#or like hickies only in places y’all know…

[seraqhites]

thinking about hickies tbh. 😵‍💫

[ennabear]

SACRIFICIAL ANGEL

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ good evening sevika nation, continuation of this because y’all are enablers who are bad for my screen time… just kidding aaaah i love you horny freaks and i don’t know what i’d do without you <33

cw: bottom dom!sevika x pervert!loser!reader, a tiny bit of voyeurism (if it even counts as that), reader bartends at the brothel, sevika is suchhhhh a flirt, found family trope????, strap usage, bondage, tribbing, etc etc etc. i really am all over the place with this one 🤦 hope u enjoy anyways

word count: 6.8k

you’d been bartending at babette’s for about 3 months when you first saw her. cracking her knuckles as she sauntered in with a wolfish grin, her long torso and even longer legs making her easily tower over the girls she came to see. never once had you felt jealousy toward them. in fact, you thought they had a harder job than you did— dealing with drunk old men who practically abused them and then left without sparing a tip wasn’t a job for just anyone. but now? you’ve never wanted to be one of them more.

it’s not that you’re not pretty, but you’re just so different from babette’s girls. you’re bigger and taller than them, trading in the slim curves of their bodies for thick muscle that coats your thighs and biceps. and you act differently, too. you’re not as sweet as them, and it honestly baffles you that they can always manage to treat their rudest customers with the utmost respect.

sevika comes in a few times a week, such an admirable woman to be in a place like this. she’s always sporting a scowl or a smirk, depending on her attitude for the day, and a fresh new scar or coating of blood on her knuckles. but there’s something you know about her that hardly anyone else does.

sevika doesn’t come to the brothel to fuck, she comes to get fucked. it’s almost impossible to miss, but nearly every night you watch her stroll in with her perfect posture, and then watch her stumble out of the doorway, practically tripping over her feet as she tries to zip up her pants and button up her shirt before anyone can see her half-naked body. hickies and bright red lipstick smudges paint her neck, and she’s still panting as her unsteady legs wobble themselves out of the door and down the street.

the first time you saw her this way, you had to take a breather behind the bar before you got so dizzy you returned home, faking an illness. she turns you on so much it’s hard to believe. and oh, how you’d kill to see what happens behind those closed doors.

to see sevika, all six feet of her warm brown skin and tight muscles on display, legs spread as wide as they can as her sopping cunt sucks in one girls strap, while another shoves a gag in her mouth, taking her hands and tying them together with a scrap of rope. how she’d completely submit to these angels, letting them use her however they please until her vocal cords give out and she’s laying in a pool of her own cum. and how she’d cover herself in that “scary lady” facade again as she leaves, thinking that what happens in that room stays in the room, although you know her secret. and you see it every night, whether it’s real or just another one of your perverted daydreams.

and so she walks in tonight like clockwork. the building is practically empty considering the time, one of the only benefits of working this late is to see her. she never looks your way, though, and why should she? she practically gets fed free drinks from her friends at the last drop, and it’s borderline disgraceful for her to have eyes for a woman like you when she has these gorgeous dolls promising to take good care of her.

they whisk her away in an instant. you’ve gotten to know these girls pretty well, they’re all sweethearts who crowd around your bar at the end of their shift. crystal, the shortest one, is so good with her words it’s baffling. she can smooth talk anyone into anything, and her friendly flirting never fails to make you giggle. monica, the oldest one, is so witty it almost makes you jealous. your jokes are nothing compared to her quick remarks, and she could easily take you in a fight if you didn’t have a few extra inches on her. ivy, the fairy, as you all call her, is the sweetest little nymph you’ve ever met. she often shares her extra tips with you when times get tough, and she’s always quick to offer you a helping hand behind the bar when you get swarmed.

it’s not a real family, but it’s the closest you’ve ever had. they look out for you and you do the same for them, quick to drag away any of the old men who harass them and scare them away with the sharp edges of your knuckles.

you watch as monica tugs at sevika’s choker like it’s a collar, dragging her away as the other two girls practically dangle off of her muscular arms. it must be a form of torture, watching them disappear behind those doors again. but you sigh and flip over the record that’s slowed to a stop on the turntable, hoping the sweet, melodic jazz will numb your brain long enough to survive the final hours of your shift. you sweep the floors, rinse out the glasses, and wipe down the bar.

without anything else to do, you sit and stare at the big stained glass window in front of you. your mind easily wanders, imagining your warm bed at home, the leftovers you’re gonna devour later, and sevika, as always. if only all of your money could purchase her attention, but even then attention doesn’t always equate to fondness.

your boredom gets to the best of you, and you wander out from behind the bar, peering down the long hallway. in hopes of what? nobody else is in here besides you, sevika, and the girls— not even babette. there’s really no point, but you carry on walking nevertheless. the empty rooms are somewhat eerie, they’re usually so full of love and lust, but now restored to their pristine condition.

you pause in front of the only occupied room of the night, standing just a few yards away from the door. it’s almost silent, but a light giggle breaks the silence, and you almost keel over and sob right there. red-hot jealousy floods your veins, and your whole body trembles as you try your hardest not to let a peep sneak past your lips.

the girls don’t hear you, to your luck, too busy smooshing their brightly colored lips over sevika’s to see which color suits her the most, while she trembles and blushes with a vibrator between her legs. you practically run to the end of the hall to escape the noise, sitting against the wall and twiddling your thumbs in an attempt not to cry.

so that’s why you wanted to take a stroll down the hall so badly. you fucking perv, you think to yourself. lucky you didn’t get your ass caught, get a damn grip!

bolting upright, you decide to return to the bar. babette want’s a new recipe anyways, might as well do it right now, and if you mess up a few times it’ll be an excuse to get plastered on the clock. with your head in your hands, you begin your trek back to the lobby. what an evil, evil curse comparison is.

then the curtains fly open a few feet in front of you, and you almost audibly gasp at the distraction before you stifle it with the back of your hand. sevika gets playfully pushed out of the room, her tits on full display as she fumbles with the buttons on her shirt. you swear you black out for a second, or maybe even a full few minutes, who’s counting?

she giggles to herself and sighs as she gets a few buttons closed, her weakened legs wobbling under her weight as she carries herself down the rest of the long hallway and out of the door. you follow behind her slowly and silently, careful not to go to fast or make even the slightest noise.

she doesn’t see you as she slips out of the door, mind too hazy to think about anything other than the pure pleasure pumping through her veins. as soon as the coast is clear, you dash back behind the jar, pouring a few mixers in a glass and swirling them around in an attempt to make it seem like you were doing anything.

monica, ivy, and crystal trail out of the room after a few minutes of catching their breath. the fairy takes a seat in front of you, smiling and giggling as monica wipes some dark brown lipstick off of crystal’s neck.

“that woman is crazy,” she laughs. “what’re you making?”

“i dunno, just something new.”

“good! we need something sweeter on the menu.”

“you’re only saying that because you’re sweet and you like other sweet things.” you tease.

“of course, that’s why i like you so much. and besides, all of the drinks here are catered toward old, cranky men.”

“yeah, because that’s who all of your customers are.” you say, rolling your eyes.

“not all of them,” crystal cuts in. “and certainly not her.”

“did she tip you well?” you wonder.

“oh, fuck yeah, she always does.”

“i think she’s the richest woman in the whole city.”

“damn,” you smirk, not wanting your jealousy to peek out through your face.

“it’s okay, we’ll buy you something special.” monica winks. you roll your eyes, although completely embracing the way they spoil you.

as soon as the girls are out of the door, you finish locking up before heading out too. you’re so full of emotions, you have no idea which one to prioritize. should you cry into your pillow as soon as you fall asleep, jealous and angry that you’ll never get to have sevika in the way you want? or should you celebrate the fact that you almost saw her completely shirtless, and replay that image in your mind until sleep takes you?

you settle for both. crying into your pillow as you shove one of your hands down your pants. the release is satisfying, but only for a quick second before you’re wishing it were her, or anyone really. the water temperature in your apartment building is awfully cold, and you shiver as you scrub yourself down. your nipples pucker and harden as you run your hands over your body, imagining sevika touching you instead.

any attempt at sleeping is useless, your mind races with different possible scenarios. you might be upset that she’s not in love with you now, but what if she caught you staring at her while she was still dressing herself, or even worse, lingering outside of that room and listening to them get her off? at least she doesn’t hate you, right?

to your luck, the phone rings, a free excuse to be awake at this time of night. you rise and walk to the other side of the room, yanking the phone off of the wall as the cord curls and hangs down.

you yawn. “hello?”

“i can’t come in today,” ivy’s voice crackles through the speaker. “i’m coming down with something, and i think monica is too. maybe i got it from her or, or gave it to—?”

“it’s okay, sweetheart.” you assure her. “get some rest, do you need me to come over?”

“no, crystal said she’d come take care of me. but thank you.”

“okay, call me if you need anything. i love you.”

“i love you too,” she yawns, her voice sounds thick and congested. “and tell my regulars i love them, you could always cover for me if you want.”

“oh, fuck off.” you laugh. “i’m not gonna cover your shift as a prostitute, but get well soon.”

“okay, thank you, sorry if i woke you up.”

“it’s okay, i wasn’t sleeping anyways. i’ll check in soon, okay?”

“okay, bye, goodnight.” she sighs, and you slot the phone back against the wall.

and so the day passes agonizingly slow without any support. it’s a friday, so as soon as it hits 3pm, people flood in to get a good start to their weekend. there are a few girls who you’re friendly with, but you don’t get to know them very well since they’re always leaving at the beginning of your shift. babette comes in, though, and she sits and chats with you to keep you company.

she’s such a sweet soul, and she’s so wise it makes you want to take notes on everything she says. she tells you crazy stories, laughs, cries, and gives you advice before returning to her office for the night. so you’re left alone, eyeballing various flavors and liquors into you glass in attempt to make a cocktail that’s sweet enough for your little fairy.

after about an hour of this, you give up and rinse your glass out with water. none of their regular customers come in tonight, which is strange because usually fridays are their busiest nights. sevika comes in though, she must not have gotten the memo, but you’re not about to complain.

“your favorites aren’t in tonight,” you warn her just as she steps in. “one of ‘em caught the flu and spread it to the rest.”

“shit,” she huffs, “d’you think i could have a shot with the hot bartender?”

you scoff at this, cheeks heating up involuntarily. “i’m not a hot bartender, just a regular bartender. and i don’t offer any… services, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“agree to disagree.” she winks, planting herself at the stool right in front of you. “and no worries, i’ll take a whiskey.”

an eerie silence fills the room, the same one that always lingers in the brothel. you’re practically dying to say something, but you don’t know what to say other than something stupid and embarrassing.

sevika breaks the silence, though, saying “they talk about you a lot, you know.”

“do they?” you pretend to be shocked, but they’re your family, your sisters. of course you talk about each other, who else do you have to be proud of in a world like this?

“yeah. apparently you’re scary as hell but you can crack some mean jokes.”

“sometimes,” you admit with a shy smile. “although it’s mostly just when i’m half asleep at the very end of my shift that i let that side of me come out.”

“will i be lucky enough to see it?”

“maybe if you hang around long enough.”

“you could keep me waiting ‘til the end of time and i’d still be here.” she says, almost too nonchalantly.

you roll your eyes and slide her her whiskey, propping yourself up on your elbows as you study her up close for the first time ever. her mechanical arm is extremely detailed, each nut and bolt have a different important job that can’t function without the others. like you and your sisters.

“although, i have to admit,” she finally says. “i don’t see how you can be scary.”

“you haven’t seen me dragging old perverts out of here by the hem of their t-shirts, that’s why.”

“does it happen a lot?” she asks.

“hell no, you think i let those fuckers live to see another day? to come back in here?” you laugh. “absolutely not.”

“so there’s the humor.” she notices.

“yeah,” you smile. “except i wasn’t joking. and i bet you’d do the same if you’ve ever encountered them.”

“oh, trust me, i have.” she recalls with a grunt. “dumbfucks littering the streets yet topside is concerned about us.”

you hum in response. “it’s really not fair… can i ask you a question?”

“fire away.”

“why do you come in here?” you start. “i mean— no shame, i work here, but you couldn’t have found a better brothel?”

“i dunno, i don’t really care for the better ones. plus, i’ve known babette forever, literally. she’s been around for so long, i enjoy supporting her and her workers.”

“yeah, that checks out.” you sigh, babette really is a sweetheart, she might be the only good thing left about the undercity. “but isn’t it hard not to fall in love with them? how do you do it?”

she pauses for a moment, calculating her answer in her mind first. “i love them and everything they do for me, but i’m not really, into them like that.”

“oh, i’m sorry for assumi—”

“no, i do like girls,” she assures you. “just not them. i like my ladies with a little bit more meat on their bones.” she says with a wolfish grin, eyeing your body up and down.

“oh, you stop it!!” you grin back at her, a warm, tingly feeling flushing over your body.

“i didn’t call you a hot bartender for nothing, but i don’t date for looks, anyways. actually, i don’t really date in general, but maybe i just haven’t found the one.” she says, putting a suggestive emphasis on the one. she slides her empty glass toward you and rises from her stool. you’re sad to see her go so early, especially when she just started flirting with you, but oh well. you can’t force her to stay.

“i better head out, silco’s got me going up to topside tomorrow morning for god knows what. thanks for the chat.” she announces, sliding a few coins your way.

“good luck with that.” you smile. “and if you ever need a drink, you know where to find me.”

she chuckles at you as she shoves the door open, and you see something in her smile that you’ve never seen before. a small gap in between her two front teeth, the cutest little addition to her scary, stoical face. as soon as she’s out of the door, you sit on the ground behind the bar and hold your head in your hands again. jesus christ, was that the love of your life flirting with you? if only she knew how much you liked her.

the idea of calling the girls and telling them what just happened tempts you, but they don’t know that you’re head over heels for her. and what if they are? what if one, or even all three of them see her as more than a customer? you don’t wanna make things weird, so you stand up and head to babette’s office to bid her farewell for the night.

her office is small and dimly lit, but cozy. she smiles at you warmly as you step inside, quickly thanking you for your time earlier, and wishing you a good night. all of your dread seems to float away from your body as you walk home, the bitter frost of the night doesn’t sting your fingertips, but instead the butterflies in your stomach warm them.

if you thought your sleep last night wasn’t restful, tonight is so much worse. not that you mind, though, because the thing keeping you up is sevika’s deep voice repeating things like i didn’t call you a hot bartender for nothing. and you could keep me waiting til the end of time. you can’t help but giggle into your pillow like a lovesick fool, and when the time rolls around again, you can’t wait to go to work. which is something you never thought you’d feel.

you spend your trek to work enjoying the afternoon sun and the birds that chirp into the atmosphere. the girls are all feeling better today— which is a little strange considering it’s only been 24 hours of them being sick— but you don’t question the kinds of drugs they take. they love their job and you love them, so why complain?

a few stragglers hang around your bar as the afternoon turns to evening, and you get a few extra coins from a couple who tips very generously. but your eyes are fixated on the clock, counting down the hours until evening turns to late night, when you get to see sevika. you wish you could ask about her, get to know her more, but who would you ask? you don’t know if she has friends, although she works for silco and practically babysits jinx, but there’s no way in hell you’d ask them, in the rare case you ever come across them.

so you have to settle for her seeking you out behind the bar, which you pray time and time again will happen again. and it does, somewhat, because when she walks in the door tonight, she nods at you with a flick of her head and winks.

sevika winks at you.

the marble countertop of the bar catches you as you almost fall forward. god, i want her to do that again, you think. you sit up on your stool, squeezing your thighs together and widening your eyes in an attempt to be able to see straight. your sisters snatch her away again, but fuck, she looked at you.

for the first time since she started coming in, you don’t feel jealous. you feel hopeful. sevika knows you now, and she likes you, even if she’s not obsessed with you in the same way you are with her. the back of your hand muffles your smile, you can’t wait until her 60 minutes are up and you get to see her again, and you really hope she winks at you again. or does something even better, like blows you a kiss, or gets down on one knee with a ring, or recites you a personal love poem.

but the gods are on your side tonight, because the four of them saunter out of their suite about half an hour early and come to surround your bar. they all have this awkward expression on their faces, one that says they’re guilty and they need your help keeping a secret. you push it aside though, because they probably just think it’s weird that you’re seeing them in such a vulnerable state. you don’t think it’s weird though. you work at a brothel, for fucks sake, and you’ve seen some pretty crazy things, and it’s not like you’re a virgin, although you admittedly don’t have much experience.

“glad to see you all are feeling better,” you greet. “and sevika, welcome back.”

she smiles, her mech arm rattling slightly. the girls all exchange a look at each other, “yeah, thanks.” crystal says, reaching up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around your neck in a hug. monica nudges ivy as she giggles, and sevika grins into her lap, human fingers fiddling with her metal fingers.

“oh fuck, don’t tell me you guys are in trouble again.”

“no, nothing like that.” crystal assures you.

“then what’s with the looks? you guys all look guilty as hell.”

“we’re just glad to see you again, that’s all.” monica smiles, one of her perfect, dark curls falling into her face gracefully.

you cringe, painfully aware that none of their stories are adding up. “so… can i get you anything?” you ask.

“well, uh—”

“not for us—”

“maybe lat—” they all say simultaneously. sevika is silent, giggling as quietly as she can into her lap, and completely avoiding eye contact with you. she looks up and raises her eyebrows at them, a silent signal for them to… do something.

“i think we’re gonna go now, but you two have fun!” crystal says, and they all run back down the hallway, giggling and tripping over one another in their heels as they do.

“what on earth is up with them?” you ask sevika.

“it’s nothing,” she says with a laugh. “or… maybe it’s something? i’m not too sure either.”

you slide her a glass of whiskey, just like you had last night. “this one’s on the house.”

“will you at least let me tip you?”

“well, i’m not saying no.” you grin, and she smiles at you again, and you hope that image of her is burned into your memory forever. she’s beautiful, it’s not hard to recognize that, but it’s a different feeling when you get to admire her up close. like a painting, you see images and replicas of them everywhere, but seeing them with your own eyes is always breathtaking. you can see every brushstroke, every small detail you hadn’t before, and it really comes to life.

“how long have you worked here?” she asks, derailing your train of thought.

“only a few months, but i’ve been bartending for longer.”

“you do an amazing job.” she compliments, flashing one of those grins at you again.

“oh please, you practically live at the last drop, and i poured that whiskey straight out of the bottle.”

she shrugs and rolls her eyes, “shut up and take the compliment.”

you have no choice but to giggle, and if sevika wants you to shut up, you shut up.

“i meant what i said last night— about you being a hot bartender, even though you didn’t seem to believe me.”

“why should i believe you? i wasn’t aware that you knew i existed until last night.” you retort.

“wish it were the same way for me, all i’ve been hearing about is you for months.”

“not my fault you like them so much.”

“i do, but i like you too.”

“i still don’t offer any services, if that’s what you’re getting at.” you say, letting her down easy, although you’d gladly offer her your services, you just wanna play with her for a while.

“of course not.” she smiles. “not unless you change your mind.”

you almost choke on your own spit. your heart pounds in your chest, and you’re 100% sure she can hear it right now. you giggle and hide your face in your hands, trying to keep your mouth shut for a few seconds before you leap over the bar and jump her bones.

“is that what they put you up to? to come sit here and flirt with me?”

“well, i’m not saying no, either. but i’m being genuine.”

you giggle again and punch her flesh shoulder over the counter, praying it’s not painfully aware how strongly you’re blushing right now. “no way you’re sitting here telling me about how badly you wanna get in my pants, when you just kicked out your own prostitutes.”

she shrugs, the scars on the side of her face slightly scrunching up as she smiles. “i can’t help it,” she laughs. “you charm me too much.”

“sevika!” you almost shout, completely baffled and astounded at her flirting. your mouth hangs open as you think of what else you can say, but nothing comes to mind.

“it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but i think you should at least know the effect you have on other people.”

you lean forward on the counter, holding your warm cheeks in your hands. “you should know the effect that you have on people.”

“i do, i’m very aware of it. especially from you.” she taunts leaning forward until your eyes are only inches away from hers. you peek up at her and almost faint, again, because her eyes are such a pretty, soft silver. and her lips are so pretty too, angular and smothered in a rich, deep brown lipstick. she notices you staring at her lips and smirks down at you. “can i kiss you?” she asks.

“i— wha—? yes. please.” you say, desperation and lust lingering in your voice. and her lips are on yours before you can even register it. suddenly all of the thoughts running through your mind, and there are a lot of them, cease to exist. because her lips are on yours, finally, and they’re so soft. she tastes spicy, almost, like tobacco and whiskey, but there’s a hint of something sweet, like honey or cinnamon.

she pulls away first, although you wish the two of you could be conjoined at the lips for the rest of time. “i wanna do that again.” you manage to choke out.

sevika chuckles at you, “not right now. not when you look like you’re about to faint, or die, even.”

“i’m sorry.” you whisper, holding your head in your hands.

“for what?” she asks, a twinge of concern in her voice.

“for making a fool of myself.” you laugh, hands covering your eyes as you refuse to look at her again, because maybe you will die.

“i can’t disagree with that,” she teases, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “but it’s no big deal.”

“sevika. get the fuck out of my bar before you kill me.” you threaten.

“alright.” she obliges, “but i’ll be seeing you tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”

“get! out!” you whisper shout, lifting your head up to meet her gaze for the last time tonight.

“leaving right now.” she laughs, turning on her heel to exit the building before you faint in her arms.

it takes you a few minutes to reorient yourself, but you take a few deep breaths and small sips of water before the girls come clambering out of their room again. you’re dreading the conversation that’s about to come, especially because you’re not sure if they’re up to something or not.

“sooooo…” ivy prompts. “how’d it go?”

“nothing happened. nothing important, at least.” you answer with a groan, starting to tidy up the lobby before you leave for the night.

“really?” monica frowns. “is that why you’re wearing some new lipstick?”

you sigh and roll your eyes, there’s no getting out of this tonight. “just tell us, please! we wanna know!” ivy begs.

“yeah, we won’t make fun of you too much.” crystal adds.

“okay, yeah, she flirted with me until i got dizzy, and then she kissed me to make it even worse.” you admit. “but i know you fuckers had something to do with it.”

“well, yeah. we had to give her the confidence to do so. she’s had a crush on your for like… forever.” monica grins.

“you guys are liars!” you laugh, exasperated. “stop fucking around with me, please.”

“we’re not fucking around with you, we’re being honest. and you should go home before you start freaking out.”

“i can’t go home yet, i need to finish closing.”

“we’ll do it, get the hell out of here!”

and how could you say no to that? so you leave, and you smile the whole way home as you replay that moment in your head. it was just like you imagined, minus all the parts where you embarrassed yourself. but it doesn’t even matter, the love of your life kissed you. on the lips. even better than her winking at you. better than you could’ve foreseen.

for once, you sleep soundly, your mind is at a perfect balance to do so. giddy enough to not be overcome with anxiety, but embarrassed enough to have some sort of weight in your gut, not letting the butterflies carry you away. you’re in such a deep sleep, that you’re not amused when the phone rings again. peeling the comforter off of you, you rise and yank the phone off of the wall, getting deja vu from only a few nights ago.

“hello?” you ask with a little bit of sass in your voice.

“we can’t come in again, we’re sick… again.” crystal says.

“all of you? but you were fine yesterday.”

“well, it got worse or something, i dunno, but you’re on your own today.”

you sigh, already dreading the fact that your shift is gonna drag on without them. oh well, at least sevika promised she’d be there. “okay…” you bark. “get well soon, call me if you need anything.”

“yeah, bye, good luck!” she almost squeals.

you trudge back to bed, willing yourself to get a few more hours of sleep, although it’s nearly noon and you should get up soon. you ignore the clock, shoving your face in your pillow in an attempt to block the sunlight out from your eyes. but now you can’t sleep, you’re thinking about how you and sevika are gonna be alone together again, but this time you’ll have to face yesterdays events.

when your alarm rings, you groan, and then take a second to scream into your pillow, praying your apartment neighbors don’t worry too much. you dress in your usual work uniform, black shirt, cargos, non-slip shoes. sevika must see something really special in me, you think, because there’s no way she’s choosing me over everyone else in this town.

for breakfast, you guzzle down half of a protein shake followed by two anxiety pills, and then you brush your teeth for an extra few minutes today, just in case. and maybe you accidentally sprayed more perfume than you usually do, but nobody needs to know that. you shove your shoes on, mentally preparing yourself for what could be one of the worst days of your life.

strangely, suspiciously, yet to your luck, none of ivy, crystal, or monica’s regulars come in to visit them. you start to suspect they did it on purpose, although it seems impossible. but if they did, those girls are crazy and you don’t deserve them. in fact, the brothel is empty nearly the whole day. as soon as the other girls clock out, nobody comes in at all. not until sevika shows up when she usually does, and she’s the first drink you pour all day.

