I just like getting to hang out with my best friend.”

“You’re right,” he concedes. 

You’re expecting him to say more because you haven’t really talked about the breakup even though it’s been about a month. “That’s it?”

“What?” he asks, reaching for a roll in the center of the table. 

“I just, I don’t know, we haven’t really talked about what happened with her,” you say. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Mingyu says. It’s more of a shrug than anything as he grabs a roll. “You knew we were having problems.”

This kind of sparks your interest, so you pull the butter away before he can reach it. At first, a look of betrayal flashes across his face. Playful, of course. And then he’s pouting. God, he’s such a puppy sometimes. Just a giant goofball who has no idea how big he is.

“I know you were having problems,” you finally say to correct him. “Last time I saw you and her together, she seemed happy.”

Mingyu just looks at you for a second. “She didn’t like my friends and it just got old. I was sick of having to justify hanging out with them.”

“Well your friends are idiots,” you say and hand over the butter. 

“And to think they always talk about how much they love you,” he says and you laugh. 

“I love them too, but they’re still idiots. Both can be true,” you say. 

“Yeah, well, Nayeon didn’t see it that way, so,” Mingyu trails off with a shrug. 

You reach a hand across the table and his hand meets yours instinctively. “I know I joke around with you, but I am sorry. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” he insists and you frown. “Come on, I’ve still got you and some amazing friends. I’m good.”

“Okay,” you agree and reluctantly pull your hand back.

“Besides, I think it’s you we need to talk about,” he says and your brow furrows. 

“What about me?” you ask, a little nervous to hear the answer because it is Mingyu, after all.

“Did you forget that it was Seokmin who introduced you to Jeonghan?” Mingyu asks and he’s got that little smirk that you really fucking hate sometimes. Shithead.

“I didn’t forget,” you say and pretend to find the drink menu interesting even though you’ve already ordered.

“Nope, sorry,” Mingyu says and plucks the menu from your hand. “I told you about Nayeon.”

“You two dated for like 9 months? It wasn’t the same?” you point out incredulously.

“And you ghosted him,” Mingyu barks out with a laugh. “The poor guy, he was heartbroken.”

“Oh, he was not,” you scoff. “There wasn’t any spark.”

“That damn spark,” Mingyu says with a shake of his head. 

And because sometimes life is actually fair, the appetizer shows up and distracts Mingyu from any further line of questioning. He’s been wanting to try this restaurant since it opened. You’re not really sure why he never went with Nayeon. It’s a win for you though. And Mingyu loves food. He’s an incredible cook, but who would ever mind someone else cooking for them? 

It’s also kind of cute. Mingyu is this giant ball of energy, exactly like the puppy you compared him to earlier. More like a golden retriever actually, because he can be smart and also very dumb. He’s always moving until he passes out. He’s fiercely loyal. But when he’s happy and eating something like this, he just kind of slows down, gets focused. There’s something endearing about it.

Dessert is always the same for the two of you too. You pretend that you only want a bite or two of whatever Mingyu orders and end up eating most of it while he pouts until you order something else. Part of you thinks that you should just order two to start, the other part kind of likes your little tradition. There are a lot of things that you like doing with Mingyu. This is your favorite though, this stupid little Valentine’s Day tradition. Maybe it’s the comfort or the safety. Maybe it’s knowing that even if you’re dating someone shitty, Mingyu will always be there.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks, grabbing a bite of cake with his fork.

“Not sure when we started asking if we could ask questions, but go on,” you say. 

“What’s the real reason you didn’t give Jeonghan a chance?” Mingyu asks and that makes you look up suddenly.

“I already told you,” you answer.

“Not sure when we started avoiding answering things, but go on,” he says, throwing your line back at you.

“I mean, it’s true, I didn’t feel a spark and I don’t know,” you say as you search for the words. “I guess I just don’t wanna be wasting my time dating someone when it’s not going to go anywhere.”

“You never know though,” he says and you can’t really pinpoint the emotion.

“I don’t know,” you say and think for a second. “Have you ever just gone on a date and been sitting across from someone that’s nice and smart and funny and attractive, literally everything you should want but…it’s just, not there?”

Mingyu chuckles even though it’s not really funny. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

“And, okay, like part of me was also thinking that this holiday was coming up. So I either had to just shut it down or agree to do something with him,” you say and look down, embarrassed about what you’re going to admit. “I just kind of thought I’d rather spend tonight with you, someone I know I like being around, rather than in some sort of new, probably undefined, relationship with him. Like what if he picked a shitty restaurant or made shitty plans? What if we run out of things to talk about?”

“Wait, you turned him down so you could spend Valentine’s Day with me?” Mingyu asks, eyes wide.

“Come on, not like that,” you say and ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “Just, I don’t know, we always have fun.”

“You like doing this with me,” Mingyu says and you roll your eyes.

“Course I do, Gyu,” you answer easily.

“What if it was like that, though?” he asks and you cock your head to the side. “Like what if we were on a date and it wasn’t just another Valentine’s Day with friends?”

“Mingyu, we’re not…” you start and falter at the look on his face. “Are you serious?” 

“You do realize that I’ve actually never been in a relationship on Valentine’s Day, right?” he asks and that stupid smirk is back. 

“You must’ve been, we haven’t done this every year,” you say and you’re trying to wrack your brain to see if it’s true. 

“No, you’re right, we haven’t. We’ve missed 3 since we made the deal when we were fifteen, all when you were in a relationship,” Mingyu says and you’re at a loss for words. 

“Does that mean…?” you try to ask but your mouth just can’t see to catch up with your brain and your heart. 

“Do you wanna get out of here and go back to my apartment? It might be easier to talk there,” he says and you just nod. 

It’s a lot of information to process and for once, Mingyu is quiet by your side. His hand is firm around yours, which doesn’t feel like a big deal because you’ve held hands for years. Except that it’s entirely different now. And when he needs it back so he can actually drive with both his hands, a part of you misses the comfort of it. Misses the security. 

You’re quiet in the elevator and on the walk to his front door, quiet as you walk through the doorway. Even the apartment is quiet, which is surprising given how loud one of Mingyu’s roommates tends to be. But the place is empty, apparently, as Mingyu tells you when he breaks the silence to ask if he can take your coat to hang it up. It’s a strange feeling for a lot of reasons. Right now it’s strange to have Mingyu taking care of you when it’s usually the other way around.

It’s quiet again as you walk the familiar path to the living room to sit down while Mingyu makes you a cup of tea. When he hands it to you, you know that it’ll be perfect because Mingyu’s been your best friend for over a decade and he knows everything about you. And that’s when you realize. Maybe he knew this too. Maybe he’s a step ahead of you in realizing there are real feelings here. Maybe he’s the one you can depend on. 

“How long?” you ask, figuring you need to speak eventually.

“Have I liked you?” he asks, needing clarification. You only nod. When he doesn’t answer immediately, you look over at him. Study his face in profile before he answers. “It’s kind of a long answer, I guess. I had a crush on you that first Valentine’s Day, but I figured you also just needed a friend. And I realized how much I did love our friendship. Plus we were kids.”

He takes a breath to collect his thoughts. “I haven’t been in love with you for 10 years, just to be clear,” he says and chuckles. “Not that I haven’t thought about it either. Mostly it’s just been that you were my best friend and we went on these little friend dates and I didn’t think too deeply about it.”

“Did something change?” you ask, still not ready to address your own feelings. 

“I’m not sure how to explain it. Nayeon and I were just kind of throwing out things for Valentine’s Day even though it was still over a month away. And she made a comment about how she hoped you’d have someone so you wouldn’t be missing me,” Mingyu says and frowns. 

“She isn’t exactly the first to not like it,” you say quietly. 

“It wasn’t even that, it was all me,” Mingyu says honestly. “I started to think about how I wouldn’t get to spend it with you and that was…a wake-up call. Nayeon and I broke it off not much after that. And honestly, what I said about my friends was true. She hated Seokmin.”

“How does anyone hate him? He’s a sunshine baby,” you say and Mingyu laughs. “Minghao I get, maybe, because he can be mean if he doesn’t like you. But not Seokmin.”

“Right?” he agrees. “So I was thinking about you and us and trying to sort things out when Seokmin said he was going to introduce you to Jeonghan and my heart broke. I couldn’t imagine having just broken it off with Nayeon only to still not get to see you for our tradition. That’s when I knew for sure. And we aren’t kids anymore.”

“So, like, what do we do now?” you ask, and Mingyu studies you for a moment.

“What do you want to do?” he asks. “I mean, are you…oh my god, why is this so hard? I just told you how I felt but I don’t know…”

He’s rambling and it’s incredibly endearing because he doesn’t usually get flustered like this. It also makes you realize that he’s laid everything out while you’ve said almost nothing. You rest a hand on his leg to stop him from stuttering through things. “Hey, I realize I didn’t say this. But I do have feelings for you too.”

“You do?” Mingyu asks, his whole face lighting up.

“Yeah, dummy, that’s what I really meant when I was talking about sitting across from Jeonghan not feeling the spark. He’s a great guy but he’s not you,” you say easily. 

“What do we do now?” Mingyu asks, making you laugh. 

“I mean like I really wanna kiss you, so,” you say, watching as his eyes go wide, just for a moment. 

And then he’s sliding over on the couch, gently tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, so careful like he can’t tell if it’s all really happening. So cautious. It’s at odds with your best friend who’s always tripping over his own feet and never seems to know just how big he is. Your whole body is hyper-aware of his and even though he admitted his feelings first, you’re still a little worried that this isn’t real either. When his lips finally meet yours, it occurs to you just how many times you’ve imagined this. How many times you’ve looked at his lips and wondered if they were soft or what they would feel like against yours. How many times you’ve wondered about his hands running over your body.

His lips feel better than you expected, the perfect mix of soft and firm against your own. One of his large hands cups the side of your face, fingers curling around behind your ear. You’re not even sure which one of you deepens the kiss, you’re only aware that your tongues are moving together and that it’s making you feel a little light-headed. The angle is awkward but you’re not sure you really care. You’re kissing your best friend and it’s everything you’ve ever needed and nothing like you thought. 

He pulls away and you’re a little embarrassed by the way your lips chase after his, a little unused to being the one that pouts in this relationship. Yet that’s exactly what you do when you see him just looking at you.

“Is this actually happening?” he asks. You let out of huff of air.

“Well not now, since you stopped kissing me,” you say. You expect him to laugh or roll his eyes. Instead, he only looks fond. So incredibly fond. 

“Never would’ve pegged you as the pouty, whiny type,” Mingyu says. Now you’re the one that rolls your eyes.

“I’m leaving,” you announce and get up. 

You’re actually a little surprised when he lets you stand up and take a few steps toward the door. There’s a chance for your stomach to drop, just a little bit. And then he’s grabbing your arm to spin you around to him. 

Fuck, he’s tall. Which you’ve always known, but it’s different when he’s crowding your space and caging you between his arms. Your back is against the wall when you finally tilt your head up to look at him. Whatever playful glint that had been in his eyes earlier is gone. There’s no question that he wants you as much as you want him, maybe more. 

You pull his face down to yours to kiss him again, harder this time, let your hands tangle in his hair that he’s finally grown out after literal years of asking him. His hands grip your hips, just on the right side of too hard. 

And, okay, you don’t want to complain, but Mingyu genuinely is a giant and it’s kind of hard on your neck to crane it so you can continue kissing him. Just as you start to rise up on your tiptoes, Mingyu’s hands move from your hips down to the backs of your thighs. You gasp into his mouth when he picks you up, balancing you against the wall. It’s nothing but heat between the two of you when you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to help him keep you held up.

“Fuck this,” he says quietly as he pulls you away from the wall. 

You squeak at losing your backrest and wrap your arms around his neck tighter like you’re afraid to fall. He just chuckles.

“You know I’d never drop you,” he assures you, voice low. 

Even though he said it, you’re expecting him to deposit you on the bed. He doesn’t. He’s so gentle when he places you on the edge of his bed and you’re wondering where all the restraint is coming from. You sure as hell don’t have this kind of control.

Almost on their own, your hands reach for his shirt and he watches as you unbutton it carefully, sliding it down his arms. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen him shirtless (and you’ve seen him shirtless a lot), he’s still beautiful. So beautiful that you don’t realize he’s reaching for the hem of your dress, that’s already almost at your hips from him picking you up, removing it quickly before unclasping your bra just as quickly. It leaves you almost completely exposed, only your underwear left. The urge to be shy is brief when you see the way he’s looking at you. You spare a moment to consider if anyone’s ever looked at you like that (they haven’t, you’re sure). 

This time the kiss you get is actually quick before his mouth moves down over your body. He sucks one of your nipples between his teeth and your back arches in response. And there’s something a little weird about it all. There’s nobody in the world you know better than Mingyu, with his endless energy and restlessness. But you didn’t know this side of him. The side where he takes his time, slows down so every moment feels more important, focuses on you and you alone. 

You don’t stop him as he continues to move down your body and nips along the way. It doesn’t matter that he’s marking you up, doesn’t make you pause like it has before with anyone else. Not that anyone is going to be seeing these marks anyway, since he’s currently focusing on your inner thigh. And fuck, it feels good, but you’re also a little impatient, a little needy when your hand knots in his long hair again. Without even seeing his face, you know he’s smiling. Smirking, probably. He doesn’t have to tell you that he loves to see you whiny for him. 

(He does anyway, though, because he’s still a menace to society and to you specifically. He doesn’t have to tease you either, but he does that too, making you beg before he removes your underwear.)

“Mingyu please,” you beg, already reduced to this. 

His legs on yours from between your legs and you let out a heavy breath. His eyes are still on you when he asks, “what is it you’re asking for?”

“Something, anything,” you say because you’re no longer too proud to beg. You can yell at him for it later. Right now you just need. 

A second later, he gives you what you asked for. He runs his tongue up your folds lazily, too slow. It’s deliberate, you know. And you know that you should appreciate that he’s not in a rush. It’s just that you’re so on edge and this isn’t helping. Maybe he can tell by the way your hand tightens in his hair or the way you moan or even the way you squirm with his tongue inside you. Whatever it is, something makes him speed up and praises fall easily from your lips. The praises only seem to push him on, which isn’t surprising. Mingyu has always had a thing about praise. 

Mingyu slides a finger inside your cunt without much warning and it’s all too much. You never really paid that much attention to his hands (which was good for your sanity, probably). But his long finger moves quickly inside your cunt and you clench around him without meaning too. He hums against your clit, makes it feel like a praise. When he slides a second finger in, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll last. The rhythm of his fingers sliding inside you along with his mouth on your clit is driving you wild. 

He curls his fingers inside of you and thrusts faster, not teasing now, certainly not dragging it out. It’s silent permission for you to let go. The orgasm rips through you and you fall back onto the bed, dully aware of him guiding you through it. You’re breathing heavily when you feel his fingers slide out and prop yourself up in time to see him put his fingers in his own mouth. And fuck, okay that’s also really hot. 

You lean forward to undo his pants. Those fall to the floor with his boxer briefs and your eyes go a little wide. He’s bigger than you’re expecting, not that you’ve spent much time thinking about him. Now he’s the one that looks a little shy, even though it was you that was just coming on his tongue. 