“i missed you,” she sighs, heading straight for her usual barstool.

“i… missed you too. did they tell you they weren’t gonna be here tonight?” you ask.

“uhh— yeah, they did. but i wanted to spend my evening with you, anyways.”

“oh, well i’m flattered. but i didn’t know you kept in touch with them like that.”

“well…” she starts, looking to the side in an attempt to conjure up something to say. “never mind.”

you slide her a usual glass of whiskey, and she thanks you. “i never got to tip you last night.” she frowns.

“yeah, sorry, i kinda freaked out on you.”

“it’s okay, i’m sorry if i’m weirding you out or if we’re moving too fast or anything, but i did mean it. i meant what i said and i meant to kiss you, i wasn’t drunk or anything.”

“i meant it too, although i wouldn’t have overreacted if i could’ve helped it.” you giggle, suddenly completely aware of the fact that you’re flirting with her again. right now. and she kissed you. and now you have something together.

“i was thinking i could tip you tonight.” she smirks, eyeing you up and down again.

“oh, please. you know you get free drinks from now on.” you say, rolling your eyes at her kindness.

“i’m honored, although i was thinking about a different way to repay you.” she says, licking her lips as she slowly starts to walk toward you.

you’re frozen in place, your knees tremble as you realize what she means. her nose brushes yours as she finishes approaching you, and you can’t help but lurch forward to connect your lips to hers. she kisses you back with all of her might, and you almost slip and fall as she slides her tongue into your mouth. she tastes even better now. stronger and deeper and sweeter, and you start to crave it as soon as you taste it.

it isn’t long before you have her pinned against the countertop, shoving your tongue down her throat as she whimpers into your mouth. a loud crash echoes through the room, and you shiver as soon as you feel the whiskey splattering against your pants. “fuck,” you grunt. she whines when you pull away to assess the damage, but the glass isn’t shattered too much, and there’s only a small puddle under your feet.

“mmmh…” she whines when your mouths meet again. “let’s take this somewhere— mph!! somewhere else.”

and that’s how you find yourself stripping her naked with your teeth, the two of you sprawled out on a heart shaped bed. her shirts are always short and extremely revealing, but you still gasp and twitch when her abs are finally revealed to you. her v-line is thick and deep and it leads a perfect trail to her dripping hole, as if her thick, dark happy trail wasn’t enough.

“the rope.” she chokes out, and you don’t waste a single second, tying her hands together and then above her.

with her arms bound, you have more freedom to undress her without her squirming and getting in your way. as soon as her pants are off, you notice a dark, wet patch in the center of her boxers. “like what you see?” she teases. you gulp and nod, suddenly unable to form any words. “get the strap.” she demands. and who are you to say no to her?

you manage to buckle it up before everything really catches up to you. she’s smirking below you, watching as you pathetically ogle her thick shoulders, puffy, brown nipples, taut abs, and quivering, wet hole. “so? are you ready?” she prompts. as soon as she says the word, you can’t control yourself. you slide into her incredibly easily, slick dripping down her ass and making a puddle underneath her already.

your hips snap into hers, it’s messy and uncoordinated and you don’t really know what you’re doing, but sevika loves it. she’s on cloud nine, writhing and whimpering and squeezing her eyes shut as you pound into her. “mmm, sevika, is it good? am i doing good?” you ask.

“so good.” she assures you, panting. “so fucking good, gonna make me cum and we’ve just started.”

“fuck!” you gasp, and you’re squirming on top of her as your own orgasm hits you like a train. it came out of nowhere, but it’s the most intense one you’ve probably ever had. as if all of those times you’ve desperately rubbed your aching clit to the thought of her were for nothing.

“keep going.” she whines. “please, you’re doing s-so good for me, i’m so fucking close.”

something comes over you. something rough and dirty and animalistic. you yank the strap off, hardly bothering to unbuckle it beforehand. she whines again, wishing she still had your cock plugging her up, but she can’t complain when you sit your cunt on top of hers, your shared mixture of slick making an unholy wet smacking sound. never in a million years did you expect sevika’d be such a sacrificial angel, a dirty slut with needs.

her hard clit twitches when it meets yours, and she moans so loud you’re sure it can be heard outside of the building. at least nobody else is here, inside, or you two would get busted. “how long have you wanted to do this?” she asks.

“f-for such a long time.” you admit. “i’ve been needing it so badly, sevika.”

“how… how badly? hmm?”

“you don’t even know.” you whimper. “i would listen to you in here whenever i needed it the most. and sometimes i’d watch you leave half undressed and wish it was me who did that to you.” you slide herself against her as deeply as you can, and you’re practically humping her like a dog at this point. the pair of you only get more soaked until sevika’s clenching her legs around yours, locking you in place as she cums so hard she can’t see straight.

as soon as she comes down from her orgasm, she says something quick and muffled like “ididitonpurpose” but you don’t quite hear it.

“i did it on purpose to fuck with you.” she sighs, repeating herself more clearly now. “i’ve had my eye on you for such a long time, i thought you’d eventually pick up on it and make a move, but you never did. so i started fucking with you instead.”

“what?” you ask, completely appalled. “are you kidding?”

“no, most of the nights i’ve spent here has been me and the girls plotting on how to fuck with you the hardest. notice how none of their other customers are here? and how they mysteriously recovered from their illness for a day until catching it again?”

“wait, so is this a prank?” you ask, brain fuzzy from having sex with sevika but also from finally piecing things together.

“well, not this.” she says, gesturing with her head to your mutually nude bodies tangled together. “but they helped me plan the evening, yes.”

“you… fucker!” you shout, a light giggle following after. “am i really that blind?”

“i guess so.” she shrugs. “now, are you gonna untie me so i can show you what my arm can do, or are you gonna sit there with your jaw open like that.”

you smack her shoulder playfully, ducking down and settling yourself on her lap for a final makeout session before you have to give up your top duties for the night. not like you care, though, because her arm can do some pretty cool tricks, and she tips you well nearly every night from now on.

author’s note: tehe haiii i didn’t wanna add this at the beginning cause i always yap too much, so if you made it all this way THANK YOU FOR READING 🤭 i luv you guys so much and i love our little sevibear… apologies for teasing the hell out of this and taking forever to finish LMAOOO oops. anyways special shoutout to my 3 favorite mutuals (you know who you are) for giving me motivation to finish this, i love you guys the mostest mwah mwah mwah y’all are wayyyyy too nice to me and i appreciate you more than you know <333 comments and reblogs are very appreciated!!!! lmk what you thought!!!!!! thanksssss 🫶

[talesof-old]

Ooo could I request some Sirius HCs, because I know when he finds the one he is a full on slut for them only (your last Sirius HCs made me giggle he’s so mwah)

warning(s): 18+, smut

sirius black headcanons

masterlist

oh absolutely. Sirius would be 100% weak for his partner. Bat your pretty lashes at him and he’s a goner.

He’s selfish at first, I’ll admit, but as you get older and grow closer he grows out of it (at least a little). He’d prefer receiving, but so long as he has you in his life he’ll be grateful for whatever attention you give him.

Reverse cowgirl is one of his favorite positions, and probably prone bone. He’s an ass man, any position that gives him access to your cunt and a view of your butt is a favorite in his book.

He likes it rough, though he does enjoy a good love making session occasionally. Tug on his hair, bite into his skin, leave hickies and bruises: he doesn’t care. On days when he’s going through it though, he prefers to be coddled. Be gentle. But god forbid you have a bad day, he’s going to smother the fuck out of you. Slow sex, deep kisses, a whole lotta aftercare, bathing together, all of that.

Sirius likes risks, so if he can fuck you in a place where you might get caught by others he’s 100% gonna do it if you’re down. There’s something about the thrill of it.

He loves to wear clothes that he knows will rile you up; he hates it when other people make comments on his clothes. He put that on for you to enjoy, fuck everybody else.

I think that he would really enjoy wearing his rings while y’all are fucking. They’re cold when you first feel them, but they warm up the longer his fingers are inside of you

Also loves to use his tongue. He’ll lick and mouth all over your skin like there’s no tomorrow. You definitely will have love bites in the weirdest places.

+++

[msmk11]

Marauders era hcs: how they would react to you filming a sexy dance for tik tok

James

At first he’s a little dumbfounded

And entranced. Mans is the biggest simp for you so ofc he’s drooling a little

But then he snaps out of it and is like, the fuck? This is for MY eyes only

Jamie literally walks over and stands in front of you, blocking the camera from seeing you

When you try to go around him he just grabs you by the waist and firmly pushes you back again

He also pulls out the “scary bf” look, even though he’d never actually hurt a fly, by crossing his arms across his chest and staring at the camera (flexes those muscles babyyyy)

Afterwards, he does beg for you to give him a private show ;)

Remus

He thinks you look mega sexy- though he always does

But we all know Remus is possessive af and that shit will NOT slide with him.

He stalks over and instantly grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder

Your phone is left behind as you pout and kick your legs, begging for him to let you down

Ofc, he doesn’t.

Not until you’re upstairs at least…

You’re so in for it

Sirius

If anything, I actually think you’d be the one to catch him filming a dance….but anyways!!!

Sirius walks in on you filming and his jaw drops. He just stands there the whole time thinking about how gorgeous you are.

When you’re done he finally walks over and he asks you not to post it.

You think it’s cuz he’s mad, but then he tells you that he just wants you to refilm it- with him in it.

He begs you to teach him the dance and you guys spend the next hour practicing

FINALLY you film it and y’all nailed it

Sirius is an influencer you can’t tell me otherwise

Peter

I’m actually certain he’d already be in the room with you when you’re filming because he just loves to watch you in your element/having fun

BIGGEST cheerleader and supporter

He is hyping you up with every take

Definitely blushing A LOT

Also, not nervous at all for you to post it. He completely and totally trusts you.

Lily

Mad as hell when she catches you doing it

Not because she’s jealous or possessive (though I totally think she could be)

She is offended you didn’t ask her to join you :(

She loves doing TikTok dances!

When you apologize to her she just pouts and ignores you

It takes some doting and petting to put a smile back on her face

She finally agrees to forgive you but makes you film the dance on her account instead of yours

(You can’t even be mad or annoyed because she’s so precious)

Marlene

It is actually her idea to film it

She has the dance down already and teaches it to you

She definitely leaves you feeling a little flustered as she teaches you

And when you film it.

You’re sort of a stuttering, blushing mess in the video and all the comments point it out

The cheeky bastard just smirks when you whine to her about it later

Dorcas

When she catches you filming the dance, she acts completely unbothered (even though she does actually think you look good)

Thinks you’re a complete and utter tease :)

Two can play at that game

She flirts like crazy after you’re done filming it but ignores your own advances

Leaves you a flustered MESS

You pretend to pout but you’re actually just more determined now to get her attention

You basically have to beg her !

Mary

So Mary definitely did the trend before you did and it drove you crazy

She looked so good in it

So of course you have to get her back

You put your ALL into learning this dance

When she gets the notification that you posted, she is shocked at what she sees

She leaves her place on the couch and goes to find you in your room

You know what happens next

Regulus

You are dead meat my guy

When he catches you he is FUMING

Yes he thinks you look sexy. But you are HIS. No other bitches should lay their eyes on you

He is snatching your phone up instantly and throwing it across the room

He then starts kissing you possessively

Teaches you a lesson that’s for sure

No chance you’ll be able to hide those hickies…

(Makes sure you delete the video)

[xxsabitoxx]

Tengen, Makio, Suma and Hina NSFW Alphabet

Tengen x Makio x Suma x Hina x implied Fem!Reader

Warning: this post is full of smut

A/N: I know y’all been missing them :’) so here they are eheh I hope this satisfies the cravings for a tiny bit!

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Tengen: this man will do absolutely everything for the four of you, from start to finish his whole focus is always on you four. That being said, he’s a sucker for aftercare. He not only loves providing it for the four of you, but he loves when you four provide it for him.

Makio: she’s the one getting up to get the cleaning supplies. Wet cloths, water, fresh clothing, etc. Makio’s love language is acts of service and this is her biggest way of expressing her affection after the fact without getting flustered.

Suma: she’s super clingy after, placing soft kisses and gentle caresses. She’s usually always attached to one of you while you clean up, her cheek pressed to your shoulder as you five chat softly. She also loves being babied so it’s not shocking that she’s clingy after.

Hinatsuru: she’s fussing over everyone after the fact while also being completely blissed out. I see Hina being pretty quiet after, a smile always present on her face as she runs her hands through your hair, snuggled tightly in Tengen’s embrace while watching you and Makio giggle as you talk.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Tengen: don’t you dare make this man choose. He’s obsessed with his body to be completely honest. He put a lot of effort into it after all. On the four of you, Tengen is completely obsessed with your thighs. I mean come on, this lucky bastard as four sets to admire. He also enjoys a nice ass, but is anyone shocked by that?

Makio: she loves her hands, she can’t even explain why other than she loves how they look at she loves the things they can do…heh. On Tengen she loves his shoulders, their broad and warm and make her feel safe when she’s worried or insecure. On you, Hina and Suma she loves your backs. Again, she can’t really explain why other then the text that she loves the way they look when their arched so prettily.

Suma: she loves her neck. Which sounds pretty odd but she loves the way it looks when she puts on the pretty jewelry Tengen got her, she also loves the way it looks when it’s covered in your pretty hickies. On Tengen she loves his thighs. Those things could easily crush her head never mind a watermelon. On you, Makio and Hina, she’s utterly obsessed with your chests. Anything and everything boob really. Big, small, uneven, perky, sagging, doesn’t matter.

Hinatsuru: she loves her hips. She was initially insecure about them, but the amount of love and praise the four of you bestowed on her made it hard for her to feel any insecurities about them. On Tengen she loves his arms. She feels so safe and secure in them, she loves the way they feel wrapped around her. On you, Makio and Suma she adores your arms as well. Hina is all about intimacy, she wants nothing more than to be loved and held by you all

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Tengen: if he could always have his way, none of his cum would ever go anywhere other than inside of his wives. Naturally though, he refrains and listens to what they want…aka where they want it. This man is more than willing to breed and be a father but he will always respect the wishes of his wives.

Makio: prefers if Tengen doesn’t make a mess on her, much rather it inside. But sometimes it’s very hot to have him come on her face even tho she’s embarrassed after.

Suma: anywhere is fine with her… so long as he avoids the eyes. There was one incident that they still bring up to this day and joke about. Most of the time she tells Tengen to go wherever he feels

Hinatsuru: wants it inside, she says she isn’t actively trying but she also isn’t preventing Tengen from getting her pregnant. Though, truth be told, she really would like to be the first wife to get pregnant.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Tengen: secretly wants the four of you to dominate him completely - I’m talking restraints (as if he can’t easily break them), bdsm, overstimulation, the whole deal

Makio: really wants to watch from an outside perspective of you, Tengen, Hina and Suma fucking. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be involved, she just really wants to watch for a bit

Suma: wants to try public sex but is too shy to admit it. Also because there is no way the five of you wouldn’t be caught and she would never be able to live it down since it was her idea

Hinatsuru: interested in the idea of role play, especially CNC but she’s worried the four of you will find her strange for wanting to try it.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

It’s safe to say that Tengen, Makio, Suma and Hina are all pretty experienced and well versed in the realm of sex. Having spent so much time with each other, they’ve been able to learn all the tips and tricks and know how to make you and each other feel good and have fun. There’s never been an awkward moment, which is why it’s funny to them that they still keep some secret desires secret.

F= Favorite position

Tengen: mating press, doggy, butterfly, and any position that allows him to show off his strength tbh.

Makio: doggy, scissoring, cowgirl

Suma: reverse cowgirl, missionary, thigh riding

Hinatsuru: spooning, 69, face sitting, cowgirl

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

It’s safe to say that between Tengen, Makio, Suma and Hina they are fairly laid back when it comes to sex. Like there is no reason to be super serious and a lot of the time they’ll crack jokes and tease one another. Like you have nothing to be insecure about or scared of when you’re with them. Even if you “make a mistake” or try something and you don’t like it / they don’t like it, it’s a judgment free zone and you’ll simply move on from it.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

Tengen: I’d say he’s usually pretty groomed, sometimes he even prefers to go hairless. It really depends on what the four of you want from him. He couldn’t care less about the appearance of it so long as it’s groomed and hygienic. On his wives, he’s completely indifferent. You could have a bald coochie or a full forest down there and he’s still gonna eat up up nonetheless lmao

Makio, Suma & Hina: usually well maintained. They’ll shave on occasion but aren’t insecure about having stubble or a lot of hair down there. They have a lot of other things to do than worry about the hair status of their coochies lmao. On Tengen, they are usually indifferent as well, though they'd rather have a little hair down there as opposed to bald

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Tengen, Makio, Suma & Hina are all much more romantic and intimate than rough and dirty. Not to say they can't be rough or downright nasty. But group sex is usually a lot more body worship and loving than 'punishing'. Usually it’s the four of you ganging up on Tengen anyways.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Tengen: he doesn’t need to, he’s never really gotten the urge either. At least not since getting married.

Makio: once in a while. If she happens to have the house to herself for some reason or is alone taking a bath, sometimes her mind wanders and she’ll take care of herself when she needs to

Suma: not saying she doesn’t know how to, but rather she’s never satisfied when she does it by herself. She much prefers someone with her and can’t really finish if she’s alone

Hinatsuru: when she feels like it. Similar to Makio, it’s rare moments that she’s alone that spur her on to do something. Though she’s left longing for her spouses by the time she’s done.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Tengen: size kink, breeding kink, exhibitionist, voyeurism, a lil bit of urophilia, auralism… is that cliche? Praise kink

Makio: Voyeurism, exhibitionist, breath play, breeding kink, praise kink, won’t admit it but humiliation kink, bondage

Suma: size kink, voyeurism, exhibitionist, breast play, overstimulation, pregnancy kink, blindfolds

Hinatsuru: impact play, overstimulation, voyeurism, dacryphilia, exhibitionist, breeding kink, dom/sub themes, secretly into CNC but doesn’t know how to bring it up

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Considering that a majority of the time it’s group sex, it’s nearly impossible to get away with any sort of public relations. Tengen, Makio, Suma & Hinatsuru have their preferences within the estate.

Tengen: anywhere in the estate or on the estate’s grounds.

Makio: the bathroom, specifically the bath itself.

Suma: the living area, on the mats, the floor, the walls, she likes the open doors and open space

Hinatsuru: the bed, makes it much easier in her opinion

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Tengen: he’s a sucker for soft/tender moments and embarrassingly enough they are big turn ons for him. Playing with his hair for example? Rock hard within the first two minutes lmao

Makio: tease her, be a brat, she loves when you, Tengen, Suma or Hina are bratty and defiant. She also loves when you’re touchy with her, like holding her waist or cuddling

Suma: she’s usually clingy, therefore she gets pretty turned on when you’re clingy instead. She loves when you get real close and whisper to her, tell her how much you love her and need her

Hinatsuru: shy acts of love, soft confessions, revealing clothes. One of these things are not like the other lmao. Hinatsuru is pretty easy to get in the mood, even the simplest of things get her worked up

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Tengen: daddy kink. He for sure will say it jokingly, even joke with his wives about it — they’ll even call him it to make him cringe. But the moment it’s used unironically? He cannot take anything serious after that moment

Makio: breast torture. Nope, nada, not happening. Her breasts are far too sensitive to be sucked on never mind using things like clamps or biting. It freaks her out

Suma: age play. She can be a cry baby, she can be whiny, but the moment you begin treating her like an actual child? Nope, yuck.

Hinatsuru: spitting. Spit on her cunt as lube? Fine. Hot even. Spit in her mouth? She’s tapping out, she will immediately be over it

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

Tengen: giving and receiving. Suck him off while one of your wives eats you out. Sit on his face while one of his wives bounces on his dick. Have one of his wives sit on your face while he eats you out. He’s a bit obsessed with oral.

Makio: receiving. She’s a pretty pillow princess when she gets the chance. She’ll try so hard to stay quiet but instead it creates the prettiest sounds, she loves when she gets eaten out

Suma: pussy fiend. She is all up in there, giving giving and more giving. She loves eating pussy, loves when you sit on her face, loves when your thighs encase her head

Hinatsuru: giving and receiving. She loves sucking dick and she loves eating / getting her pussy ate. Similar to Tengen, it’s an oral fixation lmao

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

This really only applies to Tengen. The thing is, this question is a bit repetitive considering the two prompts we have right below this one. Tengen prefers fast and hard, but he’s not opposed to slow and deep. He’s the type to accidentally break the whole fucking bed.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Quickies, in general, are a no go in the Uzui household. Five people is a lot to deal with in a short amount of time.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

Tengen: Sorta open minded, he’s willing to give most things a try

Makio: Sorta open minded, willing to try depending on what it is

Suma: very open minded but does have her limits

Hinatsuru: very open minded, she’ll try anything at least once.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Tengen: this is a man of patience, self restraint and stamina. He can last 1 or 2 rounds with each of you (so, 4-8 total) and he lasts about 5-8 minutes each time. So it’s not surprising that when you five have sex, it’s kind of a long process

Makio, Suma & Hinatsuru: they are happy with 1 or 2 rounds of actual penetration. Foreplay is a huge part of this, which means by the time the actual penetrative stuff starts, they’ve already had 2 or 3 orgasms. So their stamina is really pretty high.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Modern times? This is a toy friendly household. Tengen, Makio, Suma & Hinatsuru are big on toys. I can see them even having a whole closet dedicated to them not gonna lie. I’m talking even high end ones… fuck it give them a sex dungeon lmao

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Tengen: unfair isn’t even in his vocabulary when it comes to sex. He’ll occasionally edge himself or one of his wives but he’s never really denied them of what they wanted.

Makio: she enjoys the teasing to an extent but she will get overwhelmed if it goes on for too long. That being said, she’s very fair and intentional with the things she does in bed.

Suma: mildly unfair but it’s unintentional. She gets lost in this stuff real quick and can occasionally forget to ask how you’re doing / how close you are. Then again, she’s one to overstimulated opposed to edge

Hinatsuru: similar to Tengen, unfair really isn’t in her vocabulary. She doesn’t feel the need to tease you when she can just give you what you both want. It’s never made the most sense to her to just… withhold the things you want.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Tengen: not super loud but also doesn’t go out of his way to suppress the noises he makes. Talking is a huge part of sex for him and his wives, mostly praising, asking how they’re doing, if they are enjoying it, etc etc etc

Makio: she’s easily flustered by the noises she makes but everyone would argue that she sounds the best. Because she’s trying so damn hard to restrain herself, the noises that do slip out are completely uncontrolled… which makes it all the more appealing

Suma: easily the loudest. She doesn’t hold back any of the noises she makes…and she makes a lot of them. Moaning, whimpering, crying, begging, you name it, she’s not ashamed to do it. It helps that she’s quite sensitive, which only fuels her.

Hinatsuru: she’s quiet, you’ll hear her let out soft gasps and sighs before you hear her really moan. Which I mean, it’s happened. All four of you have gotten a moan out of her at some point or another but typically she’s quiet with her noises. Unless you catch her off guard.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

The Uzui household often discusses which Hashira would be fun to invite over and… have some fun with. Plus his wives would really like to see Tengen with a male partner (for research…hmm) and so far, all five of you have settled on this list of best to worse

1. Rengoku ~ 2. Giyu ~ 3. Mitsuri ~ 4. Shinobu ~ 5. Sanemi ~ 6. Gyomei ~ 7. Obanai

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Tengen: 6.5-7 inches if not bigger. Idgaf about being realistic this man is 6’6 if you think he ain’t packing you’re on crack. He’s girthy and long and has a slight curve and veins :) big long run on sentence just like his di-

Makio, Suma & Hinatsuru: I got nothing to say here like a coochie is a coochie. I ain't ever seen a bad coochie and I know damn well they got top-tier coochies. That's a lot of mfing coochie

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Tengen: he's a man of patience and composure. It's hard for him to ever lose his cool. This also applies to his sex drive. Don't get me wrong, this man is horny as fuck. He's got four wives, it's impossible not to be. But he's able to control it well and he's pretty subtle about it to an extent.

Makio: she’s the least obvious when horny, most of the time she feeds off of everyone else (unless she’s tipsy). She’s definitely hesitant to initiate some things because she’s shy about her own hormones from time to time lol

Suma: open about her horniness, her sex drive is through the fucking roof tbh. Like y’all could just be sitting down and eating dinner and she’ll stop mid bite to say “we’re fucking after this, right?” She is always in the mood… always.

Hinatsuru: she’s the most horny. She just doesn’t let you know that… cause I mean you know what they say about the quiet ones. While suma goes out of her way to bring up sex, Hina does it subtly but just as effectively. Her sex drive tops Suma’s by a lot

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Tengen: He's knocking the fuck out within ten minutes. I mean do you really blame him? He just satisfied the four of you (pretty mfing good I should add) so of course he's going to be slumped.

Makio: She's a mix between chatty and blissed out, It's likely she'll fall asleep mid-discussion. She's usually the first among the four of you to fall asleep after Tengen.

Suma: She's more on the energetic side, clinging to one of you and carrying the conversation until you're all asleep. Suma is usually the last one awake, enjoying the warmth and peace around her before finally relaxing

Hinatsuru: Once she's done fussing over everyone, she's trying her hardest not to fall asleep right then and there. Suma is so talkative after that Hina tries her best to stay awake and listen to her

[heyyyitsgrey]

Carlisle Cullen- NSFW Alphabet

LETS GOOO- continuing my smut streak

Here you go anon, I hope this meets your expectations lmao. Once again, Carlisle isn’t my cup of tea so let’s hope this is up to par.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

This man is a god when it comes to aftercare. He knows exactly what you need and when. He is particularly fond of cuddling after sex, although if you want to do something else, that is what y'all will end up doing.

He makes it a priority after having sex that you 1) have water and 2) go to the bathroom. I mean he's a doctor STD prevention is going to be a very big thing for him. (Can vampires get STDs? Can they give them to someone else?? These are the questions we should be asking)

B = Body part (Their favorite body part and also their partner’s)

His favorite part of his body is his hands (in both a sexual manner and a non-sexual manner). He loves how you react to his touch when he trails his hands over your body.

His favorite part of your body is probably your chest. It's his favorite place to line with hickies because no one can see them when you're wearing a shirt. Plus, he can hear your heart racing easiest from your chest.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming inside you, but ever the gentleman, Carlisle would only ever cum inside you with your permission. Otherwise, he loves cumming all over your thighs. (He would clean it up though don't worry)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would love having you sit under his desk (either at work or home) and just be his cock warmer. Although, he wouldn't bring it up in fear of making you uncomfortable or feel exposed.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like he wouldn't have that much experience, I mean before he was turned it was the 1600s (I think?), and waiting for marriage was a very big thing then. Despite his general lack of experience, he would still know how to please you.

F, = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

The obvious answer here is missionary (because his dad was a priest- get it??), but I think his favorite position would be you riding him. He likes it when you’re on top. He’d like being able to control your hip movements and how much you move. He’s a doctor, being in control in all aspects of his life is a necessity .

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

He’s probably something in between serious and goofy in the moment. When y’all are done and he’s started aftercare though- he’s completely serious until you’ve drank some water and gone to the bathroom. (It doesn’t matter if your human or not-he’ll make sure you take care of yourself)

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Like the other guys' hair growth isn't an issue for Carlisle, he'll go to you and ask what you think. Whatever you say is what he does. And yes, the carpet does match the drapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He tries his hardest to be romantic all the time, during sex especially. He wants you to know just how much he adores you (although there’s no way for his level of adoration to be properly expressed without hours of overstimulation)

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Hmmm because he grew up in the 1600’s I feel like he’d have an aversion to masturbation. He’d feel guilty jacking off but he’d love to watch you masturbate.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation is one of his biggest kinks. Turning you into a blubbering mess, crying for him to stop could get him off on its own

He’d like the idea of exhibitionism but he’d probably never bring it up to you. For example, his dirty secret of getting you to suck him off under his desk.

He’s a voyeur (he will not admit it) but only when watching you get yourself off- if you have sex with someone else mmm have fun with the aftermath of that

Temperature play would be another of his favorites. Pouring hot wax on your skin and then using his hands or a piece of ice to cool the skin around it? Oh yeah sign him up

Cock warming (is that a kink?) would be yet another thing he doesn’t bring up. But god, the idea of his cock just in you (or your mouth) not moving, for some reason it makes him hard.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

His all-time favorite place would be in his office/study. Fucking you over his desk with the threat of someone walking in looming over your heads? Yeah, that’s peak sex. He’d also like to have sex in your bed in the privacy of your shared room.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

There isn’t anything specific that turns him on. You could say his name (not in a casual conversation way but in the same tone you would in bed) and he’d have a boner. OOH also bedroom eyes…give him bedroom eyes and you better start running.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you're injured that’s a hard no. The only thing you should do when injured is rest, and forget having sex. Impact play is completely off the table, the idea of you being hurt at his hand makes him sick, for god's sake he’s a doctor that’s the opposite of what he should be doing.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man would love getting head. I feel like he’d like having you on your knees, it’s a control thing. Plus, feeling you gag around his cock pushes him closer to cumming in your mouth- When you’re giving him head he’d prefer cumming in your mouth one hundred percent.

He’d love giving head. He’s pretty skilled at giving head, depending on how horny you are he could make you cum with his mouth in just a few minutes. It plays into his overstim kink, seeing how many times he can make you cum with just his mouth is like a game to this man.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Carlisle would prefer a slower pace, everything around him moves super quickly, so sex would be the one thing he wants to be slow. He gets off at a slower sensual pace. Trailing his hands all over your body, leaving trails of kisses down your body.

Q = Quickie (Their opinion on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He prefers proper sex to quickies, he wants to make sure you feel properly appreciated. However, if one or both of you need to get off before he goes to work he’s not opposed to it.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He wouldn’t be one to experiment all that much. Temperature play was only brought into the picture after you thoroughly explained that the wax wouldn’t leave your skin burnt. Forget risks altogether. The most he would risk is getting caught with your and his pants down. It doesn’t matter if you're human or vampire, risk and experiment are not his thing.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Since he’s a vampire he has heightened stamina and can go on for a while. If you’re human he’ll go as long you want or can (if he’s in the mood for overstim). If you’re a vampire it’s the same situation, he’ll go until you can’t.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He only owns one toy, a vibrator. He’s never used it on himself, it’s specifically for you. He added it to his little overstimulation game, and it’s one of the best decisions he ever made.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s not that much of a tease. Most times when he teases you it’s when he’s in the middle of overstimulating you. He’ll look you in the eye and say “Come on love, one more yeah? I think you can handle one more. For me,”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not loud, nor is he all that vocal. He’s the most vocal when you're giving him head. A lot of the time, the sounds he makes are drowned out by the sounds you make.

He loves it when you moan, it is the best signal that what he’s doing is making you feel good. But, if your fucking in a place or when your not supposed to be he’ll cover your mouth. “Be quiet love. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He’s big on safe words (and say it with me now- it’s a control thing). He wants you to be comfortable at all times, so the best way to guarantee that is a safe word. Plus, when you're too fucked out for full sentences a safe word is the best way to stop.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Hmmm- he’s just slightly bigger than average. He’s not that thick. Overall, it doesn’t matter cause he can make you see stars anyway.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is slightly higher than that of a sixteen-year-old boy. (So really fucking high) If he had the time you’d fuck twice a day, but alas he doesn’t.

Z = ZZZ (…how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s a vampire, so he doesn’t have the need to sleep. If you’re a human, after you’ve gone to the bathroom and drank some water, he’ll hold you as you sleep. If you’re a vampire, after cleaning up, you’ll more likely end up cuddling.

[atiny-moon]

ATEEZ as Boyfriends

Genre: soft, fluffy, suggestive

Pairing: ot8 x gn!reader

Tags: a little bit of everything <3

Word Count: 1.6K

HONGJOONG

Definitely the type of bf to fix your clothes - like if you’re going out somewhere, i can see him helping you pick out smth to wear or even styling you himself. And when you two are out, he’s constantly adjusting your fit so you don’t look bad. The type of guy wander off in the middle of a party just so he can admire you from afar

Though he isn’t too fond of being overly emotional, will hype you up to anyone who would listen and not even in an annoying way, it just so happens that the majority of his sentences start off with ‘oh, my partner..’

Loves leaving marks - biting, hickies, etc. in places only he knows about

Will call you every time he’s eating, even if he doesn’t say anything, just bc he missed you and wanted to have you around for a little bit

Doesn’t like to cuddle but does give the best kisses the kind where he just holds your chin in place and plays with the ways his lips touch yours

Ultimate king of push and pull

SEONGHWA

Ugh, the way this man would absolutely dote on his partner. Anything they wanted - he’d be all over it. Think acts of service type of love

Loves all the cheesy romantic shit, all of it - the matching accessories, matching hairstyles, coordinating outfits, taking an insane amount of cute couple photos, going to the most aesthetic date spots just so y’all can take photos together. Knows your best angles, duh

So many gifts. And expensive gifts, too! Hwa’s got super expensive taste and i feel like he’s the type of bf to dote on you so much that he wouldn’t want you to wear inexpensive clothing. Like he’ll be like, ‘oh, babe, i got you these new silk pajamas because you said mine were so comfy’ meanwhile he’s already replaced like all of your clothes

Super comfy stay-at-home dates where you do skincare and watch the latest episode of whichever drama you’re watching. Even when he’s hella busy, he’d find time to video call you so you could watch the newest episode together.

Always smells incredibly good, addictive even

Forehead kisses & top of the head kisses are his favorite

YUNHO

Textbook romantic gentleman. The type that makes sure you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, opens every door for you, never ever lets you lift a finger, and will always give you his jacket if you’re cold

Super sentimental. Like if you put together a scrapbook of all of your time together, guaranteed this man will cry. Especially if there’s a handwritten letter explaining how much you love him - he would simply be undone

Tries to remember every single detail about you so he can either plan the perfect date or gift you the perfect item. Truly works soo hard at being a good boyfriend. Also really good with birthdays. Like, scary good.

And tbh, the type of bf to call you out on your bs - like when you’re being a little unreasonable or if you’re telling him about a situation that you’re going through, i think yunho would be the type of bf to tell you when you’re wrong but in a nice way! (maybe.. he can be kinda savage sometimes lmao)

While I don’t think he’d be super into PDA i do think he’d just always be near you like close enough to reach out and hold his hand or close enough that you two would be able to talk without raising your voices

This man loves back hugs

YEOSANG

The best at good morning and goodnight texts. They somehow always make you feel loved and special

Super supportive? The type of bf to set reminders in his phone so he can wish you good luck on whatever upcoming project you’re working on. Even if it’s like the smallest thing ever, he’d be so proud of you for working toward it and even more proud when you achieve it

Really deep and interesting conversations

I think it would be so easy to be with Yeosang - like the both of you wake up together, get hungry at the same time, get sleepy at the same time, etc

It’s not that he’s not into PDA, he just forgets about it like of course he loves holding your hand, but he got distracted thinking about what he wanted to get for lunch

Laying his head on your lap is his preferred way to fall asleep

SAN

Loooooooves physical affection. Cannot get enough of it. I think his ideal would be being able to glue himself to you so two could just walk around permanently attached to each other. also I feel like San runs really fricken hot - like a cute lil heater

The ultimate hype man. It could be a pre-workout selfie, a just finished taking a shower selfie, an all dressed up selfie, a sleepytime selfie, a i just woke up selfie, IT DONT MATTER!! San is going to hype you up every single time. Which obviously does wonders for your confidence (which was his plan all along ;) )

Loves to stay in and just watch movies. Mostly so he can spend as much time as he can cuddling with you. Matter of fact, most of the dates he plans are just excuses to spend more time with you - physically and emotionally

Speaking of, San would be such a good listener! Like I feel he’d understand where you’re coming from emotionally and provide support in a positive and affirming way and never ever make you feel like your emotions are wrong or you were wrong, for that matter truly wants the best for you

And bc he loves you so much, I feel like he would also respect you a whole heck of a lot which means the first time you guys wanna do anything sexual, it takes him a loooong time to be okay with it. Like i think you would have to initiate

That said, he would absolutely blow your back out every chance he got once he got comfortable

MINGI

Loyal af. Once he makes a decision on who he likes, it’s that person FOR EVA so get used to the idea of having song mingi in your life

The wildest communicator - like, y’all abandoned texting very early on in the relationship and now exclusively communicate via selfies/photos, voice memos & memes. His voice memos are hilarious and sometimes incredibly lewd. Like will sing you an entire song that he just made up. In voice memos. Then follow it up with what he wants to do to you in excruciatingly graphic details.

While he won’t do completely matching outfits, he is super down to coordinate outfits - wear the same colors, or complementary silhouettes, something that lets ppl know you two are an ~item~

And though I think he likes being Princess Mingi, i think he would go to great lengths to make sure you’re taken care of - whatever you need, he’d get it for you.. Or get someone else to get it for you lolol

Will always pull you into his lap. He likes how easy/fun it is to manhandle you.

Loves PDA. I’m talkin full on make-out sessions, ass grabbing, hand holding, and everything in-between. good luck getting him off you!

WOOYOUNG

Likes biting. A lot. Especially the marks it leaves

Super generous. Like, the most giving man you have ever met. Will give you the shirt off his back even if you don’t ask for it. This also extends to anyone you know, especially! family. He likes knowing he’s the one taking care of you && yours

This man is crazy into fashion and i think his style would end up affecting your style, not bc he wants to but bc he just looks so cool all the time, you’d wanna match him, if you know what i mean. Definitely gives me gomez & morticia addams vibes.

Learns your favorite dishes and cooks them for you.

I think Wooyo’d be the type of bf to be a little controlling or ride the line of being a little mean just so he can rile you up. It turns him on when you get angry. But would also definitely cut it out if he saw you weren’t having it.. He wants to fuck you, not make you mad!

Can and will makeout with you for hours

JONGHO

Would have such a hard time telling you how he feels, but has no problem showing you how he feels - whether it’s buying you a little trinket, or making sure you ate, or even just listening to you, i think you would always feel loved when you’re with Jongho

Is actually really funny? Or maybe he’s just good at learning what makes you laugh and then gets good at telling you jokes that align more with your humor

Your family would absolutely adore Jongho

Wants to experience new things with you so all of your dates are either trying out a new restaurant, or visiting a new pop-up event, or going to a new city for the weekend, anything that helps creates memories with you

Hella anti-PDA. Will actively avoid holding your hand in public. But as soon as you are behind closed doors, will be the sweetest and most loving bf - being silly/cute, soft sweet kisses, plenty of hugs (which he’s surprisingly really good at), and sooo many massages

Jongho would give the best aftercare

[daisyvisions]

A Little Motivation - (e.s) | Pt. 2

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: Baseball Player!Eric x Fem! Reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Summary: Now that you have Eric’s undivided attention, he is determined to study hard and claim his prize. But will he be able to handle how hot his prize is?

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 2.1K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), multiple male masturbation, oral (both m! and f! receiving because… it’s a 69 🤪), handjob, face riding, groping, some dry humping, cum eating, hickies, pussy!drunk Eric, reader turns Eric into a fumbling mess, praise kink mentioned, let me know if I missed anything. Proofread once.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: Part 2 is finally up! Sorry for the wait y’all, but at least I didn’t leave this one dusting away in the WIPs. Consider this my advanced birthday gift to our puppy boy Eric!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Read Part 1 here!

Ever since the tutoring session, Eric could not stop thinking about you.

The old image of you suddenly shifting into a new one as he replayed the chain of events that had happened hours ago. It was like you were a gift slowly unraveling in front of him. And he was eager to know what kind of surprise was in store for tomorrow.

As soon as he got home, he ran to his room and plopped down. Hastily unzipping his pants and freeing his aching member from his boxers to relieve all the pent up tension you’d given him earlier.

Spitting on his palm for extra lubrication before wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, gradually pumping himself as he holds your used panties in his other hand. Shoving the damp material against his face as he inhales the scent of you, wishing it was you that was bouncing on his length instead of his hand.

The blue balls you had given him was so bad, he even came thrice in succession. Continuing to fist himself after the first high came around until his body started to convulse after the third one.

He can’t recall a time anyone has ever had an effect on him like this. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s been in a dry spell for quite sometime, or maybe because there was something with the way your eyes bore deep into his soul. Or maybe even your teasing but delicate touches that sent shivers down his spine like no one ever had.

Either way, whatever trance you’ve placed him under he swore he never wanted to get out of it.

After rounds of relieving himself Eric was motivated to study hard for your next tutoring session tomorrow, something he would never be caught doing in a million years.

He was incredibly determined to please you. Not only because of the special reward you had promised him, but because there was something with the way you praised him that gave him a newfound confidence. Not even the compliments from his coach or the screams of adoring fans during games could compare to what he felt with you.

Eric leaned back on his chair for a moment thinking about it again. His heart fluttering against his chest as he replayed your sweet words of praise.

“I’m so proud of you!”

“You’re doing sooo well…”

“A little reward for today superstar, you deserve it.”

His mind started to drift as he thought about how your alluring voice would sound as you praised him for other things aside from school work. Thinking about the way your hands would slowly comb through his hair as praises turned into moans of his name. Chanting his name like an endless prayer while he had his way with you.

Eric shook his head and immediately patted his face to get himself out of the little fantasy brewing in his mind before his cock stirs in his pants again.

‘Keep on studying and you’ll get your reward tomorrow.’ He told himself.

This was definitely going to be a long night for him.

As soon as Eric rang the doorbell to your apartment, he was immediately greeted by the image of you wearing what he thinks was the most jaw dropping sundress he’d ever seen.

The way the fabric naturally hugged your figure, accentuating every curve that he never noticed until now. Not to mention how lightheaded he felt the moment he got a whiff of your perfume, slowly permeating his lungs as he stood there frozen like an idiot.

“Well… let’s get to it shall we?” You smile, already noticing the effect you have on him.

“Y-yeah. Yeah sure let’s go.” He stutters.

It was a good thing Eric studied the night prior, otherwise nothing would've entered his brain after reviewing with you for almost two hours straight (which was a new record for both of you).

“Wow, you went through the entire session without looking at your phone!” You exclaim as you close your notebook shut.

“What can I say? I love to learn.” Eric smugly says as he leans his back on his chair, raising his arms to stretch for a moment.

“Oh yeah?” You flirtatiously reply. You visibly see Eric gulp down whatever was stuck in his throat as his cheeks started to turn slightly pink.

You let out a small giggle as you pull out the mock test from your bag and slide the stapled papers his way.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Eric nibbled on his nails as he anxiously watched you grade his paper. Nervously shaking his leg as you kept on flipping to the next page with no reaction on your face whatsoever.

As soon as you finished, you flipped back to the very first page and wrote down on the top right corner his overall grade and drew many stars around it. You looked up at him with the most breathtaking smile he’d ever seen.

“Good job Eric! You got a perfect on this mock test!” You praise him as you rest your hand on top of his and give a light squeeze. The small gesture making his heart flutter inside his chest.

“Almost seems like you studied before the session, hm?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Me? Studying outside our tutoring sessions? Pfsh-” Eric replies but refusing to look you in the eye.

You laugh at his reaction and it was like he was seeing hearts floating around you and the feeling of your warm hand still holding his was enough for him to feel a sudden throb beneath his jeans.

Jesus, keep it together Eric.

“So.. Uh… About that reward…” He inserts the reminder before any awkward air entering between the conversation.

“Oh. Eager now are we?” You tease as you push your chair backwards and stand up.

You walk over to him and hold your hand out for him, grabbing it and getting up from his seat as you lead him into the living room, instantly pushing his shoulders down as he plops onto the couch.

Eric doesn't even have time to process what’s going on until you suddenly straddle his lap, both knees resting at each side of his thighs as you lower yourself onto him. His hands immediately find purchase on the soft dips of your hips.

“For doing so good today, you get to choose what kind of reward you want superstar-”

You immediately dive into his neck, placing light pecks until they start to turn into lingering kisses. Licking and sucking on his pulse as you wait for him to tell you what reward he wants to cash in.

“H-holy shit-” Eric eyes roll back as he tries to focus on the softness of your lips kissing his sensitive skin.

You hold his hands in yours as you guide them under your dress. Guiding him from the globes of your ass to your inner thighs. As Eric explores the softness of your body with his fingertips, he lets out a deep groan as he discovers the fact that you were not wearing underwear this whole time.

God, you were going to be the death of him.

You feel Eric's bulge twitch beneath you, trying to hide the smirk growing on your face as you continue to leave red and purple marks on his neck. Who would’ve known how pussy drunk he could get?

“C’mon Eric. What will it be?” You mumble against his neck.

He tries to open his mouth to speak, but all the words just end up stuck in his throat as groans escape his lips instead. You pull your head away from his neck and move your face closer to his.

“Why don’t I make the decision for you, hm?” You lean to give him a deep kiss before pulling away, grinning from ear to ear as his lips attempt to chase after yours.

“Just lie down for me okay? Let me do all the work.” You whisper in his ear.

Eric whines at the lost of your body against his as you get off his lap. His eyes are focused on you the whole time as you instruct him to lie down on the couch, waiting to see what you’ll do to him next.

You straddle him once more, but this time sitting on his stomach as you face the other way with your ass in his line of vision. Eric’s not able to see what you’re up to, but he can definitely feel and hear his belt unbuckling and your fingers pulling the zipper of his jeans down as you free his aching cock.

He feels your hands slide into his jeans, his length throbbing in your hands as you continue to palm him sensually. You could feel your own core throbbing simultaneously as you play with him, hooking your fingers to the waistband of his briefs before completely freeing his member.

Your mouth waters at the sight of his fully erect cock, his pink flushed tip weeping with pre cum as it twitches on its own. Veins protruding on his length indicating how hard he is for you. You adjust your position, moving backwards to sit on his chest as you lower your head to give his mushroom head a few kisses and kitten licks.

The act alone already has Eric moaning like an untouched virgin. The way he could feel you kissing his member all over and lapping at his length slowly. But his eyes roll back as soon as he feels his cock suddenly enter the warm and wet cavern of your mouth.

“Fuck, just like that-” Eric mumbles as his eyes flutter shut. The way your mouth expertly moves up and down, almost as if his cock was actually inside your cunt. This was probably the best head he’s ever had in his life. His head completely in the clouds as you kept on working your mouth on him.

Eric instinctively places his hands to your ass, pushing the hem of your dress to your waist and exposing your naked bottom. The moment he opens his eyes, he’s greeted by the image of your glistening cunt inches away from his face. The sweet smell of your essence makes his cock twitch inside your mouth.

He wastes no time by pulling your ass closer to his face and immediately darts his tongue between your folds, lapping and sucking at your core as much as he can.

The feeling of his mouth practically making out with your pussy lips makes you suck him even harder than before. Muffled moans shared between you as you both busy yourselves with tasting one another.

You release his length from your mouth with a pop, continuing to pleasure him as your hand fists him up and down. Soft whines escape your lips as the tip of his tongue flicks your sensitive clit.

You’re so desperate to chase after your high, you don't even realize you’re starting to grind your core onto his face. The vibrations of his groans against your cunt making your walls clench at nothing.

Eric feels like he’s entered a different dimension. He’s never had a girl aggressively ride his face like this before. The way he’s starting to lose oxygen and taste nothing but you drives him closer to the edge of his own high.

You already know he’s close with the way his moans begin to stutter. So you take his length inside your mouth once more as you suck the life out of him and continue riding his face like there’s no tomorrow.

You both reach your highs together, his warm load exploding inside your mouth as Eric laps and sucks whatever essence comes out of you as if he’d been dying of thirst. You immediately get off his chest and adjust your position to face him, slightly giggling at his obvious fucked out face.

His senses come back to him as he starts feeling you grind your bare pussy on his strained cock, whining as soon as you stop rolling your hips and lean down to kiss him again. You smile into the kiss as you feel him throb beneath you. Tasting yourselves as your tongues intertwine for a moment.