He goes to grip his cock and you snap out of it, gently moving his hand away. Instead, you lean forward to spit on the tip, spreading it along his length, thinking you might tease him. Just a little bit. Your strokes are slow, at least at first, and he just watches, seems to be caught up in the moment. Until he gets impatient and jerks a little into your hand, even though you can tell he’s trying not to. 

You just look up at him, watch his eyes on you as you take his cock into your mouth. Mingyu gathers your hair in his hands, but lets you go at your own pace. Slowly, you find your rhythm, taking as much into your mouth as you can. Mingyu seems to like to give praise as much as he likes to receive it, though, because it falls out of his mouth between his groans.

“Baby, hang on,” Mingyu says and gently pulls himself back. Your eyes go wide for a second before registering that his look is just want. “Can I…I mean, I really want to fuck you. Fuck, I really want to feel you.”

That, almost more than anything else, goes straight to your core. You know you’re already getting wet again but why does he have to look like that when he says it? Why does he have to look like this is more than he’s ever experience? Why did him calling you baby make your brain short circuit? 

“God, yes Mingyu, yes, I want to feel you inside me,” you manage to say as you’re moving back into the center of the bed. 

Mingyu is reaching for his bedside table the next second and you watch him. There’s a part of you that knows it’s best to be safe, knows that you never know. But the other part, the much louder part, just wants to feel him. It’s the part that knows even though he could be a fuckboy, he’s not. Knows he doesn’t sleep around. So you tell him you’ve got an IUD, even though he already knows, and not to worry. He checks, because he cares about you more than he knows how to express, but there’s a part of him that’s excited too.

He’s hovering over you the next second, pressing kisses against every bit of your skin his lips come into contact with. He only stops for a second to line himself up at your entrance, slides the tip between your folds and comments on how wet you are again. As soon as he presses the tip into your cunt, his lips are on yours again, catching the moans. Or maybe distracting you from how big he is inside of you. 

You’re thankful for this side of him, the side that’s so careful with you, the side that’s much more in control of his body than you’ve seen anywhere else. Thankful because he’s moving slowly, letting you adjust. And because you know neither of you are going to last that long once he actually does start moving. 

“Please,” you nearly whisper, fingers digging into Mingyu’s arms. 

It’s all he needs, though. He starts moving, slowly snapping his hips as he thrusts into you. It’s all so much. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this much while fucking someone. You love to love and love feelings, but sex has always been somehow separate for you. Not that you don’t feel during sex. It’s just that you’ve always been able to separate the feelings. You can’t imagine doing that now and maybe that’s because none of them were Mingyu.

You know he wants to make it last, you do too, but it’s all just really overwhelming. So you focus on this moment, on how he speeds up, how his breath sounds so close to you, the way his muscles contract with each movement, on the way he stretches you. You dig your nails into his arms to keep yourself grounded and he groans. He picks up his pace a little more, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting all the way in, making you scream out. 

It feels like it all happens too fast. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm. And you know Mingyu is close too, can feel the way his thrusts falter. You clench around him, let him know you’re close, say whatever comes out. Most of it is probably incoherent, you think. But he understands anyway, is right there with you. Your second orgasm rips through you even harder than the first. Mingyu thrusts through it, releasing into you in the process. 

It’s a few minutes later, after you’ve both somewhat caught your breath and he’s pulled out of you, that you fully realize what’s happening. Mingyu has one hand behind his head and the other arm around you, eyes closed. You prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him, appreciate all his features up close for what feels like the first time in all your years of friendship. He opens his eyes and meets yours. It’s the best smile you can ever remember seeing. 

“So, I guess we’re doing this,” you say, watching his face closely.

“Yeah, we are,” he agrees, no room for argument. “I’m not letting go of you now.”

You lay back down and bury your face in his side. You’re not sure what else to say. “Hey, Mingyu?”

“Hmm?” he says. You feel it more than hear it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

this ended up being a little longer than i meant, but let me know your thoughts <3

[mimikyuno]

my yuriful summer 2024 watchlist 🏖️☀️

now that i checked out the first episode of all the yuriful shows i was keeping an eye on, here’s my first thoughts and impressions

Mayonaka Punch

tags: comedy, supernatural, vampire

thoughts on episode 1: LOVED IT SO SO MUCH!!! i love the mc already she’s such a mess and i already love the dynamic between her and the raging vampire lesbian. my favorite from the ones on this list tbh!! need more cancelled youtubers and horny for blood lesbian vampires. also i have a weak spot for anime with adult characters who can drink alcohol and get wasted lol. WILL be watching EAGERLY.

yuri thoughts 🌸: the yuri looks solid!! there was verbal mention of lesbian romantic feelings. and as in most vampire shows, blood drinking is metaphor for sex but it’s made quite explicit in this one which increases the yuri score. the protagonists have already a v interesting dynamic im invested.

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: i love this one more and more!!! still my fave out of these 5 for some reason? i just like masaki and live’s dynamic a lot, i hope they kiss

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: only one of these im still watching lmao ep 9 and 10 were really good! i hope masaki and live make out by the end. yuki best girl

Na Nare Hana Nare

tags: sports

thoughts on episode 1: LOVE the colors and art style in this one! love that there’s a girl in a wheelchair!! love the brazilian girl who keeps kissing everyone!! the parkour girl is turbo autistic fr… also a ninja lmao. im v interested in this tbh!! will be watching.

yuri thoughts 🌸: im v interested in the possible yuriful dynamics, especially between the girl in a wheelchair and mc, and between parkour ninja autistic and tall girl. i think the brazilian girl and girl who follows her around are also supposed to be shipped.

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: yeppp turbo autism ninja is a huge lesbian i love her sm 💌. very sweet show!

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: on hold. it got quite boring at the ep 5 mark and i cant will myself to continue. might drop

Senpai was Otokonoko

tags: crossdressing, love polygon, romance, school

thoughts on episode 1: this counts as yuriful and i Will fight u on this. bisexual girl x closeted trans girl x closeted gay childhood friend love triangle? discussions of gender identity? yes pls. will be continuing it!!

yuri thoughts 🌸: makoto and aoi are cute 🥹

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: idc about whatever happens later on, makoto is a trans girl, episode 2 and 3 are an insane confirmation. even if she never breaks through her eggshell throughout the whole series, she’s trans. no like fr. i love her so so much and i hope she’ll be able to transition (either at the end of the series or afterwards). egg of the season 🥚🏳️‍⚧️

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: meh. dropped lmao

Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan

tags: comedy, gag humor, school

thoughts on episode 1: “shiiiika 🦌!!!” okay y’all know i love me some gag humor anime but tbqh im feeling kinda lukewarm on this one. maybe it’s bc i had rly high expectations for this but idk most of the gags did not hit as nice as i hoped. tho some of them were brilliant (also looove the constant breaking of the fourth wall). not looking forward to the siscon character that’s gonna be introduced. will be continuing but might drop if i get bored. however i loved how they Did mention that only male deer have horns sooo… noko transbian 🦌🏳️‍⚧️?

yuri thoughts 🌸: the two protagonists have great yuri potential!! torako has already shown she’s a huge girl kisser and noko just keeps teasing her, which is a great dynamic imo. also torako’s va is hatsune miku’s voice provider, and we all know hatsune miku is transbian goddess so!

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: okay nvm i actually love this!!!!!! and the siscon character is such a caricature and parody of the siscon trope that i love her too (also she’s voiced by mafuyu project sekai uwu).

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: dropped lmao (gags got boring, i have seen too many similar shows)

VTuber Nandaga Haishin Kiri Wasuretara Densetsu ni Natteta

tags: comedy, otaku culture

thoughts on episode 1: once again maybe unpopular opinion but im not completely sold on this one. yes it’s fun, yes she’s unhinged, yes they’re all absolutely raging homosexuals BUT idk how to explain it but it feels very much male oriented. idk i think i feel this way bc it’s my personal pet peeve when otaku shows focus mostly on men as the intended audience (for example, when they showed her audience, all the viewers were men which like. they could have shown at least one woman who likes watching her videos yknow?). so anyway. at least it’s incredibly gay? and once again, love characters gettinf drunk lol. but idk i feel like this was made to ride the wave of hololive and get men on twitter to share funny clips idk. i like how they use actual vtuber avatars in certain scenes, and i get the vibe they’ll want to make these girls real vtubers, hence why we dont see what they actually look like but just their vtuber persona. will be checking out more ep but will drop if it gets too meh.

yuri thoughts 🌸: as mentioned, all the girls are RAGING homosexuals fr. asking about favorite lesbian porn scenarios to each other to possibly act them out. hello?!

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: again nvm, i like this one too now lmao tho i’d rank it last out of these 5 tbh. but it’s so unhinged and deranged that it’s a super fun watch

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: the wii fit -like episode was the last drop. burnt braincells i’ll never grow back. dropped byeee 0/10

[kiestrokes]

Day 17: Yuta Nakamoto | NSFW

▸ Idol: Yuta Nakamoto AND Huang Renjun of NCT ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: hard hours, smut, skater NCT AU. ▸ Vibe: just two Yuta imagines for you, both revolving around exhibitionism because he gives that vibe. ▸ Warnings: language, club scene, dancing.

Sexually Explicit Content: exhibitionism/voyeurism, public sex, kissing, clit stim, some nipple stim, Yuta seems like an ear guy (just go with it), sexual intercourse (penis in vagina), both positions are from behind, multiple orgasms (both), unprotected sex (no condom), alludes to future threesome.

🗝️ Note: Has not beta-ed by me or anyone else. I had two ideas, but decided to just give you both since I didn't get anyway up yesterday. Happy Wipmas 😉

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

IMAGINE 1: Yuta showing you how to dirty dance in the club. The strobing neon lights. The thrum of the speakers. His smile and laugh when you get into it, on beat with him. Until he turns your back against his front, nestling your ass against his gyrating pelvis. His hand slipping into the pocket of your romper to cup you intimately. Giving you a wicked grin at finding you without panties. Chiding you when you stutter off beat. Sucking on your earlobe. Kissing down your neck. Other hand briefly squeezing your breast before resting against your ribs. Rubbing into you from behind fluidly, as his fingers strum your clit through the pocket. Fabric damp. You bury your face in his neck, teething at his neck as you come. He groans and turns his face to kiss you. Tongue stroking into your mouth urgently to drink down your cries, holding you to him as you come apart. Lapping gently as you shake, his fingers slowly stroking you through the aftershocks. Your eyes find his, bright in the ever changing club lights. He takes your hand, dragging you off to a fire escape. Where he strips you nude. You present your ass to him, and Yuta wastes no time as he thrusts into you from behind. You cry out in pleasure. He ruts you into the railing. Hip bones biting into the cold metal. Yuta sets a brutal pace. Loud slaps as people hoot and holler from below. Yuta yells back at them as you moan. His fingers reach around to stroke you off again. Groaning as you clench his leaking cock. Fucking you harder. His breathing growing labored as you start to actually scream. Yuta's wraps his fingers around your throat. Slowing his thrusts to rub against the sensitve ridges that have you convulsing. Then he’s pinning you to the rail again, spreading the cheeks of your ass and groaning about how he wants to split you open. You’re chanting his name. You feel his movements tighten and his thighs stiffen against the back of yours as he strokes relentlessly in and out of your cunt. You beg with his name as you feel yourself leaking arousal down your thighs. Lewd sounds coming from behind. He teases you, stuttering himself as he fights his release. Until Yuta is folded over your body, abs slick in both of your sweats, he bites your shoulder as he releases into your seizing insides.

IMAGINE 2: A friend movie night with the other skaters from the park. Yuta and you had been sexting for months, but never able to do more. So you’re both restless. So much so that you choose to sit on the other side of Renjun, away from Yuta, avoiding temptation. That gets thwarted when Renjun gets in the floor between Mark and Jeno, five minutes into the movie. Yuta tugs you between his legs with the guise of using your blanket. Halfway into the Ghibli movie soft snores fill the room. The majority of your friends asleep after a long day of adult jobs and an afternoon skate session. Yuta's wandering hands finally touch skin after teasing you over your clothes all night. His hand covering your gasp as his teeth capture your earlobe. You rub your ass back into his hips, done with the edging. Yuta laughs softly taking the hint, he helps you pull your cargos down to your knees moving to his pants next. Until you feel the hot flesh of his thighs on the backs of yours. His erection sliding against the cleft of your ass. "You have to be quiet, can you do that?" Yuta's breath fans across your cheek and you turn to meet his gaze with an eager nod. Yuta lifts your thigh to rest back on top of his, collecting your arousal with a perfectly timed groan in the movie and smearing it over the head of his dick. Before thrusting into you with some readjusting until he's halfway in, you lower your leg and he grips your hips to sheath himself with his hiss through clenched teeth. You squirm, nerve endings on edge as you adjust to his size. "Shhh." Yuta warns, a low whine escaping you as he pulls away before snapping back in. His hand moves between your legs, "want to feel you come around me." Yuta strums ruthlessly at your clit as you bounce quietly on his cock. Muted whimpers escaping you, drowned out by the suround sound of the movie. "Fuck, you're so wet," Yuta hisses into your ear as your legs straighten against his, holding off your orgasm. "Yuta," you clutch at his arm thats between your legs as your body starts to shake. Yuta starts to push into you from behind, "cross your ankles." You obey, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you feel the ceiling of your orgasm barreling toward you. Yuta moans as you tighten around him, his fingers almost bruising your clit as you shake uncontrollably against him. Yuta's other hand is covering your mouth again, as he bites down on your shoulder from behind as you reach your ends together. Yuta doesn't stop stroking, his tongue lapping at the indents his teeth left in your flesh as he steadily shoots into your insides. You groan, in a way that can easily be taken as human exhaustion as he ruts to a stop, pelvis flush against your ass. Renjun sleepily lifts his head. “Junie,” you startle, trying to control your rapid breathing. “Give her a kiss.” Yuta rumbles a whisper, subtly pressing you forward from behind. You and Renjun come together softly, nuzzling each other’s cheeks, the kiss is slow and you clench around Yuta who groans. “Hyung stop moaning," Mark waves a tired hand in the air. Haechan obliviously lifts his head from the other futon where he's holding a dozing Jaemin and Jungwoo to throw a pillow at Mark, “you’re one to talk hyung.” You and Yuta make room for Renjun on the futon, tucking him under the blankets with you. “Did you leave me on purpose?” Renjun smiles, “I saw the photos you sent Hyung on accident.” You groan, rubbing your nose to his. “What do you say, another round?” Yuta's tongue strokes into your ear, you moan. “Renjun is ready to go, and you’re nice and wet from me.” Yuta palms his way from your hip, up the softness of your stomach, to stroke your nipple. “Junie?” You gasp as Yuta presses your palm into the bulge on his thigh. “Yes,” he chokes, hiding his face in your neck as you and Yuta squeeze him over his clothes. “Hyung, I wanna go to the bedroom.” Yuta nods, his hair tickling the back of your neck, quickly removing his hands. Tugging your pants up to catch anything that threatens to spill as he pulls out. And carefully the three of you sneak away for round two.