As you break from the kiss, Eric looks at you with stars in his eyes. The way you seem to be glowing in front of him as you gently caress cheek. You give him a small kiss on his forehead as you smile at him before leaning close to his lips to whisper,

“See? All you needed was a little motivation…”

[hyeque]

would you perhaps like to elaborate on mean bf!tsukki and shy gf bc that is one of my favorite rs dynamics ever and tsukki just SATISFIES that for me iykwim :’’-)

yes i know exactly what you mean anon, let’s dive in

tsukishima who before you two started dating teases you a lot but absolutely will get dealt defensive when someone else teases you. he’s the only one allowed to do that. if you try to bring this up he will outright deny it.

tsukishima who gets mad when he sees you talking to other guys. he always confronts the guy later on and tells them to back off. you get confused when guys start avoiding you like the plague.

tsukishima who aggressively asks you out, he just doesn’t know how to properly ask people out in a way that’s pleasant (man doesn’t get social cues rip) and is internally grateful when you say yes (after recovering from a stroke of course since he asked you out)

mean bf!tsukki who always grabs you by the neck to let you know who’s in charge when you start getting a little bratty. he doesn’t tolerate that shit and you know it

mean bf!tsukki who slaps your thigh when you aren’t paying attention to him explaining your homework. he doesn’t want to waste anytime, the sooner y’all get done with work, the sooner he can make out with you

mean bf!tsukki who likes to lean down to your ear and whisper in it to fluster you on purpose because he loves how easily riled up you can get

mean bf!tsukki who whenever greeting you doesn’t say anything but just leans down and turns his cheek towards you for a greeting kiss. if you don’t give him one he gets really moody and petty. will ignore you until you do.

mean bf!tsukki who roughly grabs you by the collar of your shirt if you’re ever straying away in a large crowd. scolds you and tells you to pay more attention to your surroundings or it’ll be your fault if you get lost.

mean bf!tsukki who says he hates it when you call him ‘tsukki’ but the minute you call him by his full surname the man is scowling. he won’t answer unless you unless you say ‘tsukki’ or ‘kei’.

mean bf!tsuki who always purposely places things on high shelves so you have to ask him to get it (which is a pain m) depending on his mood he may have you beg just because the mf is a sadist (which is an even bigger pain).

mean bf!tsukki who demands you wear strawberry lip gloss bc he’s obsessed with the taste of it when you two make out. doesn’t listen to you when you say not to leave hickies behind. claims people need to know who you belong to.

hehe i could go on forever anon but i will stop here almost went nsfw but chile whew

[gukyi]

love me or we both go down | kth

summary: after going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.

{enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, rich kids!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, smut (i know, crazy right?) word count: 32k warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, multiple unprotected sex scenes (they’re married y’all), fat cock tae, tae has a wife kink, lots of praise, alcohol consumption (but they’re safe), minor character death (not explicit), mentions of heart attack, slow burn like there is no tomorrow a/n: hello and welcome to the fic everyone, literally everyone, has been waiting for! i am so, so, so excited to share this with you all, especially because none other than rose @kinktae​ helped me write the smut, and i am literally forever indebted to her. you all better go spam rose with all the love and support you can because this fic would not be here without her and i love her so much. 

also, to all my readers who aren’t comfortable reading smut, please know that the smut in this fic is not imperative to the storyline, and you skipping past it will not affect your reading experience., enjoy!

Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.

The sound of them is akin to the sound of strings, of a single piano note in a horror movie, right when the film opens and someone random is about to die on screen for the sake of proving to the audience that this is, in fact, a horror movie. Make no mistake about it; these wedding bells spell doom for you, too. And the most horrific part about them is that just like that poor, helpless soul in the movie, there is no way for you to escape your fate either. 

With only seconds left to go before you have no choice but to promise yourself to the man waiting at the other end of the aisle, you desperately try to think of any last-ditch efforts to get out of this. Many, if not all of them, are utterly useless. 

Feigning sudden illness won’t work, because then your parents will just reschedule the wedding to a later date. Running away is fruitless. Where will you go? The parking lot?

If only you had a lover out there in the audience somewhere that could object to the marriage when the officiant says, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” A knight in shining armor that could whisk you out of the venue and off to a new life, far away from here. Too bad all of the people you’ve dated before hate you now. 

Maybe getting married isn’t such a bad thing after all. Instead of having relationships with multiple people who will eventually despise your existence, you only have to have a relationship with one. And the feeling, as has always been, is mutual. 

You bristle as your assistants do some last-minute prepping, fixing your sleeve and adjusting your necklace and making sure you don’t trip on your enormous train. They flutter around you like a swarm of well-meaning but ignorant butterflies complicit in the agenda of your family. None of them have said a word to you about the wedding ever since you arrived at the venue, choosing to talk more about things like the weather. Not that you were ever under the impression they had been hired to entertain you. Maybe they were told to not engage you, just in case you try to conspire with them.

As if they could be of any use in your wildly unrealistic escape plans. 

The truth is that, unless you were to drop dead on this marble flooring right now, you’re getting married. Whether you like it or not.

The doors open. 

You’ve attended red carpets, galas, award shows, and balls. You’ve had hundreds of cameras flashing in your face, the bright light capturing each and every centimeter of you. You’ve had paparazzi waiting outside the restaurants you eat at, the stores you shop at, desperate to catch a picture of you in sweatpants without a drop of makeup on. You’ve been on dates with ex-lovers that looked at you like you were a piece of meat with a credit card. And yet, for some goddamn reason, walking down the aisle in a white dress the size of Pluto, with the rest of your life waiting for you at the other end, makes you feel fucking transparent. 

Face resolute, you clutch onto your bouquet so tightly the flowers feel like they’re about to pop right out of your grasp. Determined not to look at anybody in the audience, you stare straight ahead, right into the eyes of your future husband.

Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen multiple times drunk off his ass with hickies dotting his neck and jawline, cleans up pretty well. For someone getting married, at least. He dons a simple black tuxedo that still probably costs more than the average car, his caramel brown hair is pushed back off his forehead, and his expression is firm and still. He most certainly has had an equally expensive team prepping him, but they haven’t done too bad a job. The silver lining is that he doesn’t look any more thrilled than you are to be doing this, right here, right now. But to his credit, this is definitely the best he’s ever looked, as far as you’re concerned. 

When you reach him, he offers his hand out to you, a hand that you only accept for the sake of professionalism. The bouquet in your hands is handed off to one of your bridesmaids, and the two of you take your position at the front. Your train drags along the aisle, draping over the few stairs you had to climb to reach the altar, this satin trail behind you that cements you to the floor. It may as well be a ball-and-chain. It’s about as heavy as one, anyway. 

This is the longest you and Taehyung have ever held eye contact. Not that you’re really keeping track of how long the two of you have met each other’s gazes, but if you had to make an educated guess, this would definitely be the victor. Most of the time you end up sneering at each other ten seconds in, but to be fair, those other times you were also not getting married. To one another. In a ceremony attended by hundreds of people. And cameras.

There can be no sneering here. 

“Don’t you look nice?” Taehyung whispers, loud enough so only the two of you can hear. He has that drawling, sickly sweet tone to his voice, the one that you hate because it makes him sound like he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. “Surprised they were able to makeup that scowl off your face.”

This, of course, brings on a hearty scowl only he can see, your backs both facing the rows of attendees. “How much concealer are you wearing to cover up all of the hickies on your neck?” You quip back easily. It’s not like the two of you are going to pretend he doesn’t waltz around at every club or bar or private venue he can find, looking for his next treat. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Taehyung grins, and if you weren’t standing in front of hundreds of people about to get married, there’s no telling what next you would do.

The two of you would probably go on like that for another ten minutes if it’s not for the officiant, who coughs once he’s ready and opens the book in his hands. Next to you, Taehyung straightens, hands clasped together at his front, and lips pressed into a neat line. You do the same. There will be no giggles, no laughter nor smiles, nor any genuine emotion at this wedding. This is a wedding for the sake of politics, for economics, for security, and anyone in attendance would be a fool to think otherwise. Especially you. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, loved ones, and esteemed guests,” the officiant bellows, listing off as many groups of people as he possibly can in an effort to both include and compliment every person in the audience, “We are gathered here to celebrate the wedding, and future life, of Taehyung and Y/N…”

Taehyung turns to you, grinning in that god-awful way, the way he does when he feels like he’s got something over you. And sure, you can’t think of any punishment quite as bad as this, but what’s Taehyung got to smile about? He’s marrying himself off to a woman he hates, kissing goodbye his days as a free-spirited, heartbreaking bachelor, and promising what may very well be the rest of his life to loving you. That is not cause for celebration. 

But perhaps, to him, your suffering is enough to bring a smile to his face. 

Your vows are, to put it simply, total bullshit. Your family hired someone to write yours and there’s not a doubt in your mind that his family did the same thing. This nonsense talk, this complete and utter garbage that spews from your perfectly-glossed lips, shit about how you promise to love each other until the end of your days, how you promise to take care of each other when you’re sick and accompany each other at every event, every gala, every ball. Shit about how you promise to look only at each other, promise to uphold your family traditions and become a dependable spouse. 

The words don’t belong to you. But the thing is that this marriage was never yours anyway. 

When the kiss comes, there’s a part of you that thinks maybe you should have psyched yourself up a little more for this. When Taehyung pulls you in, placing a stiff hand on your lower back as he brings you towards his chest, your stomach turns and shivers run down your spine. The feeling of his hand on your body, the breath from his lips brushing against your own, are enough to keep you frozen in place. 

He smiles at you, almost as if to ask, “Are you ready?”

And you squeeze your eyes shut, almost as if to respond, “Let’s do this.”

When his lips meet yours, there is almost nothing. Nothing runs through you, nothing explodes, nothing strikes. But when he pulls away and cheers and applause rings out throughout the room, there is something. A little heat, a remnant of a flame, left on your lips. A little sting, just to remind you it happened. 

The entire hall is cheering but nothing about this is worth celebrating. The fact of the matter is that you and Taehyung will never love each other the way that you are supposed to. 

“Ugh, finally.”

The elevator doors haven’t even properly opened by the time Taehyung is loosening his tie, tugging it off over his head as he stretches his head back and runs a hand through his perfectly-styled hair. As he rakes his fingers through his caramel locks, the hairspray and gel loosens, strands falling down by the side of his face, framing his temple.

“Don’t sound so relieved,” you huff out, deciding now is as good a time as any to start getting undressed yourself. Reaching down to lift up the hem of your reception dress, you tug off your heels, already feeling lighter on your feet. Who cares if Taehyung is watching you pull off your stilettos like a defeated movie heroine? You don’t think you can walk another step in those shoes. “We still have to live together, you know.”

“Don’t remind me,” Taehyung says gruffly, brushing by you roughly as he stomps out of the elevator. “I’m just glad the fucking night is over. I swear, seeing that fake-ass smile on your face made me want to gouge my eyes out.”

You storm after him, refusing to be the helpless damsel in this situation. “Oh, like you didn’t also have that exact same fake-ass smile on your face. It almost made me think you were actually enjoying yourself tonight.”

“I was only enjoying the fact that I know you hate this just as much as I do.” It’s perhaps the only thing you will ever be able to empathize with him on. Mutually relishing in the other’s destruction. Taehyung fumbles with the keypad to the door to the penthouse for a moment before you hear the lock click, the door sliding open as the entrance lights flicker on. 

The reason Taehyung’s penthouse is so clean is because he’s never lived here before. Neither of you have—Taehyung’s parents bought it just for the two of you. And as much as you absolutely despise the idea of having to live with him, at least it was not you who paid for your place of residence. 

You can tell Taehyung’s never lived here before because it’s actually quite nicely decorated inside. The ceilings are high and the sleek velvet curtains are pulled open, revealing a shimmering skyline. The furniture is modern and functional, and the whole damn place smells brand new. You’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of entering the place Taehyung lived in before now, and it looked nothing like this. The furniture was worn and stained despite the live-in maid, the house reeked of five hundred different spices that wafted from the kitchen to the living room, and the bookshelves were covered with comics, graphic novels, and old textbooks. 

If it weren’t for the fact that you and Taehyung are rich kids in their twenties that hate each other, you might have actually thought the place looked… homey. 

You don’t have time to be impressed by the interior design and architecture skills of whoever designed this place. Right now, all you can think about is tugging yourself out of your airtight reception dress and passing out on the nearest bed. Which, hopefully, will be as far away as possible from Taehyung’s bed of choice. 

“How many bedrooms does this place have?” You ask, shimmying along the floor so you don’t trip over the hem of your dress. From the looks of it, you can see one giant hallway to your right and a massive, double-sided staircase leading up. 

“Enough,” Taehyung grumbles in response. The hazy stupor from all of the fancy champagne is starting to wear off for the both of you, leaving behind two grouchy, begrudgingly-married individuals who want absolutely nothing to do with each other and have no problems making that known. Whatever golden light of the evening that was making Taehyung at least a little bit more attractive than usual has faded, and now you see him for what he really is: an unceremoniously tired man in a suit. “You want upstairs or down?”

You gaze up at the marble staircase in front of you, then back down at your too-long dress. “Down.” The last thing you want is to trip in front of the man you have to see, every day, for the rest of your life. 

“Fine by me.” Taehyung’s halfway up the stairs by the time he turns back around to say something else. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”

“Yeah.” There’s no point in being hostile now. The both of you are too exhausted to mean anything by it. Besides, what else can you say? Everything to complain about has already been complained about. At least the two of you managed to wrestle out from your parents the stipulation that you would not be going on a honeymoon together. Now that would have been your worst nightmare. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It’s as good of a goodnight either of you are going to get. Taehyung heads up the stairs and disappears around a corner, and you start wandering down the hallway. All the bedrooms look the exact same other than different colors on the walls and bedsheets, but they all look serviceable to you. Clean. Empty. Far away from wherever Taehyung is. 

You pick the one at the very end of the hall just to be as much of a diva as possible, and don’t even bother drawing the curtains before tugging off your dress. It’s past one in the morning, and you’re so high up you don’t think anyone will be able to see you anyway. By the time you’ve stripped naked and are tugging up the too-tight sheets tucked into the mattress, your legs are about to give out beneath you. The bed could be made of rocks for all you care. Anything to lie down on is fine by you. 

Sleep comes fairly easily to you tonight. Once your head hits the pillow you can already feel yourself drifting off, eyelids fluttering shut, but you don’t sleep quite yet. Not before you can think about how this is your life now, sleeping in a foreign bed in a foreign place with a foreign husband upstairs. This is what you will be living in now. Now and forever. 

Living with Taehyung is, in both the best and worst ways possible, like living with a roommate that doesn’t give a shit about the fact that they live with another person. It’s good, because you and Taehyung hardly see each other and speak even less, which was pretty much the only thing you were asking for when it came to living with him. But it also sucks, because whenever you do happen to cross paths, Taehyung acts like you don’t exist, barely sparing you a hello or even that tight-lipped smile you send to drivers on the road when they let you cross the street. 

Not that the two of you ever engaged in energetic conversation before you got married. But at least the two of you would acknowledge each other, even if only to shoot a glare and a scowl the other’s way from opposite sides of a hotel ballroom. Maybe it’s just because it’s him, but you did always find yourself actually relishing in those little interactions with Taehyung. In this strange, twisted way, it seemed to provide some sort of continuity to your ever-changing life. Like no matter what happened, at least you would know that the two of you would always despise each other. 

To be frank, right now you’re not sure if Taehyung even remembers he got married at all.

Nights have been a lot more sleepless since your wedding day. After two weeks, the reality of it has finally started to settle in. This is your life now. And ever since you realized that, your bed has felt much less comfortable. 

“But the place is nice, right?”

You look around the living room from where you’re sat on the sleek, white suede leather couch, eyes glossing over the bookshelves, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the draping velvet curtains. From here, you can see the entire city skyline, flecks of gold from the windows of skyscrapers against a navy blue background. Slowly, as the moon creeps over the sky and the clock gets later and later, those lights will soon begin to flicker off, one by one. 

“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Nothing to write home about. That is, if home were a place other than here. 

“That’s good. At least you don’t live in, like, a total dump or anything,” Victoria says on the other end of the line. “How’s Taehyung?”

His name alone elicits this deeply-exhausted sigh from your lips, like it’s been ten years since you married and every day has felt worse than the last. “Fine.” You can’t really complain about anything yet, considering that you hardly ever see the man. 

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 

“Yeah,” you draw out the word, as if trying to convince yourself of its truth. “I mean, it’s like he doesn’t even live here. I barely see him. And when I do, we don’t even speak to each other.”

“That’s good though, isn’t it? You hate him.” Victoria says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And in a sense, it kind of is. 

“I mean…”

“I know that your life hasn’t exactly… gone the way you had planned, but isn’t this your best case scenario when considering everything?” She asks. “If Taehyung is as distant as you say he is, isn’t it almost like you never married him in the first place?”

As if on cue, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, heels clicking on the marble as they make their way to the entrance. You whip your head around to find Taehyung, all dressed up in loose, flowy slacks and a flowery silk button-down, strolling down the staircase as he scrolls through his phone, paying you zero attention whatsoever. 

He notices you briefly when he reaches the bottom, meeting your eyes with his own. He offers this measly, unenthused half-smile your way before he grabs his wallet and some house keys from the table by the entrance, opens the door, and vanishes off into the night. 

If you hadn’t been in the living room, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he left. Not that you being present as he’s planning on leaving would have stopped him anyway. This is the sixth night he’s done this in the past two weeks. You could stand by the door and stare him down as he emerges from his bedroom, all dressed up for something you’re definitely not invited to, and he would offer you that same goddamn smile and walk out the door without even blinking. Who he was before you got married and who he is now are no different. Not even a ring could change that. 

“I guess,” you tell Victoria. At least Taehyung hasn’t turned into a helicopter husband. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wish that I didn’t have to deal with him at all.”

Wish you could turn back time. Wish you could worm your way out of an arranged marriage before it was too late. Wish you could go back to the way things used to be. 

You and Victoria talk for another couple of minutes before she regretfully has to end the call, citing both her beauty sleep and an 8AM meeting tomorrow morning as her reasons for hanging up. The moment you put the phone down, you sink back into the couch cushions, staring out the windows at the world below you.

Here’s the deal. What Taehyung does in his free time is none of your business. But also, it’s totally your business, because you are his spouse. A spouse who is an equal amount in the public eye as he is. What he does and does not do has a direct impact on what you do and do not do. 

It’s no secret that when you catch Taehyung sauntering down the stairs looking like a Gucci runway model, it’s not because he’s planning on catching a movie with a college friend and then playing video games for four hours on a couch in a basement. He is going out. To clubs, to parties, to exclusive events that he’s been invited to by his equally-rich friends, all of whom are acting like he’s the same bachelor he’s always been. 

And maybe that’s the real problem with your whole marriage—other than the glaringly obvious issue that it’s a marriage wholly unwanted by the two parties involved in it. Despite the ring on his finger, Taehyung is going out and pretending that nothing in his life has changed while you’re trapped at home, desperate to save you and your family’s reputation by keeping as low a profile as possible. You would give anything to march around the city all day, flashing middle fingers at paparazzi as you shop at your favorite high-end stores and frequent your favorite clubs. But you can’t, because your family’s fortune and influence is on the line. 

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 

It sort of makes you wonder why it was even Taehyung you ended up marrying anyway. His family isn’t any richer or more powerful than yours. Your spheres have always been sufficiently separate. What was it about him, and perhaps more importantly, his family that drew your parent’s eye? And what was it about marrying you that prevented him from saying no? Money? Prestige? Influence?

You suppose you’ll never know. But whatever mystical force that convinced Taehyung to agree to this must not be as important to him as your reasoning is to you, because it’s become exceedingly apparent that Taehyung does not care that he’s married. He doesn’t care about the ring on his finger, he doesn’t care about his public image, and he most certainly doesn’t care about you.

Perhaps you were naive for thinking this, but you actually believed marriage might tone him down a little. Might age him into a real adult with real world obligations. Instead, it’s only given you a firsthand look into who Kim Taehyung has been and always will be: a selfish rich kid.

You don’t bother waiting around in the living room until he gets back, but you are still awake by the time you hear the door creak open. Taehyung makes no efforts to hide his return. You can hear him chattering loudly on the phone as he stumbles up the stairs, can tell from his gait alone that he is most certainly wasted. You don’t want to know what he did tonight. You’ll probably be able to figure it out anyway when you wake up tomorrow morning and check your social media. 

What were you thinking, marrying him? That he would change? That he would suddenly become someone that you could rely on? You had no choice when you said, “I do,” but you were at least hoping that maybe one day, one day in a long, long time, the two of you would finally see eye to eye. Maybe there would even come a time when you would genuinely love him. How foolish. 

You close your eyes and try to imagine a world where you have married someone you love, someone who loves you back.

Not unlike the many nights preceding it, tonight is sleepless. 

Unlike your marital status and general disposition, one thing that hasn’t changed about you is your love for extravagant events. Call you conceited, but there is something so much fun about putting on a fancy, expensive dress that you love and getting your hair and makeup done before going to an exclusive gala and posing in front of five hundred cameras. 

Actually, now that you think about it, maybe your wedding could have actually been pretty good, considering it let you do all those things. It’s a real shame there happened to be a storm cloud in the form of Kim Taehyung there to ruin it. Otherwise, you think you would have rather enjoyed that day. 

Tonight is the first event since your marriage where you and Taehyung are both required to show up and act like a happy married couple. Which would probably be a lot easier if you and Taehyung had exchanged more than ten words over the past two weeks. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but there was a part of you that thought you could use your arranged marriage to actually cultivate some sort of meaningful relationship between the two of you. So events like these wouldn’t be such a drain on both of you. 

When Kim Taehyung comes down the stairs, he actually doesn’t look too bad. You don’t know why this sort of thing keeps catching you off guard—like you don’t expect him to look that good whenever you see him. The problem is that you can’t even chalk up the surprise to him wearing tailored clothes or having his hair done. He just looks… good. 

Well, you suppose you do have to look at him every day for the rest of your life. It’s a good thing he’s attractive. At least he’s not sore on the eyes. 

Taehyung and his unfortunate attractiveness aside, the two of you don’t say a word to each other as you join up at the entrance, grabbing any last-minute items like house keys, chapstick, and whatever dignity you have left to spare. You send forced smiles and tight nods each other’s way in the elevator, staring straight ahead in the lobby of your building as the car pulls up to the front door.

By the time the two of you sit down in the back of the limousine, the built-up tension between the two of you is so thick you’re almost positive that even the chauffeur can feel it through the closed partition. 

If you were any more idyllic, you’d probably spend the drive over to the gala staring out the window and imagining yourself in a different life, on a train to nowhere, flowers in your hair and a journal in your hands. Or perhaps you’d be the CEO of your family’s company instead of having that responsibility passed down to a husband you don’t even want, sitting in an office at the top of a skyscraper overlooking the city. Anything. Anything but this.

But the idyllic part of you died when you realized that fantasies like that are nothing but distractions and that daydreams are for romantics and optimists and losers. 

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

Taehyung scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘what’s our plan’?”

You frown. “Well, we’re married, so we at least have to act like it, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t standing there and smiling enough?” Taehyung asks, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. 

You bristle. Maybe that sufficed for your wedding, but there was so much going on it was easy to distract yourself from the gravity of it all. But this event is not about you. It’s not even about either of your families. It’s about someone the two of you are, at best, distantly connected to, through work, through fame, through power. Which means that though the focus will not be on you, there will still be eyes looking your way. Eyes watching your every move. 

“Do you think it will be?” You challenge. Doesn’t Taehyung realize that things are different now?

Taehyung’s lips curl downwards. “What do you expect us to do, shower each other in kisses? We don’t even sleep on the same fucking floor.”

“Maybe I just expected you to act less like a stranger and more like a husband!”

Taehyung sighs. “Don’t.” The word is clipped, short. “Don’t tell me you actually want to be married.”

“I don’t.” It’s a response that you hardly have to think twice about. “But we are, and nothing can change that.” Unfortunately. But it’s a fact that you and Taehyung have both had to grapple with over the past few weeks, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you are more aware of it than he is. If Taehyung could have his way, he would ignore you for the rest of his life and keep partying with the rest of his bachelor friends until he keeled over and died. 

He huffs next to you, eyes staring straight ahead. You don’t think the two of you have met each other’s eyes in a week. Maybe more. They’re starting to feel as soulless as your marriage itself. “Whatever. What do you want me to do?”

“What do you think?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Just act like you don’t hate me. Can you do that?” The way Taehyung’s behaving right now, you expect that will be a challenge for the both of you.

“Only if you can. I’ll even hold your hand to prove that we love each other.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The idea of holding Taehyung’s hand makes you want to implode. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. But it’s better than nothing, and that’s good enough for you. At least you won’t have to kiss. 

The rest of the ride there is silent. You drive to this gorgeous mansion just outside the city, bathed in lights hidden amongst the bushes, illuminating both the architecture and the enormous fountain that sits in front of it. In a house this size, you imagine you could probably go your whole life without ever having to come across Taehyung. It actually makes you consider investing in a home that big. 