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes  All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[allastoredeer]

I feel like there are too many minors trying to insert themselves in the adult Hazbin fandom cause I just encountered a public radiostatic community that's being hosted by a 12 year old, I don't know what these kids parents are doing but it's not good

I'd be lying if I said I didn't get into things I probably shouldn't have when I was younger (then again I was a wee little religious teen who didn't have the nerve to go into, much less interact, in mature/explicit groups), but I wish they'd at least mark these spaces as ones for minors, especially when it comes to shows like Hazbin Hotel.

I don't think minors and adults should be completely cut off from each other in fandom, but when it comes to adults shows and adults fans making explicit content, minors shouldn't be inserting themselves into these spaces. I think its good and healthy for them to explore themselves through fics and art, whether that's creating it themselves or viewing it--it certainly helped me broaden my worldview and discover things about myself (no joke, Spideypool is what led to me getting out of my toxic, religious lifestyle).

But they need to understand that adults have boundaries too. That adults get uncomfortable, and most of us don't want them interacting with our 18+ material (or, at the very least, discussing it with us). Just the exchange of explicit content (especially sexual content) between minors and adults is illegal, and could really get us in trouble.

And, you know, it's just weird and uncomfortable.

I like creating and consuming dark content, and it's not something I'd ever want to discuss with someone in their teens. It makes me feel gross. I've actually had an experience with a minor passing themselves off as an adult and talking with me in an 18+ channel on discord. They felt guilty afterward and admitted they were a minor, and when I tell you how gross I felt as the adult in that situation. How disgusting I felt.

It was a horrible experience that I never want to repeat.

If any minors are reading this, you need to understand that engaging in these topics with adults does have consequences, and you need to respect our boundaries on the matter. If us getting in trouble with the law isn't enough for you to do that, then consider that we're human beings and these things have an emotion and mental impact on us too.

[spookwyrdie]

I love love love the subby Seungmin fic🤤, like you're literally too good at making your writing so compelling?🥰 Like idk the correct for for it but it's like crack to me😖🥴 Can i please bring to your attention Minnie's pouty lips? Like literally every time he speaks his lips just pucker up in the cutest way and I lowkey am curious to see how mean Dom reader would tease him about how slutty he's being, acting as if he wants everyone to kiss his pretty pretty lips and just kissing and biting them until they are red and swollen and marked as readers'. And Seungmin loving the feeling of being owned and just melting at the degradation repeating drunkenly over and over about how he doesn't want anyone to kiss him but you cuz he's your little slut. And later reader reassuring him that they didn't mean it and that they love Minnie's lips and cute mannerisms just as it is. 🥰

Hey Anonnie🥰 I love the sub Seungmin requests, they're always so fun to write.

Because You're My...?

genre: smut, fluff if you squint // word count: 1.1k // warnings: adult dialogue, sexual themes, noona kink, subby idol!seungmin, biting, degradation, a dash of puppy play //a/n: This isn't explicit in the sense that they're just kissing, but there's Stuff. Things. Enjoy!

Seungmin is really hamming it up on this variety show. When he talks, his lips pucker up naturally, the tint of his lips pink and shiny. When he smiles, his whole face lights up, his teeth straight and white, even when he tends to cover it. When he speaks though, even when he tries to keep his face neutral, he’s pushing his lips out.

Sometimes when he’s annoyed, he even runs his tongue over his bottom lip, just showing off how wet and plump it is. Is he really simpering for the audience right now, playing innocent? Standing off stage, watching behind the camera with the rest of the team, you feel your blood boil. Who’s he showing off for? Those lips are for you and you alone.

Once they call for a break, he jogs over to the team, making a beeline to you with a big grin on his face. He cocks his head to the side, giving you confused puppy eyes when he notices your irritated expression. You grab onto his wrist and drag him behind you, making excuses about fixing something on his jacket.  Instead, you find an empty green room. Pushing him inside, closing the door with your foot. 

“Y/n, wh-”

“Shh, I don’t want to hear any excuses,” you snap, squeezing his cheeks with your hand so his lips purse.

“Excutheth for wha-” he tries to say with his face in your hand.

“Excuses for being such a pouty little whore on camera.”

He wiggles out of your grasp, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t pouting on camera.”

“Yes, you were,” you poke him in the chest, walking him backwards until his back finds the wall. “Who are you trying to get to kiss you?”

“No one!” he starts to blush as you press your body up against his. 

“That’s not what it looked like,” you sneer. “You’re just acting like a slut.”

“I’m not a sl-” he starts to whine, but you clap a hand over his mouth. 

“Shh! You have to keep your voice down,” you whisper. “The door is unlocked, do you want someone to find us?”

He shakes his head and you release him, trailing your fingers down his cheek. He’s already panting when he whispers, “Noona, I only want you to kiss me.”

You lean in, “The way you were licking your lips, puckering up while you were talking? I think you want anyone to use this pretty little mouth.” 

“I don’t do it on purpose! I used to have braces, it’s just -”

“Excuses are slut behavior. You’ll let anyone have a little taste?”

“N-no,” he whimpers. “Only you.”

With your thumb, you smear the lip tint he has on. “Only me?”

“Yes, Noona, only you.”

You surge into him, your mouth finding his as he groans into your sudden, harsh kiss. His mouth opens to whine, giving you the opportunity and permission to deepen the kiss, lashing your tongue against his. He melts into your touch, his hands grasping at your back, fingers digging into your skin. He scratches his short nails into you as he moans, losing his mind as he presses further into you. You slip your hand into his hair and pull, tilting his head back suddenly.

His mouth disconnects from yours briefly, trying to catch his breath. But that’s not what you have in mind for him, pulling him back down to meet your lips again, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and nipping hard. He squeaks at the sudden deluge of pain and pleasure as you soothe the sharp pain with your tongue. You capture his lip again between your teeth lightly as you pull back, his eyes fluttering as you tug his lip towards you. 

“I don’t know,” you say as you release his lip. Seungmin has a hazed out look in his eyes as he follows trails after you, chasing your lips. “I think only little sluts kiss like that.”

“No!” he cries, wild emotions erupting in his chest. Calling him names like this makes him feel bad…but also good? You’re giving him so much attention, lavishing him with contact, controlling him. He feels his knees weaken when you call him a whore. He starts to grow hard in his jeans, a fizzing sensation pulsing through him as you lay your claim to his mouth. He wants to be so good for you, but he can’t deny the adrenaline rushing through his body at your insults.

“Who do these lips belong to?” you whisper, pressing feather light kisses along his jaw. 

“YOU!” he cries, rutting his hips into you. The way you control his every move, teasing him with your mouth alone, drives him mad. “Please!”

“Please what, puppy?” you say as you pull back to look at him. His eyes widen at the use of the pet name, unlocking a new kind of desire. He’s your puppy, he wants you to own him. 

“Please…” he starts, nervous about what he’s about to say. “Let me be yours.”

The feeling in your chest is overwhelming, like your heart could burst. A smile blooms on your face, a faint flush darkens your cheeks. 

“You want to be mine?” you say, tracing the shape of his top lip with your finger, mesmerized by how red and swollen they look. 

Seungmin nods, eyes not leaving your face. You snake your hand down to his jaw, holding it in place, adoration on your face. His whole mouth is covered in the lip tint he had on for the cameras. It’ll look terrible when he returns, but you want the world to know that you own this mouth. 

“And you’re not going to be a dumb little whore anymore in front of other people?”

“No, never. Only for you, Noona,” he pants, leaning into your touch.

“Because…?”

He looks at you, confusion in his eyes as he tries to break through some of the arousal pumping through his veins to understand your question.

“Because?” he repeats.

“Is my dumb little slut already gone, just from a few kisses?” you chuckle at him. “Because you’re my…”

“Because I’m… your… puppy?”

You grin as you lean down to kiss him, capturing his lips gently this time. He hisses at the soreness of his lip, but it turns to a moan as you use your tongue to dull the pain. The languid pace has him melting in your grasp for other reasons, his heart beating erratically in his chest.

“Then you better learn how to stop pouting when you talk,” you murmur against his lips. “These lips are for me.”

~

[mostlyihyperfixate]

WrightWorth Fic Recs

Okay, so @moongasux told me to give some fic recommendations on last night's post, and I thought it would be easier for me to put together a list in a separate post. And then I can update as I go along.

Please note that these aren't all the fics I've read or even the only good ones, just my favorites so far--the ones I've gone back and reread multiple times since discovering them. I've got several explicit ones to recommed but I literally just started reading smut so I can't actually comment on how good the sex scenes are.

A Long Way to Fall by prospectkiss

Rating: Explicit; Content Warning for stalking and torture; set pre-AA4; finished

Words cannot express how much I love this fic. It was the second one I ever read, and it's still my all-time favorite. It sounds really dark, but the subject matter is treated with the reality and seriousness it deserves. The author also simultaneously knows where and when to stop with the angst so it never gets overbearing. I especially love that both Miles and Phoenix seem like 100% equal partners and adults. The character voices are *chef's kiss*. This is, hands down, the best Franziska I have come across. Be warned that there are explicit sex scenes!

A Night You'll Never Regret by MaudMoon

Rating: Explicit; Content Warning for drinking in excess; set post-AA6; finished

This is another excellent fic, a sort of pure-fluff alternative to A Long Way to Fall. It's just good times from start to finish. The character work here is also very good. The author deals with a pretty large cast masterfully. Larry is amazing in this. This is the story that introduced me to my NOTP, but I'm coming to realize that it's a fairly common ship in this fandom, and who am I to rain on a collective parade? This story is too good to ignore just because of that. Again, there are explicit sex scenes.

Turnabout: Bloodline by LeFlayART

Rating: Explicit; Canon Divergence post-AA6; Spirit Medium!Miles AU; finished (the first two of the three stories, anyway)

You have got to read this. I started reading the first story in this series yesterday, and I've hardly been able to put it down. I am crushed to see that the final story never got finished--but a look at the number of comments on the second part shows that the number of comments this received at the time was a travesty. This is a masterpiece. They say the mark of a good story is that you keep saying to yourself, "Just one more chapter. Just one more chapter," and I have been saying that since, like, 9:00 in the morning yesterday. There is explicit sex. There is a lot of explicit sex. Please go shower this fic with the praise it deserves.

pressed beneath the burden of proof by harmony

Rating: Mature; Content Warning for amnesia fic; one shot

I effing love an amnesia fic, okay? I know it's not for everyone, but it's one of my favorite fic tropes. (Seriously, if you know of any other Wrightworth or Klapollo amnesia fics please send them my way). This is a nice lengthy one that doesn't overstay its welcome by making you wonder where the heck the plot got to. There's no big, overarching legal mystery to solve, but watching Miles put things together is plot enough. The interactions between Miles and Phoenix are wonderful.

res ipsa loquitur (the thing itself speaks) by griffonage

Rating: Teen and Up; finished

This is a fun miscommunication fic that isn't going to leave you wanting to rage at the couple for not just communicating. It's fun miscommunication. Another great "It's about the pining" fic, but without all the angst that usually comes with all that pining--and it's only five chapters, so you can read it in a snap! The author wrote another similar story from Phoenix's point of view later, but of the two, this is my preferred one.

Guilty as Charged by JustNerdyThings

Rating: General Audiences; finished

Do you like seeing Apollo tortured in the fun sense? Then this is the fic for you! It's got some additional Klapollo which finally made me go, "Oh, yeah, this ship is cute," and while shipping (and fumbled matchmaking) is the plot of the story, the place it really shines is just watching Apollo deal with the rest of the cast as the only sane man. It's all cute enough to give you cavities.

Epoch by citsiurtlanu

Rating: Teen and Up; Content Warning for Soulmate AU; set through the series; in the process of being posted

I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest when I open this up and read it--every single damn time. It hurts. I mean that in a good way. I don't typically read soulmate AUs because I always have more questions than what is addressed, but this one's sort of (at least thus far) a deconstruction of the concept. I am genuinely upset that I have to wait for weekly updates on this when I just want to unhinge my jaw and swallow it whole. Every week's update leaves me wanting more. Also, the author is terribly nice.

[marthawrites]

The Gift That Keeps Giving

Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.8k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part 2 to A Gift for the Queen (pls be kind it was the second thing I wrote ♥)

About: You've happily stayed with Daemon and Rhaenyra since her birthday. They have a little game up their sleeve to play with you.

Includes: Explicit sexual content!! *takes a really deep breath* involving typical canon incest, M/F/F content, p in v, female masturbation, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), forced orgasm, orgasm denial, overstimulation, some degradation, manhandling, crying, adult language, and aftercare. With a sweet ending. WHEW. That's a mouthful. Idk friends there's a lot going on here and if I missed anything I apologize!

Note: Hello lovely reader! I'm not in charge of your imagination, but I write with the implications that Westerosi men go in raw and are uncut. Do with that info however you like. As always, reader is nondescript! Huge shout out to my girl Eliza who is just fucking awesome and I love her. This has been stewing in my brain forever and I finally was able to get it out. It's filthy. Please, enjoy! ♥

-

While it wasn't home, Dragonstone remained lovely. What made it even more lovely was the attention Rhaenyra bestowed upon you during the early mornings and late into the evenings. The Black Queen, despite (or perhaps in spite of) the neverending amount of responsibilities she had, had an insatiable taste for pleasure.

Her body showed all the signs of motherhood: faded stretch marks, widened hips, heavy breasts, and a soft cushion of fat around her middle. If she was beautiful before, deemed "The Realm's Delight" by her uncle-husband, then she was even more so now. Motherhood fit Rhaenyra. And in turn she was a good mom, too. 

You couldn't imagine how she balanced everything on her plate. Being a caring mother, a Queen against an upsurer king, a wife… How?

Daemon and Rhaenyra, like many in their ancestry, could only be sated by the fire of a fellow Targaryen. Twin flames from somewhere deep and ancient in the earth. Together they burned. You were certain it was the passion they shared in their intimate moments that kept them in check; a contained bonfire instead of rampant wildfire.

The Rogue Prince, still standing by what he said the first night you shared with them, had yet to let you have his cock. "Whores aren't deserving of my seed." As much as you savored every second of pleasure with Rhaenyra, you ached for him.

Doing as you were told, you sat in one of their chairs and were allowed to merely watch as Rhaenyra rode her husband until sweat sheened on her skin and her legs shook from exertion. It was torture. Daemon had a beautiful cock. Thick, solid, and forever eager to be wrapped around his wife's needy cunt; seemingly as many times as she'd like. And there you were. Both of your legs draped over the arms of the chair to expose yourself wide open, fingers fucking into yourself at the show, unable to reach the kind of climaxes Rhaenyra experienced. Your fingers were half useless despite their best efforts.

"You're being awfully quiet over here," Daemon crooned, walking over to you once he and his wife were finished. Sweat sheened on him too. "Is your Queen fucking her prince so boring?"

You'd been far from quiet. A blush had taken home in your cheeks and your folds glistened with evidence of orgasm. "Never boring," you breathed in reply, looking up at Daemon from beneath your lashes.

He tutted and swatted your hand away from your center. "You are. Perhaps you need to be reminded just how loud you can get." Bringing two fingers up to your mouth he pushed past your lips until his Targaryen signet squished against the corner of your mouth. He smirked at your eager acceptance. He planted his other hand upon the back of your chair, eyes keen on you.

Were your gag reflex any weaker it would have stuttered around his abrupt intrusion. The shadow of his bulk looming over you caused a whine of anticipation to escape your throat, vibrating around his fingers.

He pulled them out and a lewd little line of spittle broke between your lip and the tip of his finger. 

"My prince…," you purred, heart thumping wildly beneath your flushed chest. "I do think I need to be reminded. I haven't had a cock in sooo long… my fingers can only go so far. They are much smaller than you." Unintentionally – or perhaps wholly intentionally – your hips squirmed in a silent beg for any sort of attention he might give you.

Dark amusement swelled his pupils. "Small and pathetic," he said sardonically. "Can you even reach where you're begging to be touched?" With his question he delivered a quick smack to the fullness of your spread cunt. 

You yelped, surprised, eyes popping open as a second slap followed. "A-ah!" Your legs closed in an attempt to shield yourself from his touch.

"Play nice with our sweet girl," Rhaenyra chimed from the bed. Amusement laced her words too. "We want her to be eager to play later. Isn't that right, husband?"

Flicking your attention to the marital bed you saw that Rhaenyra didn't look up or anything else – content to lay and relax in bliss for a few moments longer before getting ready for the day.

Daemon sniggered, one big hand easily parting your legs open. You weren't squeezing too hard, merely had your thighs pressed together to keep yourself protected from further taunts. "That's right," he replied to his wife over his shoulder before turning his gaze back to you. “Our favorite, and prettiest, whore.”

The weight of his gaze sent your own pupils swelling. You smiled at his praise. “Always happy to be in service of my Queen. And King.” The Prince Consort liked it when you called him that. He liked it even more when it spilled from your pretty lips in a beg for him to fuck you – a gift he still hadn’t given you. Most, though, he liked it when you and Rhaenyra half whispered it on your knees between sharing his cock.

A third slap was delivered to your cunt and you barely managed to muffle a startled whimper behind a bitten lip. “How quickly do you think you could come on my fingers?” He tilted his head in question, eyes still sharp on yours. In the same motion he squeezed the back of your chair for extra support while pushing two calloused digits into your yearning center. He knew right where to find that delightfully sensitive spot along your walls. He sought it and abused it. And, to make matters all the more lascivious, his thumb worked your clit in tandem. “You won’t get a second chance, girl. If you wish to come, then come. Now.” His pace was brutal. And wonderful. He had no shame when it came to pleasure; the obscenity of the wet slaps from his finger fucking sent you over the edge quickly.

The coil of pleasure in your belly snapped with all the force it had been wired with; a straining haste that left you gasping as if Daemon’s hand were wrapped around your throat. A moment ago you were merely under his gaze. Now, your thighs squeezed his forearm as bliss washed over you in hot waves of desperation. You whined a string of moans so sweet it sent the towering prince to near purrs.

“Say thank you,” he said, pulling his fingers from your clenching depths.

“Thank you, my prince.” 

That is how Daemon and Rhaenyra left you for the day. Alone to do as you please; eager for their return. Duty called and kept them away until after sundown.

-

“Will Daemon not want to be present for this, your Grace?” You were barely able to whisper between heated pants. 

Rhaenyra had propped pillows beneath your backside to give herself a better angle to your soaked core. Her arms were looped around your thighs so she could support herself upon her elbows. She was happily face down into you with her ass up and pointed to the door. Slowly, she lapped, and slowly, she sucked, seeming to be more than content to have you as many times as she pleased. Your fingers curled in her soft hair. It was in a single haphazard braid and you didn’t feel guilty for messing it up anymore than it already was. 

A playful hum vibrated against your folds. “Even in this room I am still the Queen. If my lord husband isn’t happy with what he sees upon arrival, then, well…,” she paused, thinking. “I suppose he won’t get to play.” She returned her attention to you and your eyes rolled closed at the skill of her mouth. 

Just on the edge of your pleasure, right before you were flung into the crest, the door opened and Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder to see who would come in so rudely. The peak she’d been working you towards was gone in an instant. If you were lucky, it wouldn’t take long to reach again.

“Sȳz bantis, ābrazȳrys,” good evening wife, Daemon said softly in High Valyrian – their ancestral language a thing you still couldn’t understand. “Emare kirimves?” having fun He asked with a quirk of brow.

“Kessa,” yes she replied, grinning.

By now the door was latched and locked behind him. “Ȳdra daor ivestragī nyke keligon ao,” don’t let me stop you he said and he stepped further into the room and began to disarm and undress.

Were these two ever not horny? You thought privately to yourself. Almost daily, and sometimes multiple times a day, they coupled. You’d witnessed firsthand their sex life was far from boring – and that’s only what you’ve seen! Surely you hadn’t witnessed all that their passion could bring. 

“Ziry's mazilībagon, valzȳrys,” she’s set, husband Rhaenyra said with a glimmer you hadn’t seen in her eyes before. Her attention turned fully to you, then, a smolder behind her vibrancy. “Tonight it’s my turn to watch,” she cooed, delicately kissing your sensitive bud in departure.

A shudder ran through you at the combination of her words and lips. Could she really mean…? Was tonight the night you’d been waiting for since arriving at Dragonstone with the Rogue Prince? Excitement shot through you as Rhaenyra moved from the bed to the chair you normally sat in. Even fully nude she looked like a queen should. Poised. Regal: a glimmer of something mischievous or unhinged – perhaps both – right there behind her eyes.

Daemon, now nude, wordlessly beckoned you over. He stood at the edge of the bed: every burn and scar of his seasoned warriors' body on display in the low light of their room. You obeyed with barely any other thought in your head. The same glint as his wife's shown in his face. You were nothing but a play thing for them. A pretty little bird for them to clip and make sing. If Dragonstone – their room – were your cage, you cared little. Who would ever complain about being in service to the Black Queen and her Prince Consort?

"Kiss it," he said evenly, a bite of sternness behind his tone.

He wasn't yet hard. Even his flaccid manhood made your thighs clench. It was as handsome as the rest of him and you wasted no time in trailing warm kisses along his cock, reveling in the sensation of him growing harder beneath your attention. "Gonna let me have it all for myself tonight?" You asked, pumping along his length with a spit-slick hand. Your kisses were open mouthed and wet, tongue accompanying here and there.

"Be a good little whore and quit teasing. If you want it hard then make it hard. Stop this playing," Daemon sneered down at you, pinching your chin between thumb and forefinger to turn your eyes up to him. "Have you had a good day lazing about like a spoiled cat?" Head tilted with his question, traditional silver tresses catching moonlight. "No thoughts in your pretty head… daydreaming about being bent over and fucked. How does it feel to haven't anything to fret over?" A mock laced his tone – bitterness and amusement alike.

You merely smiled up at him. Taunting. "Boring…," you replied before taking his tip between your lips. He tasted warm and salty. Your head bobbed forward and backward as you worked him up the way you knew he liked it. Musk filled your nose and your core instantly clenched. You wanted nothing more than to have him thrusting in and out of you: claiming you, taking you, using you for his pleasure. And if you were lucky, Rhaenyra would join too.

He laughed dryly. "A spoiled little bitch." He twitched in your mouth. By now his cock was fully hardened and slobbery; your eyes glassy from need and strain. Whether prompted by your words or a wave of lust, he grabbed the sides of your arms, squeezing harshly, and maneuvered you around to his liking.

Before you could put it all together, you were on your hands and knees atop the bed with Daemon looming behind you. His cock seared your skin. You gasped wholly surprised and wanton as you looked up to where Rhaenyra still sat and watched; purple eyes alight with wickedness. "Your Grace…?" You asked, spine bending down tantalizingly to prop your ass firmer against the Rogue Prince. Lust consumed your blood and you gripped the plush bedclothes, cunt throbbing with anticipation.

"It's time for you to have your fun. And for me to have mine," she replied, lips pouting in a smile before flashing her teeth in a delighted expression. In her hand she held a phallic shaped object and you knew exactly what it was. The base portion that was meant to be held sparkled with an array of dazzling cut gemstones. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds. The toy the Black Queen meant to fuck herself with gleamed with enough wealth to buy youself a comfortable new life – and yet for her it was merely another thing. An object to use for pleasure as her husband fucked her sweet little pet. She looked at Daemon with a tilt of her head, her body lax and open for the voyeuristic experience. Whatever was shared between them was private, meant for only husband and wife, and Rhaenyra bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

Daemon’s hands gripped your hips and your heart thumped to a new high. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered how many other women – or men, if the rumors you'd heard of the dragon prince were true – were in this position before. Words couldn't even form on your tongue. All you could manage was a sultry connection with Rhaenyra as your eyes stayed on her. Eager. Excited. Fucking elated. 

She began circling her clit right as Daemon lined himself up with you. His tip was swollen with as much need as coursed through you, and he pushed himself into your saturated core. 

Immediately your jaw slackened with a lusty gasp. He was so big, and so thick, and so hot, that the air was forced from your lungs. He pushed deeper and your eyelids fluttered, fingers gripping into the smooth quilts. With a final flex of his hips and thighs, he was fully hilted into you. 

The weight of his torso fell over your back. "If I were any smaller you'd be loose around me, whore," he hissed by your ear, one big calloused hand palming up the length of your spine until it reached the back of your neck. He held you there, mindful of his finger placement, before dragging his hips backwards. 

You barely had time to miss the delirious stretch of him, because when he snapped forward into you, an unrestrained moan shuddered through your form. "O-oh! Yes, Daemon, please…!"

He grunted as his grip tightened around your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh that padded there. "Was it your Queen who got this cunt so wet? Or was it me?" He asked, the slaps of his pelvis against your asscheeks quickly filling the bedchamber. The natural clench of your body had his already hot blood boiling. The desire to relentlessly pound into you for his own high and pleasure clouded his mind. As much as he'd love to give into that primal part of himself, he wouldn't. There wasn't any fun in that. At least the kind of fun he and Rhaenyra were after.

"Both," you barely managed to say. He'd hardly been fucking you for longer than a few moments and already he had you cockdrunk and ready to drool into their expensive bedding. His pace and pressure hit you at all the right angles. You’d been with Rhaenyra and Daemon exclusively for a couple moons now, and you hadn’t the satisfaction of a cock in that time. The backs of your legs tightened. Your toes curled.

A dark laugh vibrated out from Daemon. "Look at you... already dazed out on my cock. Little slut. You don't get to finish yet," he said with a firm slap to your backside, pulling out and leaving you empty right before climax could wash over you. "Watch your Queen's perfect cunny take her toy." Pulling you by the hair at the back of your head, he turned your attention forward as he slid into you once again. His pace, while still as powerful, was slower this time. His balls slapped against your clit to add another level of obscenity to the lewdness of the night’s event.

The denial of your orgasm seemed to spur Rhaenyra on even more than she already was. The smooth leather wrap of the dildo shone with her slick. Her hips rolled in tandem with her wrist, and both were accented by her pants and whimpers of solo bliss. Pleasure relaxed her face. She grinned at both of you.

Wonderful tension coiled in the pit of your belly. Warm, and tight, and tingling, echoes of it reverberated throughout your entire body and your eyes closed with the sensations. Daemon’s grip hardly laxed, yet you still found the strength to push back against him to meet his thrusts. It was maddening. Beautifully maddening. Something – perhaps nothing – changed in his pace and the embers he’d been stoking threatened to combust. “I’m gon–... fuck, please, my prince… Don’t stop!”

Instantly, he pulled out of you and stopped. The entirety of his length was shiny with your arousal; even the hair of his groin was damp with you. He laughed when you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him with wetted eyelashes. “You should see yourself right now. Pathetic.”

Rhaenyra’s ministrations grew hotter and sloppier, climax seeming to threaten her as well. Unlike you, she didn’t have anyone controlling the reins. The Black Queen gave into her pleasure and allowed orgasm to take her. Panting, shuddering, and glowing, she was lovely in the throes of her peak.

The squelching of her bejeweled toy sent Daemon half-feral. He flipped you over on your back, leering down at you as he squished your thighs flat against your breasts. You were bent in half and each thrust led him to the deepest parts of your cunt. You half screamed behind your hand, jolts of white hot ecstasy webbing throughout your senses as he fucked you. “Cover your mouth again and I’ll fucking smack you,” he huffed between throaty growls, relishing the sight of you and his wife alike. She was fucking herself again, greedy for more.

This had to be part of the game they were playing. The build up of your peak only to be denied at the last second… what a cruel thing to do. Emotion swam in your eyes until they were glassy from unshed tears. “Please let me come!”

Again, he pulled out from you. Again, you glared with a half sob. The muscles of your legs shook and your scalp felt fuzzy. He wasn’t going easy on you and you wondered how long he could do this before he drowned beneath a crest too. Tears pricked from the outsides of your eyes to roll behind your ears. He almost lost it right then and there. “No,” he smirked coldly. Muscles flexed and tightened as he positioned you up on your knees: his front to your back, you facing Rhaenyra, one arm holding you flush to him as the other gripped your hip. “She likes it when you cry. Let’s show her more of those pretty tears, hm?” He rasped by the shell of your ear, pushing into your overly sensitive center.

A sheen of sweat covered Rhaenyra. The fingers of her free hand played with her clit now, too, edging her bliss as long as she could.

Daemon palmed your breasts and squeezed your nipples. His pace was near brutal now; sweat slicked between your bodies through the control and exertion. “Gods… it’s too much! Please, your Grace, my prince…!” You begged through broken moans. Just as your body began shuddering against Daemon’s, he stopped all he was doing and let his cock slip out of your bullied walls. You sobbed fully this time. Tears fell down your face. Desperation washed over you. They were cruel – both of them – never had they strung you along like this.

“Poor sweet little whore. Begging and crying. It should be your Queen you’re begging to. Let’s give her one more orgasm, yeah? Then maybe she’ll let you finish on your prince’s cock.” 

As if together, Rhaenyra’s self-driven thrusts matched Daemon’s as he began taking you yet again. You couldn’t think straight. Could hardly keep your blurry eyes open. You cried out whimpered moans of their names and begged through broken syllables. It was too much. All of it was too much. Daemon’s cock felt so fucking good it took everything you could muster to not give in to your body’s primal desires.

Fresh tears clumped your eyelashes. Rhaenyra found her second climax at the sight of them. Her chest heaved with the force of it; soft abdomen rolled with the release. Creamy slick coated her dildo and her actions finally slowed before stopping; core too sensitive to take anymore.

“Come now, girl,” Daemon cooed, fingertips swiping and circling over your clit. You didn’t need to be told twice. Once your orgasm took hold of you, you nearly blacked out with its intensity. Never in your life had you experienced something like this, and if you weren't already teary you would have cried real tears with the release of such a high build up. 

Your gripping and convulsing walls were too much for the Rogue Prince, too, and he barely pulled free from your depths to release his seed into the air. Ropes of it landed atop the bedding – white against the dark material – and he groaned like a beast at your back. 

You slumped forward, wholly spent, and Daemon carefully moved from behind you. Laying on your belly you looked between Daemon and Rhaenyra, laughing. "Seven Hells… maybe next time there could be a little warning?"

Sweat and sex hung in the air and it took all of you a few moments to gather yourselves from the fervor of shared passion.

"That takes some of the fun out of it though," Rhaenyra answered after a few moments as she walked to you with a clean washcloth. She had a silk robe wrapped loosely around her. She bent to kiss your forehead. "You did very well for us tonight, little dove. If you truly wanted it to stop, you know all you needed was to say something."