Taehyung helps you out of the back of the limousine, a cold hand clasping your own as you rest your palm against his. You can feel the way his fingers hesitate as yours make to intertwine with his as you walk towards the entrance, smiling at whatever camera flashes you encounter on your way. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were holding hands with a ghost. 

The moment you step inside and are ushered out of the door’s view, Taehyung’s grip relaxes on yours. For a moment, you think he’ll actually spend the rest of the night like this, a gentle hand wrapped around yours, but then he pulls it away entirely and shoves it back into his pocket. Oh. You frown quietly to yourself. So that’s how tonight’s going to go. 

You don’t make an effort to reach out towards him again. 

For an event concerning people you don’t know a damn thing about, everyone sure seems to know things about you. Other than greetings, you don’t think anyone’s said anything to you about anything other than your recent marriage to Taehyung. Every conversation is punctuated by a Congratulations! you do not feel that you have at all earned, considering you and Taehyung could barely look at each other on the way here.

Maybe Taehyung was right. All you really can do is stand there and smile.

“Oh, don’t tell me… Y/N, is that you?”

The champagne swirls around in the flute between your fingers as you turn towards the sound of your name, looking up to see a familiar face headed your way. 

Kim Seokjin is nice enough. He’s terribly handsome and got a flawless smile, but you know better than to trust those pearly whites of his. The sight of him alone is enough to make your body tense up. There was a reason you had explicitly told your parents not to invite him to your wedding. 

“Seokjin, what a surprise to see you here,” you say, forcing a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be in Switzerland right now.”

“Change of plans,” Seokjin grins back in that awful, awful way, the kind of grin that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you. “I came back early. It’s a shame, though, I missed your wedding.”

You shrug. “It was a humble affair.” It wasn’t. And you’re positive that Seokjin knows it wasn’t an accident that you didn’t extend an invitation to him or his family. 

“Ah, I see,” Seokjin says, nodding his head. He turns to Taehyung next to you, who is making no effort to hide how wholly uninterested in this conversation he is, and holds out a hand. “You must be Kim Taehyung, then. I’m Kim Seokjin. Congratulations on your wedding.”

Taehyung shakes his hand firmly, the air between the three of you growing unbearably palpable. 

“Seokjin’s father is the VP of News Daily,” You explain, eyebrows raised as you try to signal to Taehyung what exactly it means when Seokjin is speaking to the two of you. “And his mother is a popular journalist for the city’s post.”

Seokjin grew up in the world of media, and it seems he’s picked up his parent’s affinity for sticking their noses in places they don’t belong. You know he’s not talking to the both of you out of the goodness of his heart. 

Seokjin laughs, his hand waving away the mention of his parents. “Oh, please. That’s them. I’m just a bored socialite like the rest of you.”

You resist the urge to scoff. 

“Marriage treating the two of you well?” He changes the subject to what he really wants to talk about: you. 

“Of course,” you say quickly, preventing any hesitation on your end. Your empty hand reaches towards Taehyung’s, fingers searching for his between the two of you. But his refusal to join hands does not go unnoticed by you nor Seokjin, who is eyeing the space between your bodies with an eyebrow raised. “It’s just been—well, it’s just been difficult to adjust to a new life. That’s all.”

If you were to describe the face of a non-believer, it would be the exact expression on Seokjin’s face. “Perfectly understandable,” he says, that same toothy smile lacing his features. “But it must be nice, you know, to marry someone you love.”

“I couldn’t be happier,” you say, almost challenging Seokjin to say something even more inflammatory. He must know that all you’re trying to do at this point is save face. Love? Ha! As if. 

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 

You can feel the way Taehyung is stiffening beside you. “I suppose we are both lucky and unlucky in many ways when it comes to who we love.”

It’s enough of an answer to get Seokjin off your tail. For now. He bids the two of you a tense goodbye before sauntering off to go poke his nose in someone else’s business, fish for drama, a thread of a rumor he can pick apart with nimble fingers. You wonder if anybody actually likes him. 

The moment he disappears from earshot, you grab Taehyung’s wrist tightly and pull him close to you. “What the hell was that?” You hiss into his ear. 

“What?” You can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he really is that dense. 

“You!” You exclaim. “Kim Seokjin is the one person who could easily expose how fake this marriage is and you pull away from me? Right in front of him? You can’t even hold my hand for two seconds, that’s how much you hate me?”

“Who cares what he thinks?” Taehyung says. “He’s just another media rat. No one will even remember we were here tomorrow.”

“But if you keep acting like this, people will start to notice! Why can’t you just act like you don’t hate me, for one night? Is that so bad? Is it that torturous, to spend one night with me?”

“Do not turn this on me,” Taehyung orders harshly. “You’re making a scene. Come on.”

You don’t have time to shout at him for bossing you around like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum before he drags you out of the venue, the two of you finding a back door to the building that leads outside. The cold air blows against your body, goosebumps popping up against your skin, but you find that the chilly night provides quite the respite after practically overheating indoors. Taehyung makes fire rush through your veins but at least the air can cool you back down. 

Nevertheless, your conversation is not over. It’s just been moved to a more private location.

“You do realize that our marriage isn’t going to suddenly go away, right? That we’re going to have to keep doing this for the rest of our lives?” You remind him, eyebrows raised. There’s a part of you that genuinely thinks he’s completely forgotten that your marriage is permanent.

“Oh, and not holding hands for five minutes for this one event is totally going to change the course of our lives, isn’t it?” Taehyung fights back.

“Don’t act like you did the right thing,” you spit out. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me. I know you don’t give a shit about our marriage.”

“What marriage is there to even give a shit about? Just because we had a wedding and signed some documents does not mean there is a real marriage between us. Look at us,” he motions between the two of you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We hate each other. Is this what you would call marriage?”

“But at least I’m trying to get past that!” You exclaim. “You make it seem like being as miserable as possible is some sort of badge of honor. Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life hating the person you married? Or do you want to grow up and try and move on?”

Taehyung frowns. “What I want is for the person I married to stop acting like they’re doing me such a huge favor by pretending to care about us. Especially when all they really care about is their family’s goddamn reputation.”

“No,” you tell him sternly. You are doing him a favor. He just can’t admit that he actually needs help from you. “You are putting zero effort into this. What am I supposed to do?”

“Let it go!” Taehyung shouts. “Maybe one day we’ll actually start getting along, but right now it’s obvious that neither one of us can stand the other. I don’t need you to do favors for me. I can handle it myself.”

You look away, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” you mutter to yourself. 

Taehyung cracks. “Fine. You want me to pretend that I actually care about us? I will.” Thank God. Maybe now the two of you will finally start seeing eye-to-eye. “But make no mistake about how I feel about you,” he spits. “Getting married to you ruined my life.”

You stare straight at him and his eyes are swirling, so obscured in the darkness of the night that you might even think he doesn’t have a soul at all. His pupils bore into yours and for once, for once in your goddamn life, after so many years of staring each other down at debutante balls, so many years of witty refrains and snarky insults hurled each other’s way, it feels like the two of you might actually snap. 

Then, a camera flashes.

Trouble in Paradise! would be a suitable title for the front page of the city’s biggest tabloid… if anything about your life with Taehyung could be considered paradise. Unfortunately for the both of you, that is not the case. 

You don’t need to keep reading the rest of the trashy article on the front page of the daily tabloid to know how much trouble you’re in, nor do you even have time to scroll beneath the terrible photo of you and Taehyung literally shouting at each other before you hear your phone ring. 

You don’t even bother saying hello to whoever’s on the other end. You know it’ll go in one ear and out the other. 

“I assume you know why I’m calling,” your mother’s harsh tone spits from the other end of the phone. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s standing in the middle of her office, snapping her fingers at her fifteen secretaries as they partake in the worst damage control your family’s had to deal with since your cousin two years ago was caught with a mistress outside a high-profile restaurant. 

“Can I take a wild guess?” You’re about to be scolded into the next century, so you might as well enjoy your last few moments. 

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” your mother warns. “Care to explain why you and your beloved husband made the front page of the Daily Post today?”

“I know,” you sigh, a hand coming up to rub at your temples. It’s eight in the morning, you’ve barely looked at your phone, and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. It feels like you’re still asleep, and most certainly lack the energy to deal with this right now. 

Your mother, on the other hand, thinks otherwise. “You know? You know, and you still go out and do this? For everyone to see?”

“We tried to take our argument outside,” you begin to explain, but your mother isn’t having a single word of it. 

“The fact that you thought it was even appropriate to have an argument in a public setting at all astounds me, Y/N. We raised you better than that.” There’s no need for you to even see her face. You’ve grown so used to that disappointed frown over the years that it’s burned into your brain. 

“Maybe you should have thought about that before marrying me off to a man I barely know so I could be someone else’s problem instead of yours,” you bite. 

“We did this for your own good,” she hisses back. “You are married because we love you, and we want you to succeed outside of this family.”

“Then why do you care what the tabloids print about me?”

“Because being married does not mean you are no longer a part of this family,” your mother informs you sternly, lips smacking together. “Your marriage reflects on all of us, and you know that. What will people think of us when they see how terribly behaved you are?”

“Everyone acts like that, and you know it.” How could your mother preach good behavior when everyone, everyone you know, is just as spoiled and entitled as you? There’s no such thing as being altruistic when it comes to people like you. Being genuine, and good, and pure—that will get you ruined. 

You can hear her breathing into the phone when your mother responds, “But not in public, and that is the point. We expect better from you.”

“If you were so worried about me behaving so badly, then why did you even marry me off anyway? You knew that I didn’t want to. What did you think would happen?” It’s a question you wouldn’t have dared ask three months ago. Hell, even a year ago, when it was first revealed you were to be engaged, you wouldn’t have dared open your lips. But things are different now. You’re married to a man that hates you just as much as you hate him. He is making no effort to improve your relationship and seems hellbent on despising you forever. There is no way to get out of it. And if your parents really foresaw all of that, then what was the point in the first place?

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts. 

“You know she wanted to see you married before she passed,” your mother says, words clipped and biting and harsh. “She cares about you. She wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you mutter to yourself like a petulant child. In a way, you sort of are.

“If you want to stay in her will, I suggest you change that mindset.”

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

“Is that a threat?” You ask, positively dumbfounded. Are you being coerced into staying in this marriage because of your grandmother’s will?

You can hear your mother laugh, that muted, knowing chuckle of hers. “It was the deal all along, remember?”

Vaguely, you do. You remember fighting your parents tooth and nail over getting married until your grandmother revealed it was her dream to see you wed. You remember the look on her old, wrinkled face, that soft, sad smile that said she knew she didn’t have much time left. You remember agreeing, because how could you deny her? You remember her promising to remember what you’re doing for her. 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

“That’s the end of this conversation, Y/N. You fix things with your husband or you’re out of her will. She’s made that clear. I expect you’ll make the right choice.”

She hangs up. 

Well. 

There are a lot of ways to describe how you’re currently feeling, and you most certainly had an expensive education that would provide you with plenty of the vocabulary, but you think the most appropriate words for the current situation would be: you’re fucked. 

At least the feeling is mutual. 

Hardly two minutes after your mother’s brutal phone call, Taehyung comes storming down the stairs, hair still mussed from the night prior, his own phone clenched tightly between is fingers. Even from where you stand in the middle of the living room, you can see the way his eyes are glinting with anger, the veins popping out from his skin. 

“I just got off the phone with my parents,” Taehyung begins, not even bothering to spare a ‘good morning’ your way, “and they are fucking furious about last night.”

You shrug. “Join the club,” you mutter, arms crossed in front of you. What, does Taehyung really think you got off scot-free?

“Don’t act like this means nothing to you,” Taehyung says as he approaches you, footsteps calm despite his demeanor being anything but. “You’re the one who’s so obsessed with keeping up their family’s perfect reputation. You’re the reason we’re even in this mess in the first place.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m the reason’?” You ask, astounded. Like he’s totally absolved of all blame and just an innocent third party. “You are the reason we went outside. You are the reason we had that argument, because you refuse to accept the fact that we’re actually married and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Right, because holding hands is really gonna show all those people how in love we are. I bet your parents are so thrilled right now.” Taehyung drawls. 

“It’s a start!” You shriek. “God, you’re just so—so infuriating! You can’t accept that this was your fault, too. You just have to turn everything against me and you always, always have to get the last word. It’s like you think you’ll die if you don’t.”

“Like you’re any better,” Taehyung huffs back. “You think I’m the villain because I don’t want to pretend to be in love with someone I’m not in love with. You act like us not holding hands is going to ruin our lives. It was one event! One! It’s obvious we hate each other, so why even try?”

“What, do you expect me to just sit around and do nothing? To act like everything’s fine? Like I’m happy?” As if. This marriage is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. “While you prance around the city with your rich boy friends, going out to clubs and parties and pretending that I don’t exist? Is that what you expect from me?”

Taehyung laughs, this loud, disbelieving sort of noise, like he’s never heard such nonsense before. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean the rest of my life has to change. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself with my friends? Or are you determined to keep me chained to your side for the rest of our lives?”

“What I want,” you punctuate every word, “is for you to stop acting like you haven’t got stakes in this, too. You think I don’t know how your family works? What being married to me means for you? Because I do. And I know that if we were to divorce, it would be you who would get the short end of the stick. Make no mistake.”

That’s enough to shut Taehyung up for a good few seconds. And it shuts him up, because he knows it’s true. Taehyung’s family may have a little more money, a little more power than yours, but you’ve got a family intimately more connected with the media. One phone call and Taehyung may have a rather messy, rather public breakup to deal with. 

“You wouldn’t,” he says, calling your bluff. 

“Are you sure about that?” You say, sticking your ground. You would never really divorce him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I am,” Taehyung says firmly. “Don’t think I don’t know what being married to me is in it for you. What is it? Money? Power? Your father’s CEO position?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap quickly. Maybe you’re more transparent than you thought. Bristling, you straighten your shoulders and turn back to meet his eyes. “Regardless, it seems we both have a reason to stay in this marriage.”

“It seems we do,” Taehyung agrees with a thin, contained smile. “Then I suppose we can reach some sort of agreement.”

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 

“I’ll stop going out with my friends if you stop picking fights with me all the time,” he says economically, like he’s killing two birds with one stone. 

“Only if you agree to also act more like my husband when we’re in public,” you tack on, because you just can’t settle for anything less. 

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 

You scoff. “Like I’d even want to pretend to be your wife when we’re in private.”

“Good. It seems we’ve come to a deal.”

“What’s in this for you, huh?” You prod, just to be annoying. Taehyung’s right. There’s a reason you’re not divorcing him the second you get the chance. But there must be a reason why he’s not doing the same thing. 

“Does it matter?” He challenges, a single eyebrow raised. “My life is just as awful as yours.”

Fair enough. 

“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung asks, holding out his hand, that sneaky, devilish grin lacing his features. 

Taking his hand in yours and grasping it firmly is the easiest decision in the world. His palm presses against your own, hot hand meeting your cold skin, and it feels like the two of you are finally finding some sort of balance. You look up into his eyes, burn your gaze into his pupils, watch them glint in the white ceiling light of the living room. 

“Deal.”

For two people raised on the values of reading the fine print and making educated choices when it comes to business deals, you and Taehyung sure haven’t worked out any of the intricacies of the deal the two of you agreed to. Unlike those business deals your parents constantly agreed to, however, knowing all of the stipulations and provisions of your strange, strange agreement with Taehyung may prove more harmful than helpful. 

Like right now. 

“Wait, we don’t have to be by each other’s side the whole night, do we?” Taehyung asks you, eyebrows furrowed in a knot, as you sit in the back of a big, black van on your way to a mutual friend’s twenty-first birthday bash. 

“There are going to be a lot of cameras there,” you respond. 

“Yeah, outside the entrance to the damn club. You know they won’t be allowed in, so who cares?” Taehyung rebukes. 

You huff out a little sigh, not wanting to get into an argument when you’re literally minutes away from your first public appearance since the whole tabloid debacle from three weeks ago. You and Taehyung could both do with being a bit more relaxed than you normally are when you’re around each other. 

“Hasn’t Clarissa invited hundreds of people? They’ll all notice if we aren’t together,” you remind pointedly. The girl whose birthday party you are attending is an heiress who grew up on the money of two people with a monopoly over the current artificial intelligence market and has millions of followers on social media. There will be notable people there. And people will know the two of you, as well. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “That’s the point, Y/N. There’ll be so many people, no one will even care. It’s her twenty-first birthday. Do you think people are going to be sober?”

You purse your lips together. He’s got a point. “How about when we are together, we hold hands. But if you see a friend or something then feel free to say hi.” Taehyung can be afforded that luxury. Especially because the chances of him not bumping into someone he knows is exceedingly low anyway. 

Taehyung nods in agreement. “You too. But I won’t leave you unless I know you’re with someone you’re close with.”

“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” you say with a small chuckle. What, is Taehyung suddenly worried, or something?

“Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I left you with someone you didn’t know well. Or alone. Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” He shrugs nonchalantly, turning back to look out of the window on his side of the car. 

“Okay.” 

You don’t really have anything else to say to that. You’re sure you can handle yourself if you’re left alone for a few minutes while Taehyung says hi, but you actually find yourself rather appreciative of his resolve to look after you. Or, at least, make sure someone else is looking after you. It’s quite… chivalrous. Strikingly out of character for the Taehyung you’ve become well-acquainted with over the past couple of months. 

By the time you arrive, it’s obvious that Taehyung was right about there being so many people you two practically don’t even exist. Other than the herds of camera crews waiting outside the joint, photographing everyone that steps out of a black car to see what they’re wearing and who they’ve come with, no one seems to be paying you any attention. And in a way, that sort of nonexistence, that anonymity, it’s refreshing. Your entire life you’ve felt like all eyes were on you, like there was constantly a spotlight above your head, but here, the party centers around someone else. 

Despite that fact, Taehyung keeps his promise. He keeps himself pressed closely against you when there’s not enough space for you two to stand side by side, and he makes sure to have a hand gently intertwined with your own as you weave your way through the dozens of bodies in the room. He doesn’t say anything, of course, always looking up and forward instead of beside him, where you stand, but you find that you’re actually quite relaxed with his presence. He spots a bit of a clearing near the back of the first floor of the club, where a whole bunch of leather couches are pressed up against the brick walls, where the two of you can take a breather. 

“Damn, Clarissa knows a lot of people,” you say when you finally settle down, happily plucking a martini from a tray held by one of the many caterers wandering through the venue. 

“I doubt she’s even spoken to half of them,” Taehyung comments. “She and I have maybe spoken once… three years ago.”

“It was enough to get you invited, wasn’t it?” You point out with an eyebrow raised. 

Taehyung nods, chuckling a little. “Touché,” he says, clinking his own cocktail glass against yours. 

You take a swig of the drink, letting it wash down your throat. You’re not exactly sure how else you’re supposed to survive the night. “You must enjoy this, huh?” You muse, looking up at Taehyung from where you’re seated on the couch. He’s standing next to you, looking around the room with a distant gaze in his eye. 

“Enjoy what? The drink? It’s nice,” Taehyung says, having another sip. 

“No, I mean this,” you say, motioning toward the crowd. “The clubbing, the dancing, the drinking. I’ll bet that if you could do this every day for the rest of your life, you would.”

“I’m honored that you think so highly of me,” he deadpans. 

“Just making an observation,” you say, holding your hand up in surrender. “I mean, isn’t this what you used to do every weekend before we got married? Get wasted and party? Wake up in someone else’s bed the next morning? Muscle your way through the week just so you could do it all over again?”

Taehyung shakes his head, a knowing grin on his face. “Looks like someone keeps up with her tabloids. Let me guess, you would scroll through all of those trashy articles on your phone whenever you woke up so you could see what your future husband was doing?”

“I could have never even met you and I would know that that’s exactly what you do,” you say, even though you definitely did do those things before your engagement was announced to the public. “You’re a heartbreaker, Kim Taehyung. I don’t need to read a tabloid to know that.”

“Well, you must be quite the lucky girl, then,” Taehyung comments. “You seem to be taking up so much of my energy that I don’t have the time for that anymore.”

You place a sarcastic hand on your heart. “I didn’t know you were always thinking about me. I’m touched.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Taehyung huffs out, making the two of you both shake your heads as you chuckle to yourselves. First civil conversation you’ve had with each other in a long while, even if there may have been a few blows exchanged. 

The privacy doesn’t last long. Soon after, a huge crowd of people that could honestly still pass for teenagers herds towards the back of the club, all of them wanting to take pictures with each other. You and Taehyung do your best to stay out of the way, but one of the girls recognizes him from the Elle photoshoot he did about a year ago and begins to strike up a conversation with the both of you about your recent marriage. If she was paying attention to anything the tabloids leaked three weeks ago, she doesn’t mention it. Taehyung smiles and happily answers all of her questions, and even offers to take a picture of the group for them. The conversation ends before the two of you even catch her name. 

You’re standing by the line of buffet tables laid out against the staircase leading up to the second floor, no doubt as crowded as this one, when the opportunity for you to speak to someone other than Taehyung finally presents itself. 

“Y/N!”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around to see Victoria barreling towards the both of you, not even caring when she accidentally spills a bit of her piña colada on the floor as she does. 

“Hey!” You exclaim excitedly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure Clarissa invited everyone on her, her best friend’s, her best friend’s cousin, and her best friend’s cousin’s dog’s contact list,” Victoria says with a laugh. “It’s nice to see you. I feel like you’ve been holed up in that big ol’ penthouse for weeks.”

“Damage control,” you remind her succinctly. Victoria knows enough that that’s all the explanation she really needs. 

“I don’t know if the two of you have ever met formally,” you say, thinking back to your wedding, where Victoria spent most of her time schmoozing with your parents (who love her) and didn’t even engage with any of the people who Taehyung’s family had invited. “Taehyung, this is Victoria. Victoria, Taehyung.”

“Pleasure,” Victoria says in that loud, unabashedly forward way of hers, holding out a friendly hand. Taehyung smiles back curtly, taking her hand and shaking it gently, so as not to spill any more of her drink. 

“Mine as well. I remember you were at our wedding.” Oh? So he does know her?

“That I was. Oh, I miss that day. The food was excellent. Tonight’s isn’t too bad either. Hope you’re doing well, the two of you. It’s nice to see you getting along,” she says, always the observer. 

Taehyung’s eyes widen a little when he picks up what Victoria is not-so-subtly putting down, but you place a hand on his upper arm to calm him. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “She won’t say anything.”

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 

“If you wanna go spend time with some of your friends, you can,” you say, giving Taehyung a nudge. He looks positively helpless standing in between the two of you as Victoria out-extroverts him. 

“Alright,” he says hesitantly, even though you know he’s already spotted at least ten people you’re sure he’d want to spend time with over you. “I’ll come find you soon, okay? Don’t go too far.”

You nod, and Taehyung disappears off into the crowd. Not two seconds later, you hear someone else call his name in a familiar tone. 

“I thought you said you hated him,” Victoria points out as the two of you watch his caramel brown hair makes its way throughout the crowd. 

You take another sip of your drink. “I do,” you say. 

Victoria looks at you like you’ve just told her you’ve sworn off custard-filled doughnuts. 

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 

“Nothing,” Victoria singsongs. “It just doesn’t look like that to me.”

“We just need to keep up a good appearance in public, that’s all. You know how mad my parents got when the tabloids leaked all that shit a few weeks ago,” you explain. You’re not sure what all the fuss is about. Taehyung said he would do these things. And he did. That was him upholding his end of the deal. This is you upholding yours. 

“If you say so…” Victoria says, not looking at all convinced. “I guess I’m just surprised that—that you two seem to be getting along so well. Maybe you being married isn’t going to be the worst thing after all.”

You stare back out into the crowd, scanning the top of people’s heads for Taehyung’s familiar locks. In the dim light of the club, you have a difficult time finding his, squinting your eyes slightly as you look around, but eventually you spot him, dancing happily with some old friends of his you recognize. He looks like he’s having a good time. And that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might end up alright. 

“Yeah,” you say, though with the pounding of the bass and the alcohol already rushing through your veins, it doesn’t really feel like your voice belongs to you. You look back at Taehyung, knowing exactly where he is now, and you smile. Just a little. “I guess he’s not so bad.”

You never do get a chance to meet Taehyung’s friends that night. By the time he joins back up with you and Victoria he’s by himself, a little more drunk than when he left, and ready to go home. And for once, instead of fighting him, instead of insisting you stay an hour more just to make sure you’ve done all of your rounds, you let him take you home. 