"I know," you replied, cleaning yourself up. "Thank you."

"My lord husband wasn't too rough with you, was he?" She asked sincerely.

You laughed again and shook your head. "No, your Grace."

He smirked at your answer, as did Rhaenyra. "Good," she said. "We can all remember that for next time."

The three of you finished cleaning up with light-hearted chatter and soft touches. Afterwards, wine and a late night snack were shared. When sleep finally overcame you, all of you were a tangle of limbs and silk in the big bed.

-

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider a follow and reblog as I have plans to create and share more writings ♥

masterlist

taglist: to be added or removed please let me know! ♥

@melsunshine  @iiamthehybrid  @arcielee  @nina2697  @sahvlren @targaryenbrainrott @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @ruby-dragonn @aemonds-fire @meggiemay82 @doublesparrows @silverwinged @nikstrange @castellomargott @lost-and-founds @chompchompluke

[gildedneon]

That Which I Cannot See

That Which I Cannot See - Part 2 - Diamonds in the Trees

Respectfully, you may not use my work, but you are welcome to share it. My work is only intended for those 18 and older as it contains explicit adult themes.

Summary: In this part of our story, Vessel invites you to a Halloween masquerade ball for a little game of cat and mouse.

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader 

Tags: Hand stuff , mask play, concealed identity play, exhibitionism (sorta), sex in public spaces (privately), dub con, magical paint that won't throw off your Ph, dirty talk, and a bit of cardio.

Word Count: 5.6k(felt like way more but okay???)

A/N: I took my time with this one and had fun exploring new things. I didn't get to finish all of my ideas, so look for a bonus scene before part 3 comes out by end of year.

Part 1

Read on Ao3

-----------

Warm water ran black as I washed my hands of the paint that now marked my neck. A near perfect recreation of Vessel’s work from that first night together. I was going for a goth macabre angel vibe. The mask I would be wearing would not be obscuring my vision this time, with cutouts to show off the smoky eye I had spent the past half hour perfecting. Strategically painted gold drips down my cheeks, running from my eyes. The perfect compliment to my gown.

Golden layers of fabric lay like feathers at the sleeves. Gold detailing trails down from the sweetheart neckline through the black cinched waist, layering into more feathering along the hips. My favorite part was the hidden pockets. I hated having to carry a purse with me and I didn’t want to be without my phone and lipstick. Layers and layers of panels of black tulle comprised the skirt. The separate panels would allow for infinite thigh slits, unrestricted movement, and access should the night take me there. A few taps on my phone and I was Facetiming Kallie to get her seal of approval while I started working on my hair. 

“Holy shit you look hot and spooky! Backup so I can see the dress.” Following her instructions, I give my skirts a little swish to and fro. 

“Thank you, thank you, I worked really hard to put this together and I am so proud. But I gotta finish my up-do.” Approaching the counter, I get to work on just that.

“I am honored to see your vision come to life. He’s gonna die when he sees you. Speaking of, how is he?” The look of nonchalance on my face sets her off before I can even respond.

“What’s going on? Like what’s up with you two?“You’ve been talking for weeks and he flies you across the pond for some fancy ass party, just so you guys can what? Casually go to the royal Halloween ball together? Is that really what you’re gonna sit here and tell me?” I wince but my lips quirk up at her teasing.

“Yeah, Kallie it is. What else would you like me to say? Why’s it gotta be more than that? I’m not trying to uproot my life. I like how things are... Why can’t it just be fun? It doesn’t have to be so serious.” I continue to wrangle my hair into some sort of abstract shape atop my head.

“You’re so right you’re soooo right. It’s so casual being flown overseas and casually put up in a whole ass suite with a very casual private driver.” 

“Say casual one more time…”

“Casual.” Rolling my eyes, I stifle my laugh, and continue jabbing pins into my mess of curls.

“One step at a time please. I just want to enjoy what I’ve got while I’ve got it. Live in the moment, you know?” Satisfied that my hair is contained, I dust gold powder over my body.

Her tone softens. “I just don’t want you settling for less than what you truly want. Dream a little. Have a little hope for the things you’re scared to want.” I slide a headband halo of gold spikes into place in front of my messy updo.

“Yeah yeah I know… But not tonight!” Fitting my mask to my face, I grin at my reflection. The mask covers from the tops of my cheeks, up to my hairline. Intricate feathering spans at my temples, and the gold dripping from underneath is exactly the look I wanted. 

“Soooo, how do I look?” Letting the gold gleam in the bathroom light as I show off for my best friend.

“Ooooo yes you look so fucking perfect! Take lots of pictures!! When is he picking you up?” 

“Well, he did offer to pick me up and ride together but then he also suggested we could arrive separately and ‘see what fate has in store for us this evening’.. Ya know? Make a little game out of it.” My hands gesture dramatically as I impersonate his voice.

“You’re a little too good at that impression ya know. Ooo so he has to hunt you down! Does he know what you’re wearing???” 

“Nope and I don’t know what he’s wearing either. We have to see if we can find each other. Oh shit what happens if we don’t? I didn’t think about it like that. How many people do you think will be there?” A tight feeling blossoms in my chest.

“Heyyy don’t psych yourself out. Trust the universe girl. There could be a million people there and I bet he’d find you.”

“Please don’t say something cheesy and cliche.” Cutting her off, I paint my lips a liquid gold.

“FINE. I won’t. But if it were me, you’d tell me that even if you never see him, you’re going to an amazing once in a lifetime event full of opportunity and your experience doesn’t need to rely on another person… You look stunning. Go have fun, don’t wait around. Do the things you want to do. Be safe, be slutty, and text me when you get back.” Laughing, I give myself a final look over in the mirror, blow her a kiss, and end the call.

Off I go to play with fate.

The ride there was surprisingly relaxing. Kallie was right. I just need to focus on myself and have fun no matter what. The tightness in my chest loosens briefly but takes a new shape as a masked valet helps me out of the car. People in all sorts of costumes stream from cars and into the estate looming before me. Shrugging on a false confidence, I follow suit.

Sipping my drink, I stroll the ornate rooms, taking in the sights of costumes both spooky and spicy. There are so many people. I don’t think I was fully aware of how much we were putting in fate’s hands. With this amount of guests, there was a very good chance the whole night could pass without us so much as being within 50 ft of one another. But oh well. This is about enjoying myself no matter what. I’ve been wandering for half an hour without the faintest idea of what his costume is. Music wafts from a not so distant room, and I follow it like a siren call. Weaving through the crowd, I make my way to the dance floor of a beautiful ballroom. Elegant dresses whirl past me. Someone taps my shoulder. A man with a harlequin type costume, bows slightly and extends a hand. He’s tall, but I don’t think he’s tall enough. Could it be? But the hand he offers me is not the one I had become so familiar with. Still, I take it and let him sweep me along to the resonating strings.

Consumed by the swirling colors and beautiful music, I’ve lost track of time. This must be my third partner. The music stops. My partner bows before me, stepping back. Sensation sweeps along my bare back, causing my skin to prickle and my neck to heat. Looking over my shoulder, I scan the masked faces, searching. Music starts anew and the beating of my heart intensifies. The music begins again but with a fresh intensity. Once again, I am twirling across the dance floor. My partner spins me out and another grabs my outstretched hand, twirling me into a suit of peacock blues and greens. He leads me in this new waltz. Just as I am getting comfortable with his flow, I’m spun out and into the hand of another. Each passing partner is a stranger. This pattern repeats as I lose myself in the music. 

A jolt shoots up my arm as I’m handed off to another. My eyes dart to the black painted hand holding mine. A flitting feeling awakens inside my chest. Dressed in black accented by the darkest red, this partner is a menacing sight to behold. Mostly because his mask is as unsettling as it is striking. The intricate blood red weavings that comprise it are hauntingly beautiful. The top shoots upwards into a cathedral crown. A black hood streams down, covering the rest of his head. The unsettling part is how not only are the eyes completely obscured, but two black skeleton hands rest atop where the eyes should be. In his signature style, the only part exposed is his mouth. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and a smile spreads across my lips. White teeth flash in a monstrous grin against his painted skin. A shiver runs down my spine. He looks so inhuman with this facade. But his touch is familiar and grounding. The beat of my heart picks up as I acclimate, to my hand held in his, and to his hand resting low on my back, lower than others dared to go. Lower than would be considered polite. His touch, yet again, an intimate gesture for all to see.

He pulls me into focus, everything around us fading into the background. The distance between us has me aching for his full touch. Memories of our last night together flitter through my mind and heat rushes through me. He flashes me a wicked grin, as if he knows… and perhaps he does. He twirls me out and I am whisked away by another, and someone new is in his arms. 

A couple of partners later, the song comes to an end. I nod my thanks to the gentleman in front of me, and make my way to the refreshments, assuming Ves is on his way to me. But maybe he isn’t because now I’m stuck in the crowd, sipping my drink, and I can’t catch sight of him. I notice the orchestra packing up their instruments. How odd. Is the music really over so early in the night? What time is it? Before I can reach for my phone, that strange sensation prickles the back of my neck again. Turning my head, I see no trace of the red skeleton crown. Fingers skate across the bare skin of my upper back. I whip around, but he’s not there. Instinct guides me forward, making my way into the hall. Blood red coattails flutter around a corner. I hastily follow suit. 

Surprisingly the crowd has thinned. I skim the costumes, none are familiar. Turning down a corridor, my stomach tumbles at the sight of his mask staring at me. Cautiously, I make my way to him. 

Taking my hand in his, he lifts it to his mouth, placing a kiss along my knuckles. The faintest bit of gold gleams on his lips.

“Thank you for accompanying me this evening.” His voice is a breath of fresh air. 

“Thank you for bringing me. I’ve never been to a Halloween masquerade before. Especially not at a fancy estate.” Succumbing to the urge, I allow my fingers to trace the lines of his vest.

“I think I rather enjoy giving you new experiences” His purr rumbles through my fingertips.

“As do I... I hope there will be more. The costumes here are all so fantastic.” 

“Ah so I’m fantastic now?”

“Ha. Ha. Yours is more than fantastic but honestly it’s also a little scary.” 

“And is that not what you wanted?” He smirks.

“I did say that didn’t I…” I think back to that night in the dressing room. 

Do you want to be scared of me? Maybe a little. …maybe a lot

“I’m not used to seeing you look like this. It’s unsettling. You look like a stranger. A very ominous imposing stranger and that’s what is scary about it. But I’m into it because it’s you.”

“What about me makes it okay?” Placing an arm against the wall, he leans into me. The familiarity of his voice contrasts with the frightening facade. 

“I trust you. I feel safe with you.” And it’s true. I trust him with exploring things that are unfamiliar and out of my comfort zone. I trust him enough to feel safe even when I’m afraid and that excites me.

“Well trust that we are going to have fun tonight.” Suggestion rides on the lilt of his voice.

“I’m already having fun.” I tease, dancing my fingers along his shirt. A painted hand trails up my arm, tracing the blackened streaks running down my neck. Shivers ripple in his wake and I instinctively shift closer. My gaze is locked on his smirk. Desire curls inside of me as I remember the way his mouth felt against my neck.

“I still think about our first night together.” As if he read my mind. His wandering hand finds its way down to my hip, as he leans in closer. “What did I tell you? How I would remember the way you felt wrapped around my fingers.” His hand slides down from my hip, gripping the back of my thigh as he turns me. Pressing my back against the wall, with his thigh between my legs. “Because I have.”

“Do you remember the feel of me?” He asks, and the way his thigh moves against me has me shuddering. I nod and try to shift my hips, but he holds firm, not allowing an inch. I can feel myself pulsing against his thigh.

“I want to hear you say it.” Of course he does. 

“Yes” It comes out as a plea, one he obliges with the shift of his leg. The friction sends sparks shooting through me. 

“And what do you remember?” My thoughts are lost in the haze of lust.

“What?” He leans right into my ear, voice rumbling.

“How did I feel?” My eyes widen at his words. I feel my face warm.

“Ves, we’re at a party.” I hiss. Although that very fact fuels the flames more.

“And we’re enjoying ourselves. Don’t worry love, nobody is paying us any mind. All of these people are too worried about themselves. They might assume we are having an intimate conversation. And that is what we are having… is it not?” I nod and he shifts his leg against me in reward.

“As I was saying… Now do you still want more of me?” Clinging to him, I bob my head in affirmation.

“Maybe I’ll steal you away to someplace dark where no one will hear you scream.” I let out a shaky breath, as heat rushes through me. His head turns, our lips mere inches apart, sending my heart racing. Suddenly, a deep thrumming rattles through the hall. Both of us tilt our heads. 

“What is that?” I ask. His grip on me loosens as he leans back.

“Why don’t you go find out?”

“Are you not coming with me?” That creepy mask tilts along with his head. I feel his reasoning press against me before he pulls fully away from me.

“You run along ahead, I’ll find you later.” I straighten out my skirts, not ready for the fun to be over just yet.

“What if you don’t?” He shakes his head and his lips quirk up.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Exhaling my nervous breath, I give a slight smile and turn on my heel, hastily moving towards the source of the beat.

The ballroom has transformed since I was spinning under the golden chandeliers. Red and purple lighting fills the space with a spooky touch. A costumed DJ sits upon a small stage, laser lights flickering out around the setup. I slink my way through the pulsing crowd, finding comfortable spaces to stop and lose myself in the throbbing mass. I let the beat pulse through me as I roll my body with a rhythm that is my own. No worrying about how I look, just focusing on what feels good. Most everyone seems caught in their own trance. For a second, I miss Vessel. I imagine what it would be like to dance with him like this. Feel his hands on me, something I seem to be longing for tonight. I can almost feel his phantom touch, my body writhing into it. And then I let go of that thought and continue weaving through the crowd, finding the perfect spot. 

The beat drops and my attention snags on the woman in front of me dressed as a silver princess. She takes notice as well and our movements begin to sync, bringing us closer. I’m vaguely aware of the masked prince dancing behind her, watching us intently. A coy smile splays across her mouth as she closes the gap between us, things taking a more sensual turn. Like how my gaze flickers over her soft curves and lingers on her lips. Like the way the fabric of our gowns brush against each other, the space between us is ever shrinking. Her fingertips dance along my arm, I tentatively mirror her movements. The prince’s arm comes around her waist, pulling her back a bit, and I follow, leaning in to her. Our gaze darting between each other’s lips. Her eyelids flutter and a large hand wraps firmly around my throat. Another gripping my hip, pulling me back against a firm body. That familiar voice is in my ear “I don’t feel like sharing tonight, perhaps another time” His tone is playful but carries that now familiar edge of darkness.

His painted hand slides down my arm, grasping my hand in his. Bringing our joined hands to rest on my stomach, he pulls me flush against him. This wasn’t anything like dancing in college, with random dudes grinding themselves against you without so much as an acknowledging glance. I welcome the way his body holds mine as I move freely to the music. His hips move with me, matching my rhythm. The brief friction from the evidence of his arousal sends ripples of excitement through me. I let my head fall back against his chest and my free hand slides to his thigh. My grip tightens as I drag my hand up and down his leg. I feel the rumble of warning in his chest. But I’m having fun with this. I am fully signed up and on board for what I’m getting myself into. Slowly, I move our joined hands lower on my stomach, down, down, until my fingers dance over the apex of my thighs. His hand spasms over mine, as if to stop me, and for a second I wonder if he will. But then he gives my hand a firm nudge. My hand moves under his, providing just a taste of what I crave. No one can see, not that anyone is looking. Everyone is so engrossed in their own experience. Acting like we are alone in a sea of hundreds is thrilling. I can feel him grind against me and it makes me ache for more. There’s no way that touching myself through my dress is going to do much other than get me hot and bothered. He knows it too. My grip on his thigh flexes with the little waves of pleasure I manage to elicit. His left hand grips my hip harder. Each press of our bodies makes me ache to have him inside of me. His hold on my hip tightens to a painful degree. Holding me so still I can no longer dance. He lifts my hand and drags me from the ballroom.

Mindlessly, I let him lead me through hallways, the crowd thins out, and then we are outside on a spacious balcony. The cool air soothes my heated skin, as I look out at the gardens. His thumb brushes over my knuckles.

“Shall we continue our fun?” My head tilts in response.

“Let’s explore the maze. I bet I can find that dark place to drag you to where no one will hear you scream. Give me a bit of a head start.” My brows shoot up.

“You want me to come find you? Like hide and seek?”

“Oh you won’t need to find me. I’ll find you. And when I do, you might want to run.”

My brow furrows. Spooky costume or not, does he really expect me to run from him? Wouldn’t that be a little thrilling though? I wonder to myself and before I know it, he’s slipped down the stairs and sauntering off into the dark maze. I use these few minutes to study what I can of the maze’s layout. As if it will help me when I’m turned around inside.

Guided by a moonlit path, It’s a bit eerie how there’s no one around. I thought at least some people would be out here but aside from the few stragglers making out on benches near the entrance, I find myself alone. I’ve been wandering for a bit of time now. Oh god, what if I get lost? And I’m stuck out here for who knows how long? A prickle of awareness brings a rustling sound into sharp focus. Whipping around, there’s no one to be seen on the path. I must be getting jumpy being alone out here. I continue around the bend, pretty sure that somewhere up ahead there is an entrance to a hidden garden I had spied from the balcony. Despite my efforts, another rustling sound has goosebumps running along my arms. There’s an archway up ahead on the right, leading away from my destination. As I grow near I swear I see a glimpse of something in the shadowy alcove. My steps falter, tension gathers in the pit of my stomach. Okay maybe this is scarier than I gave him credit for. Steeling my nerves, I walk up to the archway. To my relief, the shadow was a fountain. Laughing, I stop to listen to its babbling stream. I register movement from out of the shadows and in that instant, fear reawakens, and I take off. Gathering my skirts, I run down the straight away, tiny branches clawing at the fabric of my skirt as I round the corner. I hear the growl of my name, a voice that's familiar but so foreign. Uncertainty grips my chest and propels me forward. 

There’s an archway coming up on the left. If my memory serves correct, this opens into one of the small gardens within the maze. That would give me a shot at losing the danger at my heels. My lungs are screaming for air as I round the bend, relief is brief as I am correct about the garden. I dart into one of the alcoves, pressing my back against a stone column. As I work to steady my breathing, I gather my skirts to stay out of view. With my back to the garden, all I can see is the sculpture and bench in this alcove. Over the roaring in my ears, I hear the crunch of gravel working its way around the space. My breathing begins to settle, and the crunching grows faint… then silent. I wait for what feels like an eternity, before peeking out around the column. All I see is the fountain in the middle and more alcoves lining the perimeter. There are two entrances from the maze. I figure my best bet is to go back the way I came and try and find my way out of this place. My heart is still beating faster than usual. I take a deep breath to steady myself and head towards the exit. Just as I am about to walk through the opening, strong arms grab me, pulling me back against a firm body. 

The scream I let out is instantly muffled by a large hand. I’m spun around and sent forward, back towards my hiding place. Squirming against the restraint, I try to move my arms but they are locked firmly in place by the arm wrapped around my waist. My wrists twist, swiping my claw like nails at anything I can grab. My captor pushes me with them, taking us into the alcove. Before the panic sets in, I am released. I stumble forward and whirl around, my hands instinctively coming up in defense. 

But I recognize that terrifying mask and towering physique. Fear dissolves, the embers of my desire stir awake in a consuming blaze. Anger joins the mix, my fists clench. I raise a hand, and just as I open my mouth to say whatever the hell it was that I was going to say, he crashes into me. His hand cradles the back of my head, the other pulls me flush against him as his mouth clashes with mine. It's messy and out of sync, but after a few beats my anger ebbs and liquid heat takes its place. His lips slow against mine, in an almost apologetic way. But I don’t need apologies for a game I’m delighting in. I grip the front of his vest, pulling our bodies impossibly closer. His teeth nip at my lower lip, my answering gasp grants his tongue entrance. Our tangled kiss deepens and my hold on him tightens in a silent plea. 

He steps into me, guiding me back until I feel the rough stone of the column against my skin once again. His hands push through tulle until I feel his warm touch against my thighs. Flinging the material to the side, he wastes no time, sliding a finger through my arousal and into my waiting heat. I moan into his mouth as he strokes me in a firm caress. His mouth pulls away, but only an inch. Little whimpers from my lips ghost across his own. He starts to slide a second finger inside of me and as I choke back a moan, he stops.

“I think you know better than that” He growls. I nod in agreement and make no attempts to diminish the sounds I make as he adds a second finger.

“I told you I would take you where no one could hear you scream. I also told you that I am not in the mood to share. No one’s coming.” I wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat.

I couldn’t help the way my thighs clenched around his hand, nor the sounds of his slick fingers. I’m not sure what I did to deserve him stopping suddenly, but the air left my lungs as he removed his hand from inside me and brought it to his mouth. Seemingly savoring the taste of me. Next thing I know, he’s setting me down on the bench. 

“Move those pretty skirts for me.” I hastily do as he says as he kneels before me. An eerie thrill shoots through me as I now stare at his mask. I think he’s staring between my legs but I can’t tell with those macabre skeleton hands so close to such an intimate part of me. His hand coasts below my knee, lifting my leg onto the bench, baring me completely. Thankful for the wooden slats behind me, I lean back, bracing myself as I feel his tongue’s first languid lap. The most elegant torture, to have him take his time devouring me, while I burn to be filled completely by him. When his fingers entered me once again, my back arched and I almost screamed at the satisfaction. But he and I both know it’s not enough. I’m too eager for more to allow myself to find release like this. Mustering what little self control I have at the moment, I push at his shoulder with my heeled foot. Reluctantly, he rocks back, his head tilting at an inquisitive angle. For a moment, I’m so distracted by the smear gold, black, and revealed skin around his mouth that I almost forget what I was going to request.

“Switch places with me.” Despite the mask, I swear his eyebrows shot up, and he oblidges. Offering a hand, painted black save for two fingers, my cheeks heat at the sight. He pulls me to my feet, my legs a little wobbly, but he ensures I’m steady before taking a seat. Now it’s my turn to kneel before him, grateful for my thick skirts and the smooth stone under us. My hands are quick to undo his pants, but he assists, pulling himself from the confines of his pants. My mouth falls open at the sight of his impressive and potentially intimidating length. God, I’m so impatient I almost jump him right there, but I will myself to slow down, to savor the feel of him as I take him in my hand, as I run my tongue up his length. Air hisses from between his teeth as I lick teasing stripes. I take him into my mouth. Hollowing my cheeks, I gently bob my head. Working to accommodate him into my too small mouth, saliva runs down to where I begin to work him with my hand. His heavy breathes and soft rumbling moans stroke my ego but are wearing my selfish patience thin. I’m delighted to return the favor, but I’m eager for what comes next. And it seems I’m not alone in that, as I feel his grip on my shoulder, pulling my mouth off of him with a wet pop. 

His mouth looks like he’s trying to find the words to speak, as I rise from the ground, holding my skirts out of the way, and climb into his lap, his hands coming to steady my hips. Without pause, I reach down and guide him to my slick entrance. I brace a hand on his shoulder as I sink down, enveloping him. A sound between a moan and a sob leaves my lips when he hits a spot deep inside me.

“Fuck, you feel better than I ever could have imagined” He grinds out. 

“So do you” I pant as I seat myself, twitches of pleasure jolt through me. As I acclimate, I search the skeleton hands for any sign of him. But I’m met with nothing but the frightening facade. In this moment, I wish I could see his eyes… ease biting thrill of the unknown. His thumbs stroke my hips, bringing me back to where we are connected. Shifting my focus to his mouth, I can’t help but smile at how ruined he looks. With his pale skin revealed under the smears of black and gold paint. Lord, I can only imagine what my own looks like. How anyone would know what we got up to with just one look at us. That thought sends a shiver through me. I rock my hips and start to move. I clutch at his shoulders as the stretch of him begins to consume me. My eyes flutter as I ride him. Playing with different angles, creating a rhythm that has me clamping down on him. Our moans dance in the air between us as we are lost in the feel of each other at last. His grip tightens until he is aiding in my rhythm, lifting and pulling at my hips. The push and drag of him inside of me drives me higher, my pace becoming more deliberate. I reach my hand down, fingers seeking out the spot to send me over the edge. Pleasure blinds me, hindering my necessary pace. As I falter, he takes over, gripping my hips as he lifts me up and down. Parts of my body are limp, the others taught as I spin closer and closer. And then I’m sobbing into his chest as fall over the edge. I collapse onto him as I shake and shiver around him. The subsiding shockwaves are both pleasurable and exhausting. 

“Take a moment, because I am not done with you yet” It sounds like a threat and a promise and instantly my body clenches around where he is still hard inside me. He laughs. “Do you think you can stand?” 

“Probably but why would I?” I wiggle my hips with a sigh. Gripping me, he rolls my hips once, twice, then pulls me off of him. I pout. He points at the sculpture in the alcove. I take a shaky step towards it, and he rises behind me. I begin to turn towards him, but he pulls my hips, bending me over. My hands fly out, catching myself on the ledge, and he nudges my feet apart.

“Sadly, there is not enough time left to this night to satiate my desires.” He parts my skirt and wastes no time sliding into the hilt.

“Now that I’ve had all of you, how could this ever be enough?” Each word punctuated with a thrust of his hips. My knees go weak from the pleasure and I tighten my hold on the statue as he picks up speed. Tears spring into my eyes at the onslaught of sensations. There is no space for words between the cries from my lips. I am at his mercy. One of his hands creeps between my legs, but if I have another orgasm here I think he would need to carry me from this garden. I drag his hand up to my chest instead and he works his hand beneath the fabric, teasing me with those skilled fingers. My legs tremble as I near my limit. My cries turn to borderline sobs. He slows for a few seconds and then sets a punishing pace. 

“Make no mistake. I am not done with you yet.” He growls. As his grip tightens, his thrusting becomes erratic. Just as my legs begin to buckle, he pulls out, spilling himself into the bushes. 

“Well… the night is still young.” I try to keep my voice even despite my labored breath. “Why don’t we go back to that lovely hotel you got me?” ---- ~Bonus chapter coming soon~

[belovedmusings]

You know you're my weakness.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Smut (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part four of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and tonight you are at his very first show with his new band, Curse Manipulator, lead by bassist and singer, Suguru Geto. You and Suguru are very attracted to each other, and your loyalty to Choso is once again put to the test by Suguru.

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, Choso is a sweetheart, Suguru is irresistible, drunk Choso, emotional Choso, slow burn, no “y/n” for immersion, reader has no defining features for inclusivity, mild grinding and groping

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: eyes don’t lie (Isabel LaRosa), Bad Romance (Lady Gaga), Jealous Guy (The Weeknd)

A/N: so there’s no smut again but there’s adult themes so I tagged 18+. It’s a long chapter so get comfortable. Hope you enjoy!!

Read below cut:

The show ends and as soon as the members leave the stage for the roadies to start clearing away the equipment, you meet with Choso and you all make your way back to the dressing room.

Suguru holds the door open for everyone and they all bee-line for the water bottles on the table where the pizza was earlier, the bassist making his way there last as you move to sit on the sofa. You watch as he grabs a bottle and unscrews the cap, tilting his head back to drink.

Oh.

You aren’t prepared for the sight of his exposed neck, his Adam’s apple and the veins near where his shoulders meet the column, the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt, skin sweaty from exertion while performing…

His eyes find yours as he finishes, but your attention is taken from him when Choso sits beside you and hands you an extra water he grabbed. His arm comes around your shoulders, and you turn to look at him instead.

“Doing okay?” He asks you, eyes still shining with concern. You nod, clutching the bottle in both hands.

“I’m fine,” you reply, shaking your head after a moment, “Forget about me. You did amazing up there, Chos’. You’re a natural. Really—it was like I was seeing a celebrity.”

His face heats and he laughs in a huff, looking at his lap. “I don’t know about that, but…”

“Seriously,” you say, wanting him to know just how good he did. “If I wasn’t already dating you I’d have fallen in love in the crowd. I’m sure people did.”

He covers his face with his free hand and groans in embarrassment. “Okay, okay.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to his reddened cheek.

Then, you feel the other side of the couch dip, followed by that silky voice that haunts your fantasies.

“How was your first Curse Manipulator show?”

You look to your other side to see Suguru sitting next to you, his back to the armrest so that he can face you, leg on the couch bent so his foot rests on the knee of his other, taking up as much space as he can as per usual. His shin is touching your thigh and it’s playing with the soundness of your mind.

He asked you a question. Answer it before you give yourself away.

“It was amazing,” you say truthfully. “This band is special, seriously.”

The smile on his face remains the same. “How’d I do?”

What? He asked me that in front of Choso?

You swallow thickly, willing yourself not to look at your boyfriend. That would make you look guilty, and you’re not. You haven’t done anything.

Besides let him mark your wrist during a temporary lapse in control…stop. Focus.

“Of course you did great,” you do your best to laugh through it. He grins wider, nodding to himself. He leans against his fist, elbow digging into the cushion beside him. He sobers up and looks at you seriously after a moment.

“How are you doing? That creep didn’t get to you too bad, did he?” Asks Suguru. Choso shifts beside you.

“He didn’t,” Choso answers for you, “Thanks for calling him out.”

“Of course. I think we saw him at the same time,” Suguru replies. He shifts his attention from Choso back to you. “Men can be insufferable sometimes.”

With the way you’re looking at him, you’re the one who feels insufferable, wanting him in the most primal way possible. You also think that he’s talking about himself. He wants you the same way, if that damn mark that seems to be tingling subtly beneath your sleeve under his gaze is anything to go by.

“Yeah, they can,” you agree distractedly. The air seems electric, and the only thing that breaks the trance you’re in is Larue’s voice.

“Who’s ready to party?!” He shouts, causing you to jolt, flitting your eyes back to him. He’s clapping his hands together as Miguel is laughing.

“I got dibs on spinning the tracks first. Venue owner said I could,” Miguel replies, the two making their ways to the door. “You guys coming?”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll join you in a minute,” Suguru replies easily. “Don’t wait on our account.”

“All right,” shrugs Miguel, the two exiting the room.

Choso sighs beside you. “Should I drink tonight?”

You raise a brow. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I never do. It would be nice just this once.”

“Sure,” you shrug. You’ve heard from him that he’s sort of a lightweight, but you’ve never seen it yourself. “Just don’t get carried away.”