Taehyung has been spending a lot more time at the penthouse lately. Perhaps his family’s business happenings are slow, or perhaps he’s actually starting to get more comfortable with inhabiting the same space as you, but he has definitely found himself quite the rhythm in that house of yours. He even comes down to the first floor rather regularly. 

When he’s home, Taehyung is a lot quieter than you thought he would be. Granted, you don’t exactly know what you were expecting in the first place, but it certainly wasn’t him ruminating in one of the home offices while the Beatles play softly on the stereo, nor was it him reading a book in French in one of those big old grandfather chairs in the living room. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably think he was still absent in that old way of his, ghostlike and silent, like he was occupying the space instead of truly living in it. 

But you do know better, and even though Taehyung is just as noiseless as he used to be, the house already feels a little bit fuller. 

Perhaps the reason you’ve become so keenly aware of his presence over the past few days is because of the notable fact that Taehyung has indeed held up his end of the deal, and no longer goes out with his friends in the evening. Or at all, for that matter. Which strikes you as rather odd, because he’s the epitome of a social butterfly, a thousand contacts in his phone and a whole group of friends he regularly spends time with. Maybe his parents told him to tone down the public appearances, too. And that’s understandable, but don’t they know Taehyung? Can’t they see how much he thrives on social interaction? It almost makes you feel… bad for him. 

To remedy this, you suggest he invite over his friends. Just for a few hours, you swear you won’t mind. 

“Seriously?” Taehyung looks positively shocked when you tell him he can, standing in the doorway of the office he seems to have designated as his own. 

“Yeah, why not?” You say with a carefree shrug. Besides, you’ve never met his friends anyway, and now seems as good a chance as any to introduce yourself. You are his wife, after all. “Unless your parents say you can’t. But it’s not a problem for me.”

“You… don’t mind if I have my friends over for a bit? Honest to God, we’re probably just going to play FIFA for three hours straight,” Taehyung says like it’s some sort of warning. Like the idea of him and his buddies from college are going to sit in the living room screaming at the television, leaving you alone to do literally anything else, is somehow bad. 

You laugh. “It’s fine, really. Call them. I’d actually quite like to meet them.”

Taehyung picks up his phone almost instantly, as if you’ll change your mind in the next five minutes so he better get them over soon, and already you can see the way his face is lighting up, the way his eyes crinkle as he chats to his friends and the way his lips curl upwards when they crack a joke back. Isn’t it obvious? He feeds off of the energy of others. Who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

As it turns out, Taehyung’s friends actually end up being quite nice anyway. 

He invites over three, because four people is apparently the perfect number for a hardcore game of FIFA on his Playstation, and they are all very handsome men you have never met before. You suppose like attracts like, after all. 

“You must be Y/N,” says the first one you see when you open the door to let them in. He doesn’t look a day over twenty-one—in fact, he could probably still pass as a college student—and has rather long dark hair that drapes over the sides of his face, covering the edges of his big doe eyes. “I’m Jungkook. This is Jimin and Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you all,” you say, stepping aside so they can enter.

The shortest one, Jimin, grins in response, and Hoseok, behind him, gives you a wave. It’s refreshing enough as is, not having to exchange formal greetings and shake each other’s hands like you do with everyone else. Hoseok even gives you a bit of a nod, too.“You, too,” he says. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 

“All good things, I hope,” you say awkwardly, forcing a small smile as Taehyung comes bounding into the room, ears perked up at the sound of his friends’ voices. 

“Definitely. Thanks for having us over. We didn’t wanna intrude on the sanctity of your new place,” Jungkook says, gesturing vaguely to the house as a whole. He’s got this excellent, genuine grin on his face, the kind that people who are just happy to be alive always wear. 

Already he’s said enough to charm the shit out of you. Who knew Taehyung’s friends could be so… friendly? “Please, you’re welcome any time. I was just thinking Taehyung was getting a little lonely.”

“There he is!” Jimin shouts excitedly when he spots Taehyung behind the two of you, looking a lot more casual than he normally does when he’s alone with you, having abandoned his usual silky button-down and wide-leg slacks for a loose shirt and some sweatpants. You didn’t even know he had those things in his closet. 

“Hey, everyone’s here!” Taehyung exclaims, just as happy. He squeezes past you to give the three of them a big hug, and it almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in. Even though this is literally your house. 

“Nice place you got here,” Hoseok comments, eyes drifting around the living room. “Very minimalist, I like it.”

“Sure hope you don’t spill anything on those nice leather couches of yours,” Jungkook says. 

“Yeah, unlike Kook, who has spilled tomato soup on every shirt he’s ever owned,” Jimin jokes, earning laughs from Taehyung and Hoseok and a punch from Jungkook. 

“Moved after we married,” Taehyung says simply, shrugging his shoulders. It’s an easy enough explanation for why it doesn’t look at all lived in. Here’s hoping none of them realize you sleep in different bedrooms. 

“Yeah, congratulations on that, man,” Hoseok says, giving Taehyung a celebratory nudge in the shoulder. “Who’d have thought, out of the four of us, Kim Taehyung would be the first one to settle down.”

The way Taehyung’s body tenses up at that comment does not go unnoticed by you. 

“Seriously, I would have never guessed,” Jimin adds on. “You’re showing us a new side of yourself, Tae. But I’m happy for you.”

Normally, you’d probably take offense at such blatant insinuations that your husband was a former playboy, especially from his equally noncommittal friends. But truthfully, it’s not like you were blind to Taehyung’s transgressions either. And what matters most is the fact that since it was announced publicly, you are the only woman he’s been seen with since your engagement. 

“Me too. You seem to really like her. I’m glad,” Jungkook pipes up, sending a smile your way. You definitely feel like you don’t belong in this conversation. “I think the two of you will be good for each other.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Taehyung says with a nervous chuckle. His eyes quickly shoot your way, the two of you meeting gazes, your hesitant expressions matching. At least the two of you are on the same page. “Alright, alright, enough,” Jungkook says. “Who’s ready to get their ass kicked in FIFA?”

“You’re on, Jeon. But when I win, you owe me a five-star dinner,” Hoseok challenges. 

“Deal.”

Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately crowd towards the couch, and you take that as your cue to leave. But before you can disappear down the hallway, you and Taehyung look awkwardly at each other, hands tied. It’s not like you can say anything to them. 

The truth is that, sometimes, it’s easy to forget that not everyone else knows that your marriage is just for business. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are still people out there that believe you marry for love. 

Isn’t it crazy to think that you used to be one of those people, too?

“Hey,” Taehyung says when you meet up at the bottom of the stairs again. 

“Hey,” you respond. 

“You look nice.”

You scoff a little to yourself. What, are you exchanging compliments now? “Thanks,” you say, looking him up and down. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Like he ever is. 

“I knew you had taste,” Taehyung teases, and it’s the sort of comment that would have earned him a melon ball to the face back when the two of you were teenagers at a debutante ball, but today only earns him a roll of your eyes as you join hands. You don’t have anything big tonight—just a small dinner to celebrate some sort of business accomplishment for your family, which means that all you have to manage is not ending up in some sort of food fight by the end of the night. 

“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” You retort easily as you get into the car. 

You don’t normally speak a lot on the way to events. Not that you ever did, but even as your relationship has slowly faded from pure hatred to attempts at compromise, you both seem to relish in being able to stare out of your respective backseat windows and into the city that surrounds you. Just out of curiosity, about halfway through the ride you look towards Taehyung to see what he’s up to, and find yourself genuinely surprised to see him leaning against the window with his eyes closed. Is he sleeping? A couple more minutes of gazing at him tells you he is, because his body has gone lax and his breathing has evened out, soft snores leaving his mouth. This ride can’t be longer than twenty minutes. Has he not been sleeping well? Up in that enormous second-floor bedroom of his?

He’s awake by the time the car parks outside the restaurant, this fancy name brand steak place that was chosen solely because the biggest beneficiaries of your family’s new business deal are two sixty-year-old men whose entire diet consists of beef and beer. No cameras tonight, just a small family affair. You and Taehyung hold hands as you enter the restaurant and are led to the private room in the back anyway. 

You and him are seated on the far end of the long, rectangular table, alongside all of the other adult children dragged along to celebrate something that has no effect on their lives. But it’s nice, because the space alone prevents your parents from actively speaking with you, and you and Taehyung can stay in your own little bubble, only chiming in for a toast when necessary. 

“What are you going to get?” He asks you, the two of you gazing at the menu. No matter how fancy this place is, all the options seem to boil down to steak, steak, steak, steak, and caesar salad. Classic. 

“Oh, so you actually care now?” You counter, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

Taehyung laughs. “Aren’t I supposed to?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, wise to his usual shenanigans. It’s hard to tell if Taehyung really means what he says, or if it’s all for show. But perhaps he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious, since no one else seems to be paying you any attention. 

“The choices on this menu are simply overwhelming,” you say, motioning to the six options in front of you. 

“I know, I’m so torn,” Taehyung jokes, making you huff out a little giggle. At least he’s still got that same sense of humor. 

You both end up going for a pretty classic steak dinner, which neither of the two of you finish because the damn portions are the size of your head. Dinner is, in and of itself, absolutely mindless, all of your parents talking about things that don’t concern you whatsoever, leaving you and Taehyung to your own devices as you desperately try to make the night go by faster. 

At one point, you notice Taehyung’s foot brushing up against yours, the leather of his loafers brushing against the toe of your patent heel. Thinking someone of it, you push back, foot nudging his back to his own chair. It’s not a second later that Taehyung retaliates, the two of you dancing around each other underneath the table. 

If the two of you were any younger, or perhaps any less resigned to your fate, there’s no doubt in your mind you would be attempting to get Taehyung to fall off his chair in an effort to do the same to you. Footsie means war. But when the both of you know that, at the end of the day, you’ll still be going home to the same place, and waking up the next morning in the same house, it doesn’t feel like this is a battle.

It’s just life. 

Eventually, you meet Taehyung’s eyes with a hesitant smile, shoe pressed against his, stuck in ceasefire. And for once, he doesn’t have that devilish look in his eye, that smug little grin on his face that tells you that he’s going to make you regret whatever it is you just did. He’s just smiling back at you, all pink lips, having found real fun in the little things. 

And that makes you happy. 

The rest of the dinner is uneventful, which, in your book, is about as good as a dinner can go. You cheers to the future of your parents’ relationship with their newfound partners and say a quick goodbye to them both, hurrying out of there before they can ask you any questions on your relationship with your husband. But you don’t spend the car ride in silence on the way back. 

Instead, you say, “Have you been sleeping well?”

The question seems to catch Taehyung off guard. He was already getting in position to take a power nap on the ride home, head pressed up against the window of the car. 

“What?”

“Have you been sleeping well?” You repeat. “I noticed you fell asleep on the way here.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” he says, a hand scratching the nape of his neck. “I mean, it’s been hard adjusting, I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”

Hard adjusting? You’ve been together for nearly three months now. Three months worth of sleeping in the same penthouse bedroom, on the same soft-as-a-cloud mattress, underneath the same weighted blanket. And he’s still having trouble? 

“Oh. I mean, I just wanted to ask because you seem really tired lately.”

“I got a lot on my plate, what can I say,” Taehyung says with an empty smile, forcing a chuckle. “I’ll be fine, seriously. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Isn’t that my job?” You remind him. “I am your wife.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything to that. He just lets out an audible breath, the kind you let out when you’re amused and have something snarky to say, but don’t have the energy to get the words off your tongue. 

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 

When you get home, you place your house keys in the bowl by the entrance and take off your shoes, just about ready to take a hot shower and collapse in bed, when Taehyung’s voice stops you. 

“Hey,” he begins, almost hesitantly. You look back at him inquisitively. “I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could start sleeping in the same bed?”

You scrunch your nose up. Not in disgust, but in surprise. In bewilderment. What brought this on, all of a sudden?

“Really?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. “I thought we liked the separate bed thing. Gives us privacy.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “but—I don’t know, it’s stupid. I just thought, you know, since we’re married and all. And it’s been three months.” He looks about two seconds away from backtracking, from shaking his head and going upstairs before you can say anything else. 

“Alright,” you say quickly, nodding your assent. Taehyung’s eyes widen when he hears the word, like he had completely expected you to shut him down the moment he made the suggestion. “If that’s what you want. We can try it.”

“You sure?” He asks, that same hesitant smile from earlier lacing his features. It’s strange. He almost looks… sweet. Nervous. 

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

Taehyung lets you grab some of your toiletries and your pajamas from your designated bedroom before you head up the stairs together, towards the bedroom he’s claimed for himself. Funnily enough, this is the first time you’ve been in his room. Three months of living together and you haven’t dared step foot on the second floor. 

You don’t know what you were expecting when he opens the door to let you inside. Maybe a room that screamed ‘Taehyung’ a little more than this one does. One that looks like an actual human has been living here. But other than one of his classic silk button-downs draped over a chair, there’s not a shred of evidence someone has actually been sleeping here. You could honestly be fooled rather easily that the shirt, too, is just decoration. 

“You can pick a side,” Taehyung says casually. He grabs his own sleepwear—an old t-shirt and some sweats—and heads into the bathroom to change. 

You wonder why Taehyung has had such a difficult time adjusting. This room is about as lavish as a bedroom can get. And yet. 

Sitting down on the left side of the bed, you begin to remove your own clothes, unzipping tonight’s dress and stepping quickly into your pajamas, hurrying to make sure Taehyung doesn’t catch you half-naked. How funny is that, you think to yourself. You’ve been married for three months and you still can’t bear the thought of Taehyung seeing you without a shirt on. 

When Taehyung comes out of the bathroom, hair all messy and clothes all casual, he grins lazily to himself. “I sleep on the right anyway,” he comments mindlessly. 

Within twenty minutes the both of you are about as ready to pass out as you have ever been, the only lights still on the ones on your respective nightstands. 

“Goodnight,” Taehyung says, reaching an arm over to switch his off. 

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning off yours as well. And all of a sudden, the room is shrouded in darkness. 

You fall asleep instantly. 

When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, the first thing he says to you is that he hasn’t slept that well in ages. 

“You slept together?” Victoria shrieks, so loud you actually have to move your phone away from your ear as you punch in the code inside the elevator for access to your floor. 

“We did not sleep together,” you emphasize. “Okay, well, we sleep together, as in, in the same bed. But we are fully clothed. And not the slightest bit interested in doing anything other than sleeping.”

“I thought you said you liked having your own space,” Victoria points out. “When was the first time you—uh…” she pauses to find the right words, “shared a bed?”

“A couple weeks ago. It’s really not so bad, I don’t know why you’re so hung up over it,” you say, lips pursed. You squeeze the phone between the side of your head and your shoulder, hands full of shopping bags, the string of the handles burning your skin. Maybe you should look into getting a personal shopper. 

“I’m hung up over it because, for the longest time, you have sworn off Kim Taehyung. Called him dead to you. Insulted him every chance you get.” 

You scoff. You don’t need reminding of how much you hated him, how much you can’t believe you have to spend the rest of your life with him. “It’s different now. We’re married. And he said he wasn’t sleeping well. I felt bad.”

“He wasn’t?”

“Enough about him,” you say, shutting her up. You don’t feel like talking about him with Victoria anymore. “Word through the grapevine says that your parents are actually thinking of letting you start your own company?”

It’s enough to distract Victoria. For the rest of the ride in the elevator, she talks animatedly about a new streaming service her parents are considering letting her launch, under their parent business, of course, but it’s her own company nonetheless. And you’re proud of her. Proud she could do something your parents would never dream of letting you do. Proud she could make that happen. 

You push open the front door with the side of your hip after entering in the security code, phone still snug between your ear and your shoulder, when you hear Taehyung call out your name. 

He comes into view from the kitchen, which surprises you because you have, on multiple occasions, made fun of how much of a disaster chef he is, especially because he’s admitted to you he’s not a very good cook. 

“I made brownies,” he says, holding out a plate of the chocolate treats in front of you. Instinct has you dropping your bags on the floor by your feet and reaching out, but you eye him first, suspicious. 

“I have to go,” you tell Victoria, hanging up before she even gets a chance to object to your sudden departure. “You made these?”

“Yes, I did,” Taehyung says, rather proud. 

“And the kitchen is… still standing?” You ask, skeptical. 

Taehyung frowns at you, clearly unimpressed. “How bad of a chef do you think I am?”

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 

Taehyung pouts sadly to himself for a moment. “These are good, I swear. Nothing weird in them like vegetables or anything either. I used a box mix.”

“No wonder they look so nice,” you comment snidely, hesitant hand reaching out to grab one. They feel like brownies. So that’s good. 

“Hey, I was the one who had to crack the eggs and shit. Three eggs! And not one eggshell in the bowl!” Taehyung says, clearly very pleased with himself. 

You laugh at his enthusiasm, taking a bite. It’s good. And exactly what you needed after a long day of shopping. “I’m proud of you. They taste good.”

“I knew you wouldn’t doubt me.” Taehyung grins.

“They’re really good, actually,” You amend, genuinely surprised. And the best part is that you can count at least ten brownies left on that plate, which means that you get at least five more. Which, if you had any less self-restraint, you would probably eat all at once within the day. 

“I’m glad you like them. They’re all for us, you know. No one else to share them with,” he says.

“Honestly, I’m probably going to finish them by tonight. You’ll have to make more tomorrow,” you say sheepishly. 

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you respond. The words come off your mouth easily, tumbling from your lips without you having to think about it. You aren’t saying them because you have to. You’re saying them because you want to. Because baking with Taehyung doesn’t actually sound too bad. Especially if it means more brownies. 

“You’ve, uh, you’ve got something,” Taehyung says, gesturing vaguely to the side of his lip. 

“Oh, I do? Yikes,” you say, a little embarrassed. Your hand comes up to wipe at the left side of your mouth. “Is it gone?”

“Wait, here, let me do it,” Taehyung says, reaching out towards you. He presses his palm against the side of your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his enormous hands, and all at once it feels like your skin is on fire. 

Your body freezes up at the touch, at the way his thumb swipes at the corner of your mouth, right against your lips, wiping away nothing but a goddamn brownie crumb. You look at him, look right at him, how can you look anywhere else when he’s right in front of you like this, and it feels like you are caught in his gaze, a rain droplet trapped on a web, a bee stuck in its own honey. His big, brown eyes sparkle from the ceiling lights, a chocolate sky that mirrors the food he just made for you. He looks at you and his eyes are so soft, so open, so happy to be looking right back at you. God. 

“There,” he says, a moment too late. 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 

You both stand there, looking at each other, wordless expressions drawn all over your faces, no idea what to do next. 

After a while, Taehyung breaks the silence. “Do you wanna order takeout tonight?”

“Okay,” you nod, still a little breathless. Taehyung smiles before retreating back to the kitchen, leaving you standing in the entranceway, shopping bags abandoned by your side. 

You look over to where he’s vanished. There’s a part of you that wishes he hadn’t left. A part of you that makes you want to see him again. 

Phone calls from your mother are never good. The last time she called… well, you know how that went. So when you see her contact information light up your home screen, it’s only instinct that you feel your heart rate spike. 

“Hello?” The voice that comes out doesn’t even sound like yours. 

There’s no good way to put what comes next. Your grandmother has died. Heart attack. The paramedics got there too late. It was over before it even started. 

For a moment, for a split second, it feels like everything is frozen. Like the world has come to standstill. Your mother’s voice echoes in your ears, suspended in time, the words turning into stone as they crash onto the floor. And when they do, it is as if everything comes back to life. 

Truth be told, you don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, your phone resting lifelessly in the palm of your hand. It feels at once like an eternity and only a second in time. You spoke to your grandmother two days ago. You had promised that you and Taehyung would visit her soon. How can this be happening?

Your phone buzzes relentlessly in your hands, condolences pouring in from every person in your contacts, sorry’s and heart emoticons and If you need anything, I’m always here’s filling up your screen. There’s a part of you that vaguely registers your mother, alongside some of the other members of your family, trying to call you. But nothing can seem to shake you. 

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

You hear Taehyung before you see him. Hear his voice, hear his footsteps, hear the door creak open as he enters your bedroom. Slowly, almost sluggishly, you twist around to look at him, the mere act knocking the wind out of you. Or maybe you were already breathless. 

“Hey, you alright?” Taehyung knows instantly that something is wrong. 

“My grandmother died.” The words sit heavy on your tongue. There’s no point in not telling him. He’ll find out soon enough. He’s… he’s family, isn’t he?

“What?” Taehyung freezes in place. “I—I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, voice weak but steady. You blink up at him, once, twice, three times, and then suddenly you feel tears running down your cheeks. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else. He rushes to your side and sits himself down on the bed next to you, arms wrapping around your body. And you don’t think about the fact that it’s him, about the fact that this is the closest the two of you have ever been. You just let yourself be engulfed in his frame, let yourself be enveloped in his hold as the tears stream down your skin, little hiccups jolting your throat. You close your eyes and press yourself into his arms, head resting against his chest, and wish so desperately that so many things about your life were just a little bit different. 

It must be at least five minutes before either one of you dares to move. Your phone begins to rattle incessantly, that familiar and insistent buzz that the both of you are hard-pressed to ignore. 

“I think you should answer that,” Taehyung whispers into your skin, lips right by your forehead. 

“Yeah,” you sniffle, sitting up next to him and wiping the remnants of wetness by your eyes. Well, Taehyung’s seen you cry. There’s no going back now. “You’re probably right.” You look down at the phone. It’s your father. 

“I’ll be downstairs, okay? Unless you want me to stay,” he offers, looking hesitant. 

You shake your head. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Call me if you need me,” he makes you give him a nod of understanding before he finally gets up, hands slowly removing themselves from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. Remnants of warmth. Suddenly, you feel much colder. Hardly a minute later he’s out of the room, and you can hear his distant footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. 

Sighing, blinking, and swallowing all at once, you pick up. 

The call passes by in a blur. Your father says the will will take at least half a year to be executed, but that the funeral is already being planned. Your grandmother had hoped you would eulogize her. You agree, but you have no idea what you will say. He says Taehyung is invited but does not need to come if he cannot make it. He says a lot of other things too, about your mother, about your cousins, about your aunts and uncles and your poor grandfather, who passed five years ago, but you can’t even remember them moments after he’s said them. 

When he hangs up, the tears on your cheeks have dried, patches of them left along your skin. You head to the bathroom, getting off your bed for the first time that day, and try to wash away everything that has stained the morning. A part of you doesn’t even want to bother, just wants to slug downstairs and eat as much sugary cereal as you can get your hands on, but you can’t go down there looking like this. Looking so helpless. 

By the time you reach the kitchen, Taehyung is already standing there, on the opposite side of the counter island, a big stack of pancakes in front of him. They look mouth-watering. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Thought you might want something to cheer you up.”

“Did you make these?” You ask, a little endeared. That was thoughtful of him. 

“Yeah. They’re still warm,” Taehyung says. He holds out a fork. 

You grin. 

The funeral is a week later. It sucks in every way that something can suck. But not in the same way your wedding sucked, or even the announcement of your engagement. It sucks because it’s a funeral, because you have to stare down your grandmother’s casket when a part of you still doesn’t even believe that she’s gone. Because everyone there is so sad, so melancholy, dressed in all black and looking down at their feet. Because everyone is so sorry for you, so sorry for your loss, everyone has nothing but condolences to offer you. What will those do? They won’t bring her back. They won’t change things. They won’t make you feel even the slightest bit better. 

Taehyung comes. He comes because he offers, and because you want him to. You want someone whose hand to hold. Want someone to smile at you when you’re speaking in front of your entire extended family and trying not to cry. You want someone who is familiar, and warm, and there for you. 

And most of all, you want someone who won’t keep the conversation going when you get home. 

“Do you wanna order Chinese?” He asks, coming into the living room, where you have been sulking on the couch ever since you stepped foot inside the door. 

“That sounds nice,” you force out. 

“Okay. Your usual?”

“Yes, please.” You don’t bother asking how Taehyung already remembers what you like to order when you’ve only gotten Chinese twice in the last three months. 

“I’ll call them.” He disappears off into the kitchen. 

What you do appreciate about Taehyung is how he has defaulted to food as a comfort measure, and how the thought alone genuinely brightens you up a little bit. You don’t know each other very well—still, after three months, you couldn’t even say his favorite color—but he is doing his best, and he is trying his hardest. In some ways, you were unlucky to marry him. To marry someone you didn’t love. To be forced into a union you had no say in, with someone you had so much antagonistic history with. 