He smiles at you. “I won’t.”

“Are you bad with alcohol?” Asks Suguru, and Choso hums.

“Yeah. Can’t hold it well,” he answers.

“I see. I don’t really like it,” Suguru replies. He glances at you. “And you?”

“I think I’ll stay sober. Especially since Choso’s going to drink, I’ll be our driver tonight.”

“I see,” Suguru nods, getting off of the couch. “Well, should we go join everyone?”

You nod, standing up with Choso. Your hand interlocks with his, and the three of you head to the house of the venue.

—-

Miguel has good taste in music. The concert-venue-turned-club is lively with people dancing and having fun, dim lighting and the heavy smell of weed and alcohol permeating the air. It’s loud so you can’t really talk, but you and Choso are glued to the bar, your boyfriend nursing his third drink of the night. The two of you don’t really like outings such as this, but out of the two of you, Choso is more out of place. He doesn’t really like to dance like this—provocative grinding, groping in public—the one time you two did dance together in public it was at his cousin’s wedding a few months ago, wherein you waltzed together.

You don’t really favor the idea of clubbing, but you wouldn’t mind it if you trusted the person you were with. Choso wouldn’t want to do it, and since he doesn’t, you don’t dwell on joining in. Sticking to the bar is fine.

What isn’t fine is the sight of Suguru at the edge of the crowd a little ways away from you, dancing with some woman who approached him when the current song began. His hands are on her waist but his eyes are on you, and it’s doing very sinful things to you. Taunting you. Beckoning you. Provoking you.

He keeps her facing away from himself, their bodies pressed together, and the sight makes your blood boil. You want him off of her. You want him on you instead, to be dancing with him, to feel his body against yours, his arms around you, his breath on your ear—

It’s insane.

How are you getting jealous over a man who isn’t your boyfriend?

It’s not like you have any sort of claim on him. You have no right. And yet, when the woman makes a very obvious, lewd movement against him while she turns to whisper in his ear you grimace, turning away pointedly. You don’t look at him again.

Another few songs pass, Choso downs another drink, and that’s when your boyfriend leans over to speak to you.

“I have to run to the bathroom,” he says, “I’m gonna go get Suguru to be with you while I’m gone. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Your heart starts racing. “Uh…”

“I’ll be back.”

Before you can stop him, he’s making his way over to his bandmate. You blink mindlessly, watching them talk, and then Suguru is politely parting with the girl he was with, moving towards you while Choso heads the other direction.

Suguru settles right next to you once he’s there, an easy smile across his features.

“Hey,” he greets, and you see it more than hear it due to the volume of the music.

“Hi.”

His eyes run over you for a second before he leans back. He sighs heavily, as if words that were on the tip of his tongue are fizzling out, and he takes another moment of consideration before moving closer so you can hear him.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Your breath hitches nervously at his proximity, his face only a few breaths away, and against your better judgment, you steal a long glance, admiring the perfect structure of his features shamelessly.

“Is there something on my face?” He asks with a grin, and you blink a few times to get your head back on.

“No, no…”

“Then what is it?” He still has that content, easy expression on his face.

“You’re pretty.”

His eyebrows raise and you watch his eyes widen a fraction, lips parting in slight shock. Then, he laughs bashfully, eyes turning into crescents, and you feel your ribcage starting to melt.

“I’ve heard hot or sexy, but never ‘pretty’,” he says, eyeing you mirthfully. “I take that as the highest form of compliment.”

So, other people have voiced their thoughts on him, have flirted—who, you wonder. And how did he take it? Was he flattered? Did he flirt back?

“What’d that girl you were dancing with tell you that you were?” You ask boldly, shocked to hear those words bear the contours of your voice. His lips turn up in a smirk.

“Are you sure you want me to answer that question truthfully?” It’s said lowly, and coupled with his lidded eyes, you feel heat twist in your gut. Now you’re intrigued.

“I’m curious now.”

His lips tug up further at a corner before he leans forward even more, pressing his mouth to your ear. Your eyes flutter closed automatically, body subconsciously leaning into his. “She said I felt big.”

Despite the hot stuffy air of the room, suddenly your body is ravaged with goosebumps. Your breath escapes you, and as his eyes meet yours again, you feel certain he’s taken a few years off of your life span with his existence.

“You’re driving me insane,” you breathe, the words out before you can stop them, and it must be the type of response he’s looking for because he reaches up and touches your cheek with the tips of his fingers, holding your eyes with his stare.

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

You inhale slowly, just sizing him up for a long moment. Around you, people are dancing, grinding, drinking, moving and yet everything feels so still. All you see is Suguru right now, and you don’t want him to stop touching you.

Your eyes flit down to his mouth, silver rings glinting against the dim lighting, and you watch his mouth pull into a smile.

“You never answered my question from earlier, love.”

That term of endearment punches through your diaphragm, knocking the wind out of you. Love. He called you love.

He asked you a question earlier. What was it? What is he talking about? Why is it so hot, all of a sudden? You need to cool off.

A drink. He asked if you wanted a drink.

“Oh, uh, no,” you shake your head, “I’m driving Choso home, remember?”

Choso. Fuck.

You back up, sense returning to you as you remember who you are and who you’re with.

Suguru’s smile falls slightly as you put distance between the two of you, and he makes a move to get closer again. Out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar frame, and turn out on instinct, abruptly making Suguru aware of Choso’s approaching figure.

He stills and stays put in his spot, looking over as Choso gets closer. As he comes into view, you notice tears in his eyes.

Your heart drops. You and Suguru had just been close enough to kiss. You’re certain that given one wrong move, you would have kissed. Did he see? Does he know about whatever you have going on with Suguru?

You turn to look back at Suguru, fear shining through your eyes, and he instantly turns towards your boyfriend, alert now. Whether he’s preparing to remedy the situation or lie completely, you don’t know, but Choso sees you and hurries over, hands outstretched for you.

“Baby,” he sniffles as soon as you’re within earshot, grabbing you and pulling you in. You let him, stunned and confused. You don’t think he’d react this way if he had seen, so what is it?

“What, honey?” You ask, cupping his face in concern. “Why are you crying, Chos’?”

“I just love you so much,” he blubbers, eyeliner running down his cheeks. “I do, I really do…”

It registers what’s going on. He’d told you before that he can’t hold his liquor well at all. He rarely drinks because of that. You’ve never seen him so smashed—he must be an emotional drunk. It must have really kicked in while he was separated from you.

“Oh,” you exhale in relief, realizing he doesn’t seem to know about the…thing between you and Suguru, “I love you too, baby.”

“Thank you,” he sniffles, peppering your face with kisses. His weight is being pushed on you and it makes you stumble with the effort to hold him up. “Thank you so much…”

“Is he okay?”

You turn to look at Suguru, who is watching worriedly. Choso hiccups and looks up at Suguru, nodding profusely.

“Yes. Yeah, everything is amazing,” he sobs, “I’m so happy…I’m so in love…”

He kisses your cheek again, putting more of his weight on you and you stumble to balance it. Suguru takes action and wraps one of Choso’s arms around his shoulders to hold him up, taking the pressure off of you.

Choso clings to your waist with the other hand, leaning on you with his head, getting tears on your neck. He can’t even stand—it’s time to leave. Any longer and he’ll probably pass out right here.

“He’s really drunk,” you tell Suguru. “Help me get him to the car. I have to take him home.”

Suguru nods, and the three of you trudge to the main door, weaving through the people to leave the pounding music behind.

As soon as you’re out you take a breath, sighing contentedly as fresh air hits your system. You hadn’t realized just how stuffy it was.

Choso makes a noise in the back of his throat and starts scattering more kisses over your face, making the three of you stagger for balance.

“Choso,” you say, trying to ground him, “Choso, let’s sit down, okay?”

He nods, allowing Suguru to help him to sit on the curb, feet in front of himself over the pavement. You look up at Suguru, who is watching you two silently. You can’t leave Choso like this, and you don’t really want to be alone in this area either.

“Did you drink yet?” You ask him.

“No.”

“Can you get my things, bring my car around, and help me get him into it?”

The bassist nods without hesitation. “Is it all in your bag back in the dressing room?”

“Yeah. You…you know my car, right?” How could he not?

He grins slyly, knowing exactly what you’re thinking, and nods. “I do. I’ll be back.”

You watch him go back inside, turning all of your attention to your boyfriend. He’s gazing at you like you hung all of the stars in his drunken stupor.

He says your name, and you reach up to brush a strand of matted hair from his forehead. “Yeah?”

“I’m a good big brother, aren’t I?”

The question catches you off-guard. You know his brothers, of course, you’ve met all ten of them and even have good relationships with a few. His youngest brother, Yuuji, is just adorable, and gushes about Choso all of the time.

“Of course you’re a good big brother. You’re a great big brother,” you answer, not sure where he’s going with it. “Why?”

“In that case…d’you think I’d make a good father?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh…well…yes, I don’t see why not.”

He smiles tenderly at you. “I want to have kids with you.”

Your jaw drops. What?

You’ve never talked about kids before. Ever. Is he just so drunk that he’s talking out of his ass, or does he mean it? You find it hard to believe he’d just be saying that, even like this.

“You do?”

“I really do,” he nods in confirmation, starting to ramble through his tears, “We should start tonight. We can have ten like my parents did. Or more. I love you so much, we can have a huge family—”

“Choso,” you interrupt him with a hand on his cheek. “Slow down, okay? It’s okay.”

He sniffles. “D'you not want them with me?”

You’re at a loss. You honestly haven’t thought about kids a ton. Tonight is the last night you’d have expected a conversation like this to come up.

“Chos’, we haven’t talked about it before,” you say softly. “It’s a big decision.”

He starts to cry more. “I’m sorry. I’m too emotional right now…but I just love you…”

You grunt in surprise as he thuds his forehead against your chest, clinging to you tightly. For a minute he just cries, and you pet his hair soothingly, unsure of what to do. He is an emotional guy—he cries during sad movies, sometimes even when he sees a video of cute puppies or kittens. But this is different. You can see why he steers clear of alcohol.

“I love you too,” you reply, kissing his hair. “I’m here, Choso, don’t worry.”

He nods, hugging you closer as he just lets it out.

You stay like that until Suguru brings the car around, parking it in front of you and getting out.

“Okay, let’s go home, babe,” you tell Choso, and he nods blearily.

Suguru helps you get Choso into the backseat, lifting his strong body from the ground and guiding him in. You buckle your boyfriend in and then close the door, sighing heavily.

“Thanks,” you tell Suguru as he drops the keys into your hand.

“Any time,” he tells you easily. “Are you gonna be able to get him to your place okay? He’s probably going to pass out."

You hadn’t thought about that. You won’t be able to get Choso out of the car alone, and he’s already looking ready to doze off.

“Yeah…I probably won’t be able to.”

“Want me to come with you?” Asks Suguru.

Letting him into your home with a belligerent Choso is not a good idea, but you don’t have a choice. You do need his help.

“Sure. Uh, please.”

And that’s how you end up driving home with not only your boyfriend in the backseat, but also with Suguru beside you on the passenger’s side.

The first part of the ride is quiet save for the low music on your speakers, Choso snoozing away behind you. You keep glancing back at him through the rear-view mirror, unable to stop thinking about what he’d said to you on the curb of the venue.

About halfway through, Suguru speaks up at a low volume.

“You look troubled, and you keep sighing,” he says to you. “What’s on your mind?”

You glance at him quickly, more of those confusing feelings bubbling up in your chest. He looks so good next to you in the car, waiting on your answer.

It wouldn’t be fair to talk to him about this before you’ve even processed it, let alone Choso. This is between the two of you, anyway. You don’t feel right delving into such an intimate topic with Suguru, so you opt to deflect.

“Just a lot happened tonight,” you shrug, “I mean, the concert was…eventful.”

“Right,” Suguru sighs, “I saw him bothering you, and…I don’t know, I just got upset. I spoke up before I could think—I’m sorry, by the way, for drawing attention to you like that. I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

You definitely weren’t expecting him to have picked up on that.

“Oh, well…I mean, it was a lot of attention, but if you hadn’t, who knows what he would have done?” You reply, “Thank you for that.”

“No need to thank me,” Suguru runs a hand through his hair, “Guys like that only think with their second heads.”

It takes a pause, but once what he said registers, you can’t help but snort, which quickly bubbles up into a giggle. The next thing you know, the two of you are sharing a laugh, some of the tension dissolving from your shoulders.

You realize you’ve never heard his laugh before. It’s so pretty—like deep, smooth wind chimes. You chance a glance away from the road at him to see his smile, and god, is it breathtaking? You want to see him like this all of the time.

Oh god, are you developing a crush on him?

That can’t be, it’s pure lust you feel for him. Not actual feelings. That’s all. You shake the thoughts away and compose yourself, focusing back on the road.

“I think most guys think with their second heads,” you reply, and he huffs in amusement.

“Maybe. But there are some that think with their hearts, instead.”

You draw in a breath, looking at him again. He smiles earnestly at you this time, and it makes your heart feel twenty degrees hotter than the rest of your body.

“Yeah, there are,” you reply noncommittally, rushing to steer the subject away from where it’s headed. You won’t flirt with Suguru while your drunk boyfriend is passed out behind you. “So…what got you into music?”

He hums, giving you a look. “Curved me quick, didn’t you?”

Your face gets hot instantly at his tone. “No, well, I mean—”

“I’m teasing,” He chuckles softly. “I don’t mind. I got into it in high school. It’s a little bit of a sad thing, really—my family moved around a lot, so I never had the chance to make friends with anyone. I turned to music to cope with the loneliness.”

You nod understandingly, flitting your eyes to him for a moment before asking, “Why’d you move so much?”

Suguru looks at you for a moment before saying, “My mom was a single mother. Well, she was, after my father left us when I was eight. He was addicted to gambling and never did anything to help around the house, so she was my sole caretaker anyway. He was awful—but that’s a different story,” he laughs quietly. “Anyway, she had a boyfriend after that, and he turned out to be obsessive and weird, so we had to move. I left my only friend behind, then. Her ex-boyfriend followed us around and we had to keep moving, it was this whole thing…”

He trails off, leaning on his knuckles against the window. You reach a red stoplight and look at him again, noticing the far-away glint in his eyes.

Without thinking, you reach over to place your hand on his leg to comfort him, earning you an appreciative smile from him. He covers your hand with his own, giving it a gentle pulse, and it makes your heart flutter.

The light turns green, glow cast upon his moon-kissed skin, and you turn back to face the dash, retracting your hand.

“Uh,” you begin, trying to minimize the tension suddenly between the two of you. “That’s…”

“Sad, I know,” He shrugs. “But I’ve come to terms with it. He left us alone after I had my growth spurt and decided to confront him head-on.”

Your brows raise. “Yeah? Did you…fight?”

“He was waiting for us in front of our apartment building,” Suguru explains, “Mom and I saw him getting back from school, so I got out of the car and basically told him if he didn’t fuck off, I’d break his legs.”

“No way,” You reply, glancing at him incredulously. “You said that? You weren’t afraid he had a weapon?”

“I guess I didn’t care,” Suguru answers, “My whole life, I’d been running, and struggling. So I figured if it ended badly, it didn’t matter.”

“Hmm,” you hum in amusement. “So…he listened, then?”

“The punch I threw after he tried hitting me first was pretty persuasive.”

Your mouth drops in shock. “You punched him?”

“Yeah, I did,” He says in a laugh.

“Wow. I didn’t take you for the violent type.”

“Well, I’m not violent, per say—that was the only time I got to that point. I’m very patient. But it was worn thin, back then. I’d had enough, and it was wearing my mother down, especially. I wanted to protect her, and I’m glad I did. After that, we stopped moving, I finished high school, performed on my own, met some people including Miguel, Larue, and our former bassist, Sukuna, and the rest is history.”

You consider his words, nodding for a moment. “That makes sense. That’s good that things became somewhat normal, after that.”

He shifts in his seat. “You know…I guess that’s partly why I got so upset when I saw that guy bothering you.”

It’s like he commands the beat of your heart. As soon as he says that, you feel it start to pound in your chest.

“You’re protective.”

“I am,” He agrees. “I’m just glad I could do something.”

You flash him a grateful smile, the car continuing to coast along the road at a pleasant speed.

“I’ve talked enough about me,” He says. “Tell me about yourself.”

The change in topic pulls a laugh out of you. “That’s pretty broad. What do you want to know?”

“Well, you told me about what you do for work back at Choso's audition. I guess…hobbies? Favorite movie, show, color, food, season?”

You snort quietly, deciding to play along. “Okay…”

You proceed to list off the answers to his questions in order, smiling at the nod of approval he gives you. “I see. Hmm…tell me about your family. Are you close? Who are the most important people in your life?”

The question is so intimate, it makes you feel a bit self-conscious. Still, it’s also really flattering that he’s so genuinely interested in you, so you answer him truthfully.

As you divulge in what is essentially your own backstory, he nods and listens, only humming on occasion. It carries on for the duration of the car ride, ending with, “…and that’s how Choso and I got together. He’s one of the most important people in my life, for obvious reasons.”

“Huh, I see. That’s a sweet story,” He replies, “You know, he talks about you a lot. I can tell he really loves you. It’s like you’re the center of his universe.”

A rush of warmth fills your chest, and you glance into the rearview-mirror, smiling softly as he continues sleeping away, out like a light.

“I can’t blame him,” Suguru tells you. “I’d act the same way, if you were mine.”

He says it so casually, it takes a moment for you to remember yourself relative to the statement. As soon as you do, you also realize that you’re turning onto your street.

You try a lighthearted response. “Oh? Am I that special?”

“Yeah, you are.”

He says it so sincerely, there’s no room for jokes. You just sigh, pulling the car up to the curb in front of your place.

“This is it?” He asks, looking out of the window as you put it into park and take the key from the ignition.

“Yeah,” you answer, unbuckling and grabbing your bag, stepping out of the driver’s seat. “Come on, let’s get him up to bed.”

Suguru obeys, getting out of the car and moving to get your boyfriend.

He ducks to grab Choso’s arm, tugging him towards the door and bending his knees to pull him onto his back, draping him across. He holds onto his wrists to steady him, standing up straight with a labored huff.

You try desperately not to notice the strain of his muscles but you fail instantly. As he kicks the door closed gently, you take a deep breath, turning away to lock the car.

“Okay,” you say, “Follow me.”

The two of you head towards the destination, keeping quiet so as not to disturb neighbors. Soon, you get inside, and after you lock the front door closed, you lead Suguru to your bedroom, where he eases Choso off of his back. Your boyfriend goes limply, laying facing up.

“Thanks,” you tell Suguru. “I’ll clean him up a little. Wait for me in the living room?”

Suguru gives you a smile. “I’ll be there.”

With that, he exits the room, leaving you to take care of Choso. You turn to look at your boyfriend, deciding to deal with his shoes first. After that, you ease into a rhythm, getting him out of his socks and pants.

Next, you take his hair from their ties, massaging the top of his head to relieve some of the strain. He grumbles in his sleep, leaning into your touch, and your gaze softens.

His eyelashes flutter, and then he’s blinking them open.

“Hey,” you greet quietly, “We’re home now. Suguru helped me get you here.”

He sniffles, groaning before he speaks gravely, “I feel like death.”

“That’s the last time you get hammered, Chos’,” you sigh, and he nods deliriously.

“…won’t ‘nymore,” he croaks, and you lean down, pecking his forehead. The furrow in his brow smoothes out, and within a minute, his breathing turns even and he’s asleep once more.

You sigh, deciding to just clean his makeup off—if he wakes up again, he can properly get under the covers himself. Moving to the bathroom, you grab a makeup wipe and wet a washcloth with warm water, padding back into your room to clean your boyfriend’s face up.

Once it’s free of sweat and eyeliner streaks, you throw the wipe away and toss the cloth into your hamper, taking a moment to gaze at your boyfriend from near the door.

What he’d said earlier returns to you. Wanting children with you—was he really being serious? It just doesn't seem feasible. He’s about to take off with the band. If you got pregnant now, you’d basically be a single mother. You wouldn’t be able to go everywhere with him. The kids would only see him when he’s not busy. Is that a life that you want? One where he gets to go off and be some famous star, and you stay home and take care of the kids?

You sigh. It sounds so nineteen-fifties-nuclear-family. Maybe kids would be nice, but with the lifestyle you two are about to live, it changes things. You don’t know if that’s what you want for yourself, and up until tonight, you had no clue Choso was even considering kids like that. Until you can talk sober, there’s no point in ruminating on it, you suppose. You’ll just have to be honest with your uncertainty when the conversation comes up.

All you know for sure is that you love him, and that he loves you. Anything else between you, the two of you can work out.

With that, you decide to table the thoughts for now so that you can wrap the night up with Suguru. You reach into your pocket, checking the time, way past midnight. You’re not going to drive Suguru all the way back to his car where it is at the venue. You’re tired and it’s pretty far away. Making him call a ride service sounds wrong, too. He could stay the night, right? That’s fine. You could set him up on the couch with blankets and a pillow. There are extra toiletries in the bathroom you have in the hall.

Taking a breath, you grab the blanket from the foot of your bed as well as a pillow from your side before exiting the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

You walk down the hall and find him near the bookshelf you have stacked with CDs, records, and cassettes. ‘Acquainted’ by The Weeknd is playing at a low volume on the stereo on the table beside it. He hears you walk in and turns to face you, a chuckle leaving his lips once he takes in the sight of the items in your hands.

“Are we having a sleepover?” He grins, watching you put them down on the couch.

“Well, I figured it was too late anyway. You can just stay here for the night—we have a bathroom with extra stuff in the hall, you can use any of the things there,” You say.

“Really? Do you guys have a lot of guests?”

“Not a lot, just, Choso has a lot of brothers and especially his youngest stays over sometimes, forgets things,” you shrug.

“Ah, I see,” he nods, then gestures to your music collection. “You have really good taste.”

You snort. “Thanks. Half of it’s Choso’s, but I guess we have pretty similar preferences.”

“Yeah? All the time?”

“Like, in general? Or with music?”

“In general.”

You shift on your feet. “Well, a lot, anyways.”

Suguru hums, folding his arms across his chest, seeming to consider something. “Why didn’t you dance tonight?”

You aren’t expecting the question, so when he asks, you sort of flounder for a second.

“Well,” you begin, “It’s not really Choso’s thing, and I don’t mind, so we just didn’t.”

“You don’t mind?” He asks, “But…you would have liked to?”

How can he see through you like that?

“Sort of…”

He clicks a button on the stereo, and the song starts over. He turns the volume up slightly next.

“You seemed like you were missing out tonight,” Suguru says as he walks towards you, crossing the room quickly. “It was a shame Choso wasn’t dancing with you.”

He sidles up to your front, smiling at you warmly.

“Dance with me.”

You draw in a breath, the feelings you have for him that you’ve suppressed in order to take care of Choso coming back tenfold. Like this, you become aware of just how close you two are, in a room all alone together, Choso out cold in bed. The potential is maddening. Still…it’s not a good idea.

“I don’t know…”

“It’s just a dance,” shrugs Suguru, that damn smirk he makes good use of drawn up over his lips again. “I can tell you want to. Please? You’ve had to deal with a drunk creep and then a hammered boyfriend. Just have some fun with me before bed.”

Have some fun with me before bed. That’s going to be the new one-liner for your fantasies later, you’re absolutely sure of it.

You gaze at Suguru’s face, eyes sincere and kind. How can you refuse? He’s right. You want to dance with him.

You should have some fun—it’s innocent enough. Just a dance. It should be fine.

“Okay,” you nod, and he grins at you, taking your hand and leading you to the center of the living room. His hands find your waist, pulling you so close you have no choice but to rest your palms on his chest. You share the same air, now.

“I saw you getting jealous back there,” Suguru says softly, the two of you moving to the beat slowly.

“Jealous?”

“When I was dancing with the girl,” He replies, eyeing you mirthfully. “The truth is, I wanted to make you jealous.”

You swear your heart slams against your ribcage. Heat floods your system at the words, made worse when he pulls you against him, your fronts pressed together. You can feel him everywhere and it’s short-circuiting your brain.

“Well, you were successful.”

He chuckles lowly and you swear it vibrates in your own ribcage like thunder.

“I want you to know, you’re the only one I want.”

Your breath stutters on its way out. How can he continue to say things like that to you?

“Suguru…”

“You can feel it, can’t you?” He asks, “The potential between us?”

You force yourself to breathe, barely paying attention to your dancing now. His eyes are reaching into your soul. You thank your past self for deciding not to drink, because if you had, you’d have probably kissed him by now. Instead, you cling to your wits.

“I’m not going to hurt him. You know I love him, Suguru.”

“I know,” he agrees, “But I still want you.”

“You shouldn’t,” you say, feeling your resolve start to crumble. He’s right here. Touching you, breathing the same air—you could give in right now and have him on the couch. You could finally answer all of the questions you have about what he’s like, what you’d be like getting intimate with him…

He searches your eyes while you let your thoughts run wild. “Push me away if you don’t want this.”

Confused, you furrow your brows. “What?”

But he doesn’t give a verbal response. He just leans in, pressing his nose to yours. That’s when you realize that he’s moving to kiss you. Your breath hitches as his top lip brushes against yours, hot air fanning over your mouth—

You have a boyfriend, for fucks’ sake, you need to stop.

By the grace of your willpower, you turn around at the last second, facing your back to his front. His hands stay on your waist, lips finding your ear as he corrects his position.

“We both know you want me too.” It’s said under his breath, deeply, and your eyes flutter shut as your movements to the music become less rhythmic and more sensual. He's barely fazed by the way you had dodged him.

“Just dance with me,” you tell him in hopes of distracting him, covering his hands with your own. He leans his head against yours, sighing beside you.

“I think I‘ll show you what she was talking about.”

You’re perplexed for a second before he presses himself flush into you, the outline of his member bluntly felt against your body. You shudder—she was right. He does feel big. That time in his kitchen wasn’t an exaggeration after all.

“Fuck,” you swear under your breath, and he slides his hands from your waist to your hips, then back up. The touch automates a response from your own body. You grind back on him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you feel even more of him. He responds by squeezing your waist, stamping a peck to your ear. He feels firmer; his body is reacting to yours and the notion makes you dizzy.

You shiver, leaning away as he plants more chaste kisses along the line of your jaw, giving him more room.

Maybe it’s the late hour making your judgment waver, but lust starts possessing you like an eager demon, and when he gently guides you to turn back around, his lips ghosting over yours—

"I love you so much." Choso's voice echoes in your mind suddenly, like a flare in the dark.

Abruptly, you pull away, cutting the passionate exchange short and putting distance between the two of you. It’s like your head suddenly reattaches to your body.

You feel your heart breaking—how could you do this?

Choso had just been gushing about you earlier, proclaiming his love for you and wanting kids with tears streaking down his face, and here you are, so close to giving in to some sort of fucked up lust for his bandmate.

Suguru sees the anguish on your face and speaks up.

“It was me. I’m sorry. I pushed and got carried away,” he sucks in a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I…I know I’m probably not welcome here anymo—”

“I’m going to bed,” you choose to say, looking away. “Just stay the night. Choso…can take you back tomorrow.”

The room is silent for a moment save for the music, deathly still, tension so thick one could cut through it.

Suguru says your name, and you meet his eyes, so many mixed emotions swirling inside of you. Regret, desire, sadness, longing, disappointment in yourself—it’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. Forgive me, please.”

You don’t even know what to say. You can’t believe you almost did that.

“I didn’t mean to make things—”

“Well, what did you mean to do?” You lash out, surprising even yourself. You’re upset, mostly with your own actions, but rationality is no longer a factor here. “I told you I wouldn’t cheat, and you keep pushing.”

He frowns. “I know. It’s my fault—I’m sorry.”

Neither of you move, and it feels like a sort of stand-off. He eyes you for a moment before sighing, brushing his hair back.

“He deserves you. I don’t,” he tells you, pain in his gaze. “I won’t do anything like that again, I’m okay with just being friends with you. Can we?”

You do think he’s cool, and he’s kind to you, as well. He protected you at the concert tonight along with your boyfriend. He bore his soul to you in the car, and you feel like the two of you really would be great friends, if it weren’t for the mess of confusing feelings you’ve tangled each other in.

You know having him around will always cause problems. You’re always going to want him, and he’s always going to want you. At some point you both will cross even more lines you shouldn’t, and your relationship as well as the band will get caught in the crossfire. You can’t let that happen.

“I’m sorry, Suguru,” you sigh heavily, “But we shouldn’t see each other again. You know it’s not a good idea.”

His face falls even further, and it shatters the already fragmented pieces of your heart. “But, I don’t want to lose you.”

It stings. But you need to drive the point home. You can’t lose Choso—he’s your boyfriend, not Suguru.

“You can’t lose what you don’t have.”

You know that it lands exactly where it needs to—you’ve never seen a man break before, but the way he just crumbles before you in his eyes makes you feel even worse than you already do.

“I’m sorry. Just…sorry.”

With that, you turn and walk up your hallway, entering the bedroom you share with your boyfriend. You couldn’t bear to stay in that room with the aftermath of your mistakes any longer. The door shuts behind you and you lock it, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Choso is still completely comatose, breathing heavily, and you walk over to him and soothe hair from his face. The tears finally spill down your cheeks, a million apologies fused into each one of them. You want the ground to just swallow you up so that Choso doesn’t have to be with someone so unfaithful and untrustworthy. You let Suguru touch you, and you almost kissed him twice. Choso would never do that to you with someone else, how could you do it to him?

You don’t know where things will go from here. Will you tell him? Will you keep it a secret? Lying to him forever can’t be good—but can you be brave enough to tell him the truth? Could you bear it if he leaves?

There’s so many thoughts in your head, so much self-deprecation you feel sick.

“I love you, Chos’,” you murmur, placing a kiss on his brow. His lips curl up in a gentle smile, and it makes you feel all sorts of wrong. Even in sleep, he loves you completely. You abused that tonight, and there’s no mitigating that.

Without a doubt, you know that you’re in for a very long, sleepless night.

---

A/N: things are awkward between you now...what will happen next? Thanks for all the support, I'm so happy you're enjoying this! I'm going to be cross-posting to AO3 soon so look out for that!

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

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