But in some ways, your luck has changed. In some ways, marrying him was perhaps the best thing that could happen to you. Taehyung is snarky, a little devilish, and absolutely full of himself, but he is not thoughtless. He is not heartless. He has proven that he is willing to put in the work. That he can grow to care. To change. To compromise. And isn’t that the luckiest thing you could have gotten?

“I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing people tell you they’re sorry for your loss.”

His voice breaks your reverie, carrying throughout the wide open space of your living room. He’s grinning honestly where he stands, slowly making his way over to you. 

“Kind of, yeah,” you admit. “It’s not going to bring her back. Most of those people probably don’t even mean it.”

“Don’t say that,” Taehyung says, sitting down next to you. “I’m sure they do.”

You look at him skeptically. 

“I mean, they’re sorry for your loss because that loss is causing you pain. And that sucks,” Taehyung explains, albeit a little less eloquently than you thought he would. “I know it sucks for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like seeing you sad,” Taehyung says honestly, shrugging to himself. 

You scoff a little to yourself. “I would have thought my downfall would be the exact thing the great Kim Taehyung would wish for himself.”

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Okay, maybe even a few months ago,” Taehyung admits with a laugh, making you smile, ever so slightly. “But it’s different now. I like it when you’re happy. When you’re snarky and funny and a little evil. Seeing you like this… I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

“That’s called empathy,” you point out. 

“I’m trying to tell you that seeing you sad makes me sad, stop being a smartass,” Taehyung chides, and that really makes you grin. “There. There’s that smile I was looking for.”

“You’re so annoying,” you say, even though there’s no malice behind it. You give him a little push, palms of your hand pressing lightly against his shoulder as you roll your eyes. 

“Only for you,” he promises. He manages to grab a hold of your wrist as your hand meets his torso, pulling you into him as he wraps an arm around your torso. You gasp a little at the sensation, head falling against his body, fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. He gives your side a comforting rub. “I’m sorry today was so shitty.”

“It was,” you agree. “But Chinese food will make it a little bit better.”

Taehyung looks positively scandalized. “What? ‘Chinese food will make it better’? But not your loving, doting husband?” 

You pretend to think for a little bit, tilting your head up to the sky as you tap your chin with your finger. “Okay. Maybe that, too,” you cave after a bit of waiting, just to be extra bothersome. 

“That’s what I thought,” Taehyung says proudly, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. You can feel his grip tighten as he presses you against his body, letting you rest your head on his side. It feels like the longest hug ever, like you’re wrapped up in a weighted blanket. Only it’s not a blanket. It’s Taehyung. It’s your husband. 

He’s your husband.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 

You nod against him, letting your eyes drift shut. Things are pretty awful right now. Your grandmother’s dead. The funeral was the saddest family event you have ever attended. You have no idea what’s supposed to happen next. 

But he’s right. He seems to be right a lot these days, actually. 

Tomorrow will be better.

Taehyung lets you sleep in for the next few days. Next several days, actually. Every time you wake up it’s close to noon and your husband is nowhere to be seen, the right side of the bed cold to the touch. It’s nothing to be worried about, though, because you can still see the noticeable dip in the bed from where he lies upon it, sinking his weight into the mattress. Taehyung’s an early bird and you’ve been having fitful nights ever since your grandmother passed. 

Today, you pull yourself out from underneath the covers around noon, sluggish and still tired, squinting as the near-afternoon light streams through the enormous windows of the bedroom. Taehyung must have thought to keep the curtains open today. 

You pull on the first casual clothes you see in your shared closet, some wide-leg sweatpants and a drapey t-shirt, and trudge downstairs like a raccoon to a trash can, hoping to fish through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat. 

Taehyung is, as far as you can tell, nowhere to be seen. You can’t seem to hear him anywhere, and a part of you wonders where he’s at when you stumble upon the note left on the granite counter. 

Had a meeting downtown, be back around 1! There should be smoked salmon and some cream cheese and bagels in the fridge. 

Taehyung.

You chuckle to yourself as you read his flowy handwriting, amused that he thought to let you know of, of all things, the available breakfast foods in the kitchen. You check the clock. It’s nearly noon. Which means you have just over an hour of the house all to yourself. 

Having the house to yourself for five minutes is infrequent enough as it is, let alone for a whole hour. So often is Taehyung around, somewhere, holing himself up in one of the dozens of rooms or mindlessly wandering down the hallways. And for how much Taehyung is present, the funny part is that you still have no idea what he gets up to most of the time. Despite your voluntary abandoning of the separate bedroom rule, the two of you are still firm proponents of the sanctity of your personal spaces. There are rooms in the penthouse Taehyung has never been in, rooms filled with your clothes and makeup and accessories for when stylists come over before an event. A sewing room that you had specifically asked your parents for, because a part of you never let go of that childhood dream of being a fashion designer. 

And there are rooms in the penthouse that you have never been in. Rooms with dark wooden doors that have always been kept closed, that you have never stepped foot in. It’s not that you aren’t curious as to what Taehyung gets up to. He could have a goddamn evil lair in one of those rooms and you would be none the wiser. But you don’t go, because he doesn’t go into your rooms. Because you two, despite all the vows you have broken, promised each other you wouldn’t.

An hour to yourself is almost a good enough excuse for you to head back up to the bedroom and take a nap. Not that you don’t get enough sleep on a regular basis, or that you even had a fitful night last night—hell, you woke up near noon today and already you want to go back to sleep—but what else is there to do when he’s not around? What new freedoms have suddenly been given to you?

You head back upstairs, much less groggy after that delicious bagel of yours, when you catch a whiff of what smells like wet paint coming from down the hallway. It’s potent and immediately invades your senses, prompting you to wonder if that has always been there, or just magically appeared. Maybe you were so sleepy earlier, you didn’t notice it. 

Well, you notice it now. Unable to help yourself, you start to wander down the hallway, towards the source of the smell. God, it stinks. It takes you back to those days in middle school, when you would spray paint projects inside a tiny little classroom, have to step outside for fifteen minutes while you cracked the windows and aired it out. It gets stronger the further down the corridor you go, like a thick, smelly cloud stationed firmly within the walls of the penthouse. And then you realize where it’s coming from. 

It’s an art studio. 

A very messy art studio, you amend to yourself, as you peek inside. The door is wide open, and all of the windows are popped too, but the extra air circulation doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the scent. And all over the floor, the walls, and the tables are canvases covered in paint, denim jackets and pants and shirts with these wide, unafraid brushstrokes. Open cans of spray paint lie discarded on the hardwood floor stained with splotches of red, yellow, and green. 

Is this what Taehyung does in his free time? Is this where he goes, this bright, sunny room at the end of the second floor hallway? Is this what he is making?

You look down in awe at the clothes resting on the floor, splayed out to maximize dry time. Abstract faces, landscapes, and words are painted onto the backs of jackets, the fronts of old white t-shirts. What hasn’t made it onto the clothes has been put on canvases instead, blurs of color mixed together in this purposeful pattern, confidence emanating from every stroke, every dot. It’s not art in the way that the gorgeous landscapes of Monet, the picture-perfect portraits of Kahlo, the messy, unplanned splatters of Pollock are. It’s art in a different way. In a Taehyung way. 

Who knew he loved it so much? 

You almost feel like an invader encroaching on his territory when you lean down to start cleaning up some of the mess, throwing out empty spray-paint cans and tossing out grey paint water. You don’t dare touch any of the work, don’t dare try to move it. You do what you can, washing out the brushes resting in the water and cleaning up the wet splotches of paint on the hardwood. Over time, the thick scent of still-wet paint slowly fades, disappearing out the window as the fresh afternoon air seeps in. And you stand there, in a room full of art, in a room full of pieces that Taehyung has undoubtedly poured his heart into creating, and you smile to yourself. 

That’s how Taehyung finds you ten minutes later, peering into the room after declaring that his meeting had ended early. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” Taehyung says with a grin as you jump at the sound of his voice, eyes widen when you turn around to see him standing by the door. 

“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”

“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit. 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.

“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 

“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”

“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised. 

“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out. 

You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do. 

But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 

And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least. 

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”

Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions. 

“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make. 

His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal. 

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?

For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline. 

To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night. 

“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks. 

The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”

“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other. 

“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement. 

“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up. 

“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure. 

One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another. 

Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do. 

“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here. 

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely. 

“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”

“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”

“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you. 

“You are?”

Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”

You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”

“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”

“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”

Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued. 

You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”

“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”

“Bingo.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart. 

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 

“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive. 

“A museum curator.”

It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all. 

“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”

“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you. 

“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.

“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.

Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with. 

In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 

“Bathroom.”

“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”

“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation. 

“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”

“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother. 

“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”

“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother. 

“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”

Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own. 

Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room. 

“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. 

“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all. 

But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned. 

You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you. 

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 

Taehyung grins. 

Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background. 

You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him. 

“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling. 

“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles. 

“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”

“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”

You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”

“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily. 

“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort. 

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch. 

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know. 

“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”

“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started. 

“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff. 

“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking. 

Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him. 

“And what did I say?” You demand more. 

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”

“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too. 

Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?” 

Of him saying—

“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”

Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”

“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”

“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not. 

You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background. 

“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”

Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer. 

And closer. 

And a little closer. 

Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television. 

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 

Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be. 

You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack. 

“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out. 

Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”

“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”

“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”

“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.

“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”

“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.

“What?”

“Us.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other. 

And he understands that now, things are different. 

“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder. 

You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.

There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable. 

This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to. 

The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat. 

“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table. 

You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”

“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd. 

“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace. 

“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 

“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised. 

That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly. 

Something that makes you want more. 

You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins. 

Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you. 

There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips. 

“Tell me something,” he demands. 

“What?” 

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”

It’s enough for him. 

This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting. 

Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new. 

Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all. 

When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.

"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.

It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.

You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.

"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.

Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.

You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.

Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.

Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly. 

You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.

 You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.

You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.

"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.

"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."

He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...

"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.

You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.

You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.

The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.

Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.

He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.

There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.

You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.

"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.

You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.

You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.

"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."

Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking. 

He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.

Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.

Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.

Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.

He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Open up for me," he orders.

And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?

Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.

It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.

A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.

You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.

Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.

"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.

You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.

Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.

"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief. 

He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?

"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."

"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly. 

"Fuck's sake."

You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.

Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness? 

Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless. 

You both are. 

Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable. 

"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?" 

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 

"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking. 

He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.

"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.

To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.

You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation. 

You want him.

You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.

"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.

"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.

You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.

You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."

Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."

You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.

"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.

You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.

You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.

He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.

God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.

"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.

You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.

You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.

You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.

"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.

If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.

Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.

You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.

Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.

Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.  

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly. 

You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”

Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call. 

You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock. 

A late morning call, then. 

Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine. 

After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday. 

You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself. 

You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—

“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”

And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise. 

You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound. 

He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock. 

“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already. 

“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”

“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father’s business when he died?”

Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”

Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”

“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”

“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”

“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 

You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?

The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away. 

“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him. 

Well, that makes two of you. 

“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”

They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light. 

Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could. 

When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”

“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”

“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?

“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him. 

A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care. 

“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?

“I know,” you whisper back.

You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight. 

Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it. 

“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks. 

“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.

Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it. 

Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts. 

You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life. 

It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer. 

But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life. 

All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do. 

“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes. 

You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”

“Have you even called your parents?” 

“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least. 

“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole. 

There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late. 

Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love. 

And then there is nothing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did. 

“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight. 

You peer over. 

It’s Taehyung. 

Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?

He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean. 

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”

Oh, God.

Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”

“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 

“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention. 

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 

Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.

So why not lie?

You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.

“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors. 

Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything. 

You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?

Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him. 

The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want. 

Why would he lie? 

Why would he do that?

You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank. 

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries. 

Does he really love you back?

Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant. 

When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him. 

Almost. 

Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.

 Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least. 

You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay. 

Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you. 

Or so he thinks. 

You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.

My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.

And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way. 

Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there. 

And there he is. 

“Wait! Taehyung!”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk. 

And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then. 

You know that everything will be okay. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up. 

Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you. 

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 

It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home. 

You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile. 

“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. 

“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back. 

You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow. 

The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again. 

One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 

But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 

The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 

“I missed this,” you say softly. 

“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”

“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 

“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”

“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 

“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”

“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”

You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 

“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”

“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”

“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 

You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 

Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 

It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 

There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.

The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.

Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.

Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?

It makes it all worth it.

"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.

You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 

Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.

"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 

"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 

"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.

"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.

"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."

"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.

You giggle.

It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 

"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."

“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 

"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."

God, you love this man.

You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 

"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.

Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.

"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.

Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.

Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?

Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.

"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.

"Yes, please."

The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.

Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.

You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.

"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.

You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.

Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.

He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.

"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.

His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.

His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.

“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.

Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.

“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman

Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.

“Taehyung?”

You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.

Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.

“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.

You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 

“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.

He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.

Faintly, you realize. 

That was the first time you had ever told him that.

You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. ���But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was. 

don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!

[thesafecafe]

Can you write a threesome of San and Yunho in a semi public place?

Midnight Snack

Word count: uhhh?

Smut under the cut, threesome, reader has big tiddies, lots of thirst lmao, pwp mostly, fem reader, 18+, minors dni, semi public sex, slight teasing, pet-names, hickies, sir kink, soft dom!Yunho, soft dom!San, condoms (wrap it before you tap it y’all), oral (f receiving), body worship, fingering, PIV, choking, stomach bulge, hair pulling, slight degredation if you blink, heed the warnings, gif not mine, enjoy! (I am only semi-experienced in smut writing, so excuse it if it’s not good krjfnd). 

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection of the members of Ateez, or their behavior in any way, nor do I believe they would act this way in real life. This is simply fiction written for entertainment purposes. 

It wasn’t your intention to be getting your back blown out in the middle of your shared apartment’s kitchen, but here you were, bent over the table in nothing but a pair of crotch-less underwear and a hoodie. Your roommate was asleep down the hall, tired from studying, and you could only pray she didn’t hear your midnight rendezvous through the walls. This happened due to a failed vibrator, a stressful day, and giving into your friend’s crazy suggestion. 

“Just call the number Y/N! It’s completely safe, they’re from an established medical company, they have regular screenings for employee’s health, and it’s a way to satisfy your needs without hooking up with a total stranger. They specialize in women’s sexual health.”

You’d taken their advice, and now, as you felt a large hand slide up your leg, you were secretly grateful that they had introduced you to it. You now had two gorgeous men in your kitchen, ready to help you out. “Remember our safety system love?” The shorter one, a man with jet black hair, looked at you softly, tilting his head. He was so beautiful, you forgot to answer until a voice from behind you shook you out of your trance. 

“San, we made her repeat it to us about 20 times in the past 15 minutes, I’m sure she knows it. Right sweetheart?” The taller one, Yunho, whispered the last part in your hair, You shivered, nodding at the blonde. “It’s green, yellow, and red.” Yunho nodded approvingly, removing his suit jacket. “Good girl. Now, this will work, just like we talked about it. San’s going to take first watch, while I help you get ready to relax, okay princess?” “Yes sir.” “Alright, let’s begin. Positions everyone!”

Yunho started the session, turning you around to give you a kiss on the lips. It started out chaste enough, but as it progressed, his tongue slowly made it’s way into your mouth. You moaned at the contact, letting him explore your mouth as his hands slid under your hoodie to rest on your hips. His fingers brushed gentle circles across your skin as he kissed you, causing you to warm up in the night air of the kitchen. Breaking away for air, Yunho placed his lips along your neck, leaving small, wet kisses on your throat. 

You moaned when he found that special spot on your neck, and he took note of your reaction. He elicited more moans from you as he payed special attention to that spot, “Can I mark you here sweetheart?” His voice had taken a more serious tone, dropping a few octaves deeper. It sent heat rushing to your core. “Yes sir.” He goes to work, leaving a patchwork of purple and red love bites across your skin. His hands trailed upwards, cupping your breasts. He found them to be larger than they looked, but they still fit perfectly in his hands. He massaged them for a bit, before tugging on your hoodie. “Lift it up a little baby. I wanna see you.”  You did as he said, raising your hoodie just above your chest, allowing them to have a clear view of your breasts. 

San whistled, causing another rush of heat to embrace your skin. “Fuck, you have such nice tits princess. Were you gonna hide these all night?” Yunho asks, hands coming up to squeeze them again. Yunho bent himself until he was level with your breasts, and darted out his tongue to swirl around both of your nipples. You moaned as he kept his attention on your chest. “As much as I would love to keep touching these amazing tits babe, there’s something I’d like to taste a lot more.” His voice vibrated against your chest, as his hand slid lower, reaching between your thighs. His hand brushed past the fabric of your crotch less panties, fingers dipping further into your slit as he moved them back and forth. You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, and onto his hand. 

“Please, I need more.” You hadn’t intended to sound so desperate, but you had waited too long to be toyed with. Yunho smiled at your pleading, and dropped down to his knees in front of you. He pulled your panties off with ease, smirking when they landed with an audible plop noise ringing in the kitchen. He put your left leg on his shoulder, and your hands in his hair. “Hang on tight sweetheart.” He leaned in, spreading apart your lips, and licking up from your entrance to your clit. He moved his tongue with controlled precision, dipping it inside of you and collecting your taste on his tongue. You gripped his hair, your pleasure heightened at the feeling of his tongue dragging against your walls. His nose brushed your clit, and you moaned, tugging him closer. Yunho twisted his head so that his nose kept a steady rhythm on your clit for a moment, before moving away.

You felt his tongue move back to your clit, like warm velvet adding pleasure to your senses. You felt yourself about to come undone when he brought two fingers past your lips, and slid them into your entrance. His fingers driving into you, along with his attention to your clit had you releasing for the first time that night. Yunho opened his mouth, catching most of it on his tongue. His mouth glistened with the aftermath of your release. “Good job princess. San, it’s your turn.” Yunho stood to give you one final kiss, his lips fresh with the taste of your arousal. San strolled over, a gentle grin on his face. “Having fun so far love? Are we feeling okay?” He caressed your cheek as you nodded. “I feel amazing, We can keep going.”

San directed you to bend over the table for the next portion of your evening. You heard him rip open plastic, most likely a condom wrapper, before you heard his pants unzip. You looked back and caught yourself nearly drooling as you watched him put the condom over himself. "My eyes are up here, love." You turned red, he wasn't even looking at you and caught you staring. San finished putting on the condom, and walked closer to you, placing his hands on your hips. "Hands the table, and hold on tight, got it?" You nodded, following his instructions. His hand slid between your legs, fingers brushing past your lips before finding your entrance. He slid two fingers down, spreading your lips and lining himself up with you, before gently sliding himself into your waiting heat. You gasped a little, not expecting the sudden stretch. Your walls pulsated against him, taking him in. You felt him stop, allowing you time to adjust for a moment.

"Ready?” You nodded, giving him the go ahead. San started moving, slowly dragging himself along your walls, before drilling into you faster. You cried out at the change of pace. He was reaching deeper than you could with your personal dildo. “You take me so well princess.” San growled in your ear, his thrusts becoming merciless. He shifted, lifting your leg in the air, before continuing to fuck into you deeper. Your eyes closed for a moment, reveling in the pleasure you felt. You felt something poking your cervix though, and when you looked down, you couldn’t help the sounds you made. As San continued to pleasure your body, you could see the imprint of him in your stomach. That alone had you spiraling. San pulled your hair, groaning at the feel of you clenching around him. He could tell you were close, but so was he, and he’d need help getting you off before him.

“Yunho, you think you could help us out here bud?” San panted, looking over at the taller man. Yunho smirked, walking over to the both of you. You felt his long fingers drawing circles on your clit, as he leaned down to whisper in your ear “Be a good girl and cum for us again. You can do that for us, can’t you baby?” You whined, the feeling of San inside you and Yunho’s hands becoming too much to bear. “Such a pathetic little baby, she has to wait until we tell her she’s allowed. Such a weak, pathetic baby.” San’s degrading words had you seeing stars as your second high washed over you. San stilled, spilling his load into the condom, hissing as you tightened around him. 

Yunho towered over the both of you, a smile gracing his lips. “I hope you’re not tired princess. We have a long rest of the night ahead of us.” 

[riddle-me-ri]

TWOJAR!Riddler x F!Reader - Having Fun Pt. 2

A/N: Whelp, the past 48 hours have taught me anything is that y’all really are thirsty for the buff leprechaun prick...and it’s okay, me too. I’m glad I could provide rip. So here’s a part 2, as a thank you for all the love and support on it. Special thanks to @finniestoncrane who requested the brilliant set-up for this in the first place.

Also reader has a vagina in this, the first part can (hopefully) be read gender-neutral, but I only know how to write smut for an afab reader cause it’s what I’m used to rip so sorry...

Trigger Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (like fresh filth), Unprotected Sex, Face-fucking, Biting, Heavy Sexual Teasing, Cursing...that should be it

Word Count: 1.77 k of pure filth I’m so sorry

Oh yeah…he’s pissed…pissed and horny. 

You had to try and keep your smile down to a smirk before it turned into a prideful grin. No need to remind Ed of that pale-faced prick. You get in the passenger seat and you barely get your seatbelt on before Ed peeled out of the parking lot. 

“Jesus, Ed what the hell?”

A scoff.

You crossed your arms in a huff. He always got like this whenever you dealt the shit he gave you back at him.

It’s a fun game between the two of you. Who gives in first? Who crumbles at the touch of the other? Who is the first to say “fuck this” or “to hell with this” and pounce?

Looks like it’s him, and it’s got him frustrated…

Edward was always a a sore loser. You were lost in thought of your next move, when you felt a warm hand on your knee. You gave the hand a glance before looking back out the window. The thumb of his hand started rubbing along your knee. 

Shit, gotta think of something… 

You grin as the idea came to you. This set-up gave you an advantage to double down on your ministrations from earlier that you were able to half ass with your foot. You also don’t have to be as discreet about it. 

“Eddie?” 

“Mm?” He didn’t dare take his eyes of the road to look at you, he removed his hand from your knee to make a turn.

You lean over the center console. One arm goes around his head and onto his shoulder. The other lays purchase on his left pectoral. His shirt was open (obviously) so your bare hand touched warm skin. His breath hitched at the cold assault of your hand. 

“I can keep going…”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Your hands start softly rubbing into his skin, as your lips began making a trail kisses and hickies along his cheek, neck, wherever your lips could reach. He tries to remain unphased by your affections, but it is all a front. The hand that rested over his chest could feel his heart doing backflips. 

He can think whatever he likes, but his heart doesn’t lie. You drag your hand down his torso, stopping at start of his question mark scar. Your pointer finger begins to trace the top of the question mark to the bottom and playfully tap the point. You did this a couple times to get him to loosen up as you notice his hands tighten the steering wheel again. 

“Do you want me to? Keep going?” Your hand falls down from his chest and lands between his legs. Your fingers cup his dick and you start pumping it through the fabric. He hisses as you gently nip at his earlobe.

“W-We’re almost home..”

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

“Gr..y-you’re mad…absolutely mad and insatiable.” 

“Only for you, Mr. Nygma.”

That was your final attack, the move you waited until the very last second before he absolutely implodes, securing you a victory. 

Before you knew it, he threw the car in park in front of your apartment complex. He grabs you around your waist and torso and drags you across the console and into his arms. 

“Ah–Ed!” If it wasn’t for all the teasing beforehand for your game, this would’ve been super sweet to have Ed carrying you to your apartment. His eyes were completely blown at this point. There was nothing sweet behind those eyes. 

You gulp. Maybe you pushed him a wee too far?

~~~~~~~

It was a small scuffle for the top position. After you two threw off the rest of your clothes, Ed lifts you up again to toss you on the bed. You were quick to scurry away before he could cage you with his body.

“Nuh uh, I don’t think so.”

Ed growled in frustration. It shouldn’t have made you as wet as it did. 

You pace the edge of the bed before pushing him down onto the mattress. You’re straddling him now as you grab his wrists to keep him from lifting you up and tossing you back down. 

Given how turned on you both were by the end of dinner, it was a toss up who won or lost. Now it was up to who could make the other cum first. 

Ed lets up; he puts his arms up in faux surrender. “Okay, okay…You win, darling...just...please.”

“Please what?” You mistakenly let go of his wrists. 

“Let me make you cum.” He smirks.

He grabs your waist before scooting further down the bed so his head was perpendicular with the mattress and not propped by a pillow. He hoisted your waist up and pressed your core right to his face. 

“Ed! Ahh…shit!” 

His tongue immediately dove in between your soaked folds. Eagerly tasting for more of your juices. His stupid round nose teasing at your clit every time he shook his head. 

“S-S-mmm- sore loser…” You mutter in between your moans. You could feel him grinning before teasingly nipping at your folds. You’re desperately clawing at something to ground yourself, you find purchase in the textured wall. 

You’re conflicted between pulling yourself away for a chance at victory or just giving in to the loss. Ed’s hands squeeze your waist as he begins thrusting his tongue in and out of you, occasionally taking it out to lick deep circles in your clit. 

“F-f-fuck…fine. Fine! God damnit, you-you win...just...please...please, baby…Eddie..” You were becoming delirious at this point. You didn’t give a shit about winning, you just needed some release from the growing knot in your stomach.

Before your brain can register what you’re doing, you’re softly grinding your cunt further into his face. Anything to get his tongue to reach in deeper. Edward hoists your hips off his face for a minute as he brings his fingers up to your clit to rub fast circles. 

“E-E-Eddie! Ed-fuck…just like that.” 

Your hands fly down to grab at his head. You were once fighting to keep his touch off you. Now you’re fighting to make sure he doesn’t pull away. 

“Mm...Ed! ED!” The knot in the pit of you gut finally came undone in a strong wave. Every inch of your body shook in tremors as warm tingles rode throughout your nerves. You barely felt the soft lazy licks at your folds as Ed’s tongue lept at your release, not wasting any. 

Eventually you had to pat his head to let him know you were getting sensitive. He let go of your waist and you scooted down as he sat back up to lean his back against the wall. You straddled him lap as you rest your hands on his shoulders.

His stupid chin was shiny in the glow of the moonlight that spilled past the window. 

He has a stupid grin on his face. 

He opened his mouth to say something, probably something stupid. 

You smashed your lips into his. He tastes like you and it makes you moan into his mouth. He lets you take control for once and allows your tongue to take over his mouth. Your hands cup his face as one hand of his cups your cheek. 

His thumb rubs along your cheek and it makes you break the kiss to look at him. The absolute wreck you’ve turned him into. His pale skin was tinted a soft red throughout. His hair was disheveled in some areas and his broad chest was heaving. 

Let him think he won…this view is worth losing over.

“What does the, oh so brilliant, winner of the evening want for his prize?” You already know the answer, which is why you were already lifting yourself off his lap.

“What I always want…” Ed groans as you grab his cock to line up to your entrance.

“Me.”

“You.” You both let out a moan as you finally connect. His cock stretched you and reached further into you than his tongue ever could. 

“Shit..E-eddie…”

He wraps his hands around your waist. “F-fuck…” He pulls you into his chest as he starts kissing along your neck and shoulder. He slowly starts thrusting in and out of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, as one hand runs through his hair. 

“Aahh..E-Eddie w-what’re you?”

He bite and nibbled on the top of your breast in a strange pattern than usual. He was marking you up though, that’s all you knew. When you tried to ask him again, he just started thrusting harder and you began bouncing on him to meet his pace. 

You were close after coming earlier, although you tried to keep it at bay so you could come with him. Ed is kneading both breasts now, the one he marked up being especially tender with every squeeze, but it just fueled you more. 

You grab Ed’s face again and pull him in for another passionate kiss. Faster and faster, closer and closer to the precipice. Your legs start shaking as the all too familiar knot starts tightening and tightening. 

“E-E-Eddie..Eddie!” 

His fingernails dig into your skin as he holds you down on top of him as you cum and he’s quick to follow suit as your clenching walls tighten around him from your climax. 

You’re both panting messes. You rest your head on his chest as he leans his head against the wall. 

“That was close…” He mutters. 

You giggle softly, “yeah, I almost broke your winning streak there, huh?” 

“If not for your foolish tall tale I would’ve taken you over the table.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Ooohh. Good to know…gives me ideas for next weekend.”

It was his turn to laugh now. 

“Now what the hell were you biting into me,” you looked down at your right breast, “oh what the hell?” 

There were four to five marks that were starting to bloom, and they were linked together to look like a question mark. 

A goddamn question mark. 

You lightly punched him in the shoulder, before shoving your face into his chest again. “You’re such a possessive asshole.” 

Ed chuckles again as he scoots down the bed with you in his arms and grabs for the covers to cover the both of you. 

“But you love me.” He kisses the top of your head. 

“I do, and there’s nothing to be done about it, unfortunately..”

“Damn.” 

You punch his chest again. 

“Hey, is that anyway to treat your partner after having such a fun night together?”

“Oh...hush.” 

You both fell asleep contently in the others arms, already scheming about the next night of fun to come.

[idontblushsrry]

Sesshomaru||NSFW Alphabet

A/N: That’s right, I wrote an NSFW alphabet for him as well. How could I not, he’s a hottie. Also somehow, I managed to keep this w a gender neutral reader, so all my Sesshomaru fans may enjoy (unless u ship s*ssrin, then leave)

Word Count: 1911

Warnings: Obviously nsfw

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

After sex, Sesshomaru returns to his initial composure almost immediately. Like he’ll pant for a few seconds, wipe his dick off and then immediately, boom, like nothing ever happened. Of course, you, are thoroughly wrecked, needing Sesshomaru’s help, help which he is more than happy to give.

B - Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part on himself has to be his arm/arms (depending). He loves his arms for a reason completely separate from you, he just enjoys the fact that he finally has two arms, like he thinks back to all the times he didn’t properly appreciate his left arm, and vows to never make that same mistake.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

As much as he loves cumming on your body, nothing compares to the feeling of cumming inside you. He loves to watch you slowly lose all coherency as he just fucks you full of his cum. If you let this man cum inside you, you will unleash a whole new beast, that you’re gonna have to be prepared to deal with. 

D - Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes, when Sesshomaru knows he’s going to be away from you for a long time, he tries to fuck you as much as possible. He knows that he’ll miss you and gets a little more lovey dovey, but above all, he’s trying to remember the feeling of you so he can better mimic it with his had.

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Sesshomaru is extremely experienced, on account of both his rank and his power. Demons are attracted to power and rank and, being so noble, Sesshomaru has never had any trouble with finding a partner to warm his bed. He’s not versed in everything but he has a strong sense of intuition and a deep connection with his own desires.

F - Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

A bit cliché, but, his favorites are doggy style and mating press. Any position where he has the leverage to press you down and fuck into you also ranks pretty high on his list.

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sesshomaru is so serious in the moment. He gets so laser focused on pleasing you that he finds any distractions to be a bit...grating. That being said, you’re the exception, if he happens to make you laugh during sex, he’ll just roll his eyes affectionately before shutting you up with a kiss.

H - Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s about as well groomed as any man of his station at the time would be. He’s not exactly shaving down there but his hair is so fine that it isn’t unbearable. Also the carpet definitely matches the drapes, his hair is extremely light and it’s hard to see sometimes.

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Sesshomaru is very intimate in subtle ways. He shows you hat he cares by doing little things to ensure your comfort. Whether it’s brushing sweat off your head, setting pillows under your hips, or retracting his nails when he holds you, Sesshomaru is the king of unspoken intimacy. He loves you and he’s going to show it in the most obvious way.

J - Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

As stated earlier, Sesshomaru really only jacks off out of necessity. He had no problem with getting someone to fuck, ad now that he has you, he doesn’t see the need to masturbate. The only time he’ll do so is if you’re gonna be away from him for a while and he’s really horny.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Sesshomaru has a breeding kink, sorry not sorry. Even if you can’t get pregnant, something in him just tells him to keep filling you with his cum until it spills out. At which point, he just repeats the process. He also has a thing for marking, whether it be by scent, hickies, or with his cum, he loves the reminder/proclamation that you’re his.

L - Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Sesshomaru’s not picky about location. He’s of the opinion that, as long as you’re comfy, he’s ok with it. He does enjoy having his fill of you in your shared bedroom, but yall aren’t really home often enough for him to be that particular about it.

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

The only thing that turns Sesshomaru on is the sight/thought of you naked and waiting for him. 

N - NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sesshomaru does not care all that much for sharing, and in a similar vein, voyeurism. With voyeurism, he doesn’t mind fucking out in the open, as long as no one else is around. The second he gets whiff of anyone, he’s pulling out of you faster than you can even realize what’s going on. With sharing, just don’t ask. He won’t show it but, the thought of someone else even seeing you that vulnerable enrages him and sets off his baser instincts. If you suggest it, he’s going to be very hurt for some time.

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Sesshomaru probably didn’t even know about oral until you went down on him for the first time. While he isn’t exactly the most experienced in it, he more than makes up for it with his sheer voracity. If you ask him to give you head, he’s getting on his knees, laying you back like, “say less”.

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Sesshomaru can be both but he tends to lean on the more fast and rough side. Sure, your hips and legs hurt, but who can really complain when there’s a powerful demon pounding into you like a jackhammer.

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

When you first told Sesshomaru what a quickie entailed, he was intrigued. Admittedly, he didn’t like the concept at first, but the more he thought about it the more it grew on him. He likes the thought of you being so needy for him that you’d rather jump him as soon as possible than wait to get home.

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

In terms of experimentation, Sesshomaru’s not all that open to it. He’ll try if you insist but he’s definitely not one to suggest any experimentation. As for risks in terms of location, as long as he’s far enough from others, he doesn’t really care where y’all fuck or how loud you are. 

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can go as long as you can. He does like to build your endurance more and more each time, but sex in general with him is a serious time commitment.  He’s more than willing to space it throughout the day if that would suit you better.

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

No toys, Sesshomaru doesn’t see the point in them. It also goes back to his thing about sharing, while he won’t be as angry as he would be with another person there, the thought infuriates him. Just thinking about an object getting to feel you in the same way he does make him see red.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sesshomaru prefers not to tease, but he will if he feels the need to. He prefers to get straight to the point, letting you cum as many times as he sees fit to, honestly, prep you to take him in. But if he’s feeling particularly slighted, (whether by you or some demon he can’t quite murder) he’ll take it all out on you. While he won’t tease you in public, in private, he’ll work you up, get you right on the edge of cumming, and then pull it away. The more you whimper and whine, the more tempted he is to draw out your torture.

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Sesshomaru is pretty quiet... usually. While he prides himself on his control, of which extends even to the bedroom, letting out a few grunts once he’s about to cum, his rut is a different story. Sesshomaru refuses to talk about or even acknowledge how unihinged he acts during his rut but honestly, the moment he gets a whiff of your arousal, he sounds like a wild animal. Every repressed emotion and sound comes bubbling back up to the surface and he just goes around growling and panting until he can stick his dick in you.

W - Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Sesshomaru tries his best to be gentle/hold back with you. It’s not obvious and you haven’t noticed because most of it happens in the heat of the moment when you’re distracted by...other things. But, he knows he tends to lose himself inside of you so in preparation, he’ll remove his hands from your body and let his claws rip into the surface under/behind you, whether it be a tree, bed, or just the floor. One of these times, his poison accidently activated and he shielded your body by leaning down and making out with you. That day, he discovered his affinity for kissing you while pounding into you.

X - X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Mans got a third leg, I just know. The baggy pants hide it pretty well but when you manage to pull it out, he’s easily 8 inches (10-12 when fully hard depending on circumstances), uncut, and really pretty. Like other parts of him, Sesshomaru’s dick is beautiful, a small patch of silver hair near his base. Speaking of, Sesshomaru does have a knot, if he cums inside of you, he tries to do so without getting it stuck just because of the fact that it’s kind of a hassle waiting it out. But if you let him knot you and the situation allows it, he might go a little feral whoops.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Sesshomaru has a pretty high sex drive and before you, he could control it pretty well in all instances besides his rut. He still maintains his impeccable control but he finds himself ready to go a lot more often than he used to be. Like if you ask him, he’s immediately down regardless of what he’s doing. The only time that he gets supernaturally and uncontrollably horny is when he goes into rut. At which point...good luck getting his dick out of you.

Z - ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

While Sesshomaru doesn’t really get tired after sex in the same way you do, he does understand when you’re kind of tapped out for the night/day/moment and is more than content to watch you sleep. After a while though, the sounds of your heartbeat and the quiet sounds of your breathing will set him at ease and put him to sleep.

[otakusheep15]

Kinktober Day 6: Body Worship feat Asmodeus

Could not think of a better prompt for Asmo tbh. And this also means more fluff! This one will be pretty self-indulgent, but I hope y’all still enjoy it anyways. 

Content includes: body worship, aggressive amounts of fluff, trans male reader (afab, uses he/him) mentions of body dysphoria, Asmo is amab and uses he/him, very little explicit sex

Asmo loves body worship as much as you’d expect

Naturally, he loves it when his partner(s) shower him in love and praise for how pretty he looks

However, many tend to not realize that Asmo loves giving the praise as much as he loves receiving it, especially when his partner isn’t feeling good about their body

This just so happens to be the case today

You’d been struggling with dysphoria for the whole day, and you really had no clue why

Obviously, you know why you have dysphoria in general, but you couldn’t pinpoint why it felt so strong today of all days

Either way, Asmo saw just how down you were, and he knew he had to do something about it

He can’t just stand by and watch his beloved partner be so sad over their body like this

When the day is over and y’all are both home, Asmo is immediately dragging you upstairs to his room for some quality time

This is probably the softest he’s ever been with you when initiating anything sexual

Usually, he’s much more upbeat and sultry, but today Asmo’s so sweet and soft

Lays you down and tells you to just relax; he’s not letting you move a damn muscle this time around

Asmo starts out with just some light praises, telling you how much he loves you, how you’re such a good boy, and really emphasizing the boy part

Almost everything he tells you affirms your gender in one way or another, and he won’t stop until he sees you crack a smile, even if that takes all night

Once you do, he moves onto the next step in his plan to cheer you up

Lots and lots of kisses, everywhere, all over your body

He tries not to bite or leave any marks since this is supposed to be a wholesome experience, but one or two hickies make their way onto you anyways

Asmo only removes the clothes you’re okay with him removing

If you wanna leave your shirt on, he’ll let you, but he does at least want you to remove your binder if you’re wearing it

The last thing he wants is for you to hurt yourself from wearing it for too long

Once you’re as exposed as you wish to be, Asmo continues

He trails down your body slowly, taking his time and truly appreciating all parts of your body

No place is left untouched, and he has something nice to say about each and every part of you

Before going any further, he makes sure you’re okay with him touching you, and only continues on once you give consent

Spends hours pleasuring you, and for once he’s trying not to be a tease

Uses his fingers, tongue, and any toys he has to bring you as much pleasure as possible

His hope in that you’ll be too lost in pleasure to remember your dysphoria, at least for a little while

Never once does he think about his own pleasure; tonight is all about you

Gives the absolute best aftercare you’ve ever had

If you want a bath, he draws you a bath and adds bubbles and/or salts

You want snacks? He’s running down to the kitchen to grab whatever he can find

Even if you just want to lay down and cuddle, he’ll be more than happy to hold you in his arms and ward off any lingering negative thoughts

Just a gentle reminder: Asmo will repeat this whole process as many times you need until you know how loved you are by him and you start feeling better 

[starfirette]

The Doris ™️ + Jealousy

✨this was requested by an anonymous after seeing a jealousy prompt over on @kaylenn ‘s blog. This anon also requested a bunch more Dori Sakurada things, which I’m excited to get to! This is just how they deal with jealousy in their own ✨dori✨ ways

✨no warnings!!!!!!

Masterlist | more dori sakurada and his characters | requests: closed ships: open

Daichi Shinozaki

Daichi is generally very good at not being jealous and overall being secure in his relationship with you

Considering last events, he’s learned how to deal with feeling jealous

There’s only one person that could make him angry and that’s Uehera.

If, for some reason, Uehera left Nao or made a pass at you, Daichi would be SO PISSED OFF

UEHERA HAD HIS CHANCE

Uehera has a record of making Daichi upset. Like when he abandoned Nao FOR HIS SISTER JN LAW??? WHEN SHE WAS ALL DRESSED UP!??

This isn’t the time or place for me to be talking about how strongly I believe Daichi and Nao were made to be together

Anyways

Daichi would suffer in silence

He’d low key step up Uehera’s, or anyone else’s, game by gifting you your favorite things and taking you on elaborate dates

He’d apologize for being jealous big time

He knows you wouldn’t be disloyal but that doesn’t mean that other guys don’t occasionally bother him

Mugi Awaya 

This HORNBALL

NO ONE CAN LOOK AT YOU OR ELSE

He’d be sooooo upset but in like a pouty, immature way

He’ll get sarcastic and get an attitude

Low key needs to be reassured

He doesn’t deal with jealousy well and I think we learned that from the entire show. If the show and manga meant anything at all it’s that Mugi is a jealous person by nature

He needs to possess you, mind and body

But not in a domineering way

More in a needy way

Hiroto Fukami

Oh honey oh no

Oh no oh no no no no no

Don’t ever let Hiroto see a man in your general presence because he’s so possessive

Of course he’s not dumb and he’s not going to fight every man he sees

But if there happens to be another guy that has made his desires clear, then he’s going to square up

Hiroto leaves massive hickies in places you can’t cover

Hiroto will drop you off at work or at your school campus and make an elaborate show of saying goodbye, giving you a steamy kiss, and sending you on your way

He will mark his territory, as best as he can

HE GIVES YIU A PROMISE RING

This is a general headcanon. He wouldn’t do this purely out of jealousy

The promise ring stays put until you’re ready to get engaged and then married

But you’re going to have to wear a ring regardless.

He’ll buy a big old diamond that NO ONE can miss on your left finger

Niragi Suguru

Oh sweet Jesus

Oh god

Don’t ever cheat on him

Don’t ever look at another person

Don’t do anything ever basically

This man is not a very great man, especially when it comes to him being a boyfriend.

He’s possessive and CRAZY

He is very in tune with your personality. He knows when you’re lying, or when you’re hiding something

If you were to ever see a hot guy, you might as well not look, because if you do, somehow, someway, Niragi will find out

Like Hiroto, he marks his territory

He’ll do ✨things✨ with you in places people are likely to hear or see y’all

He squares up so fast

And there’s one certain person who is forbidden to so much as glance at you when you walk in the room and yes that’s right it is Chishiya

COS THAT MAN IS HELLA HOT AND EVEN NIRAGI KNOWS IT

I don’t want to say this but Niragi would totally get violent with any guy who hits on you or disrespects you

He’ll smack you on the ass or kiss you roughly in a room filled with people just to prove a point

I can’t imagine anyone making a move on you since everyone knows who you “belong to”

Maybe a new guy??? Mostly everyone that comes to the beach is quickly made aware that you’re off limits

Pre Borderlands Niragi

Oh yeah this guy was once normal

Lol

He’D BE SO SAD AND SO EASILY JEALOUS UGH

He wants to be enough for you

So don’t ever look at anyone else

It’s this mindset that sorta makes him yandere during and post borderlands

PRE borderlands, he’s impossibly sweet and sensitive

Very attuned to your general aura so he can easily tell when you find another person attractive

To get rid of the aggressor, he’ll shyly hold your hand, say “I love you”, or even slip his hand in your back pocket

If he’s feeling particularly ✨spicy✨ then he’ll kiss you right in front of anyone

Dori Sakurada

Never jealous ever

Ever

He is aware of your beauty and charm

But he’s Dori fucking Sakurada

He knows when to be worried and when not to be

Whenever someone flirts blatantly with you he laughs it off and has to agree that you’re worth going after

He’s a very mild and tender person so he wouldn’t have an outrageous reaction

[binnieboyswhore]

SKZ as...

SKZ as giving you hickies Pairing: SKZ x reader Genre: Smut  Word count: 1,184 Warnings:Possessiveness ( i think that’s it but  if you find something that needs to be added please let me know!) Authors note: i actually quite love this and i wrote while listening to  a kpop love song playlist on youtube lol  Please if you are under the age of 18 do not interact. Thank you :)

Bang Chan: 

so i got the idea for this from this fic by @eboysvngie​ and i can’t stop thinking about how absolutely right they are. Chan loves to mark you up, sucking bruises into your skin is his favorite thing to do but he doesn’t like to leave them anywhere anyone else can see cause he would have a heart attack. Chan would rather set himself on fire than to have the boys know how rough he is with you. So instead he leaves them all around your upper thighs and pelvic area. Bruising you black and blue as you scream out as he fingers you. He loves that he can sneak looks at it when you climb in bed wearing just his shirt, lifting your leg exposing all the bruises. When you groan from the pain he can’t help but smile at you saying, “yes ma'am” while you give him a death glare at his cockyness

Minho: 

Minho isn’t that into marking you, he doesn’t necessarily hate it he just hates that they ruin your perfect body and when he plans on ruining you every night with his ropes you look tainted with the dark marks on your body. However, he’ll see you feeling Han’s muscles up after they get done practicing and start to feel territorial. He’d drag you home, pressing you up against the nearest wall once you’re inside, biting and sucking at your neck muttering things like, “You’re mine.”, “Now he’ll be able to see you’re mine.” and “I‘m gonna mark what's mine.”  just mine mine mine. You loved it, weaving your hand in his hair and pulling it. You loved being his his his. Although the next day when you came to pick Minho up from practice you’d be sitting between his legs, his arms wrapped around you, being clingy when Han sits down with y’all. He immediately notices the bruises from Minho's assault and his eyes bug out, “Oh my god what happened?” Minho just grabs you tighter.

Changbin: 

We all know this man is an ass man and I thrive off that. He would have you on all fours but with your face in the pillows, “What a pretty pussy.” he would say right before biting your ass cheek and working two of his fingers inside you. He would leave hickies all up and down your ass and the back of your thighs. Adding to the pleasure he’s giving you with his fingers making you scream out how good he made you feel. He feeds off this energy only getting rougher and rougher with you. Leaving hardly any room on you not marked by the time you come undone around is fingers. Seeing yourself in the mirror afterwards you whine at him, “Binnie, now I can't wear any skirts.” The next two weeks are spent sitting on his lap cause anywhere else hurts too bad and honestly you loved getting to tease him as payback.

Hyunjin: 

Hyunjin, my thigh lover. He would be all over them. He doesn’t do it to be discreet like Chan, he marks up your thighs cause there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. He loves stuffing his face between your legs, your underwear still on so he’s just paying attention to your thighs. He throws your legs over his shoulder so he can feel every squeeze and spasm his little bits give you. He slowly kisses up and down your thighs before he starts biting and sucking at them while digging his fingers into the outer sides of your thighs leaving crescent moon imprints in their wake. It drives you absolutely crazy how close he is to your core but refuses to pay attention to it, “Huynjinnie please I need you so bad.” you whine out.

Jisung: 

This man would hickie you from top to bottom, literally anywhere you said yes to as long as you could hide it with your clothes for work. His favorite place to leave hickies though was across your boobs. He loved leaving your chest looking like a dalmatian, so obedient for him. He loved that they made your boobs so sensitive that you would moan out adjusting your bra and that it made you extra whiny when he would titty fuck you. He loved how desperate it made you, constantly seeing the reminders of him made you text him all the time. You would send him pictures of them fading, “I need new ones baby :(“ and he would be on his way to your place with no hesitation.

Felix: 

This man is a man who is just so in love with love and with you. Everyday he wakes up and wonders what in the world he did to deserve you and thanks his stars he has you every night. He would always leave hickeys in the shape of hearts along your hip bones or your shoulder blades. They were like little love letters straight from his mouth to your skin and you loved to trace them over when he was gone or work had him there late. He often also let you leave one or two on him but you had to be careful to not put it anywhere obvious so you mostly opted to put them on his inner thigh. A place no one, especially fans would be able to see and if they did he could always excuse it away.

Seungmin: 

Like Minho, my boy is very territorial but less publicly so. He’d be taking his time with you, praising every inch of your body till he’s bruising an “S” into your stomach while you moan out with your hands tangled in his head. You didn’t even realize that's what he had done till you both were getting ready for work and you looked in the mirror with just your bra and underwear on. You trace it with your finger, in love with the way you were his and just his. He comes up behind you placing his hand over yours and his head on your shoulder giving your cheek a kiss and whispering, “Mine.”

IN: 

IN would love to give you nice soft hickies, I mean have you seen those lips? The gods made those lips for soft hickies and soft kisses and who is IN to deny the gods use of their creation? He would love to leave them around your collarbone while he’s thrusting into you during slow morning sex. He would mumble little I love you’s with sleep still in his eyes. Your body would feel overwhelmed with his cock stuffing you on top of his soft lips you wouldn’t know what to do. Your body would betray with coming undone sooner than either of you expected making IN giggle at you. Kissing you all over face he’d joke with you, “You don’t like me do you?” his cock still buried in you. You roll your eyes at him as he continues thrusting and leaving his little love bits all over your collarbone and chest. He was truly an angel hand crafted by the gods.