#through the atmosphere tbh

[sherlock-is-ace]

events just keep happening huh? they don't stop

[rarely--motivated]

shoutout to the rw Reclaiming Entropy mod. i want whatever the devs are on /pos

[moe-broey]

Man Labyrinth of Galleria: The Moon Society is an extremely fascinating game though like. Half Go In The Dark create your own guys dungeon crawler half visual novel that follows a main character that's just her own person. You watch her do her thing as she's settling into her new position as a witch's assistant and medium. IT'S SOOO FASCINATING because I feel like there's an underlying Thing here... how as the player, you have very little agency or say. In a game where you also Make Guys. But the guys are literal puppets brought to "life" that Eureka, main girl, has to See through as THEY explore the dungeon. The puppets have A Purpose, and do not really exist outside of that purpose. And then there's a Third thing going on. The spirit Eureka binds her soul with. Dubbed Fantie. That is the ONLY time you, as the player, seem to have any "say" and it's just three options (literally called Self Assertion if I'm remembering right) -- You can Affirm. Deny. Or be Silent. ALSO ALSO THE GAME HAS YOU ENTER A NAME IN THE VERY BEGINNING.... HEAVILY implying that your name might be Fantie's true name...

I'm not at all very far in it LMFAOO BUT... EXTREMELY FASCINATED BY THE THEMES HERE.......

[velvetjune]

completely unsurprising that Sam Lake loves Twin Peaks: The Return and how it involved Cooper

[hella1975]

👹LEAVE AMERICA👹

[crabbunch]

played persona 3 a few years back and it was literally life changing. reload came out an amount of time (??) ago but it was ugly and also i hated every single trailer i saw so im pretending it doesnt exist. was gifted p5 also a while back but i never got to the actual gameplay because the cutscenes annoyed me so bad. finally picked it up last week and well. haha. the story is bad. but sweeping every single enemy with my level 99 messiah picaro megidolan + almighty damage up + victory call is very satisfying so i'll probably finish it

[landossnorriss]

i see you - pt.2 | ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: lando and his lady make it through media day in spa. series links. Word Count: 1.4ishk Warning: some angst, some hurt, some healing, just the love and support i hope lando is getting tbh.

there were very few times that she was free to attend back to back races with lando. it was more often than not she tried to line up her time off so they could spend his breaks together but following hungary a few well placed phone calls had switched things around. anything that needed to be done critically was done so over zoom and the rest was simply put on pause.

she knew that lando felt bad about it, but the sure sign that he needed her was the way he had simply accepted her moving everything around without much of a fight. she had tried it before, after austria and a few other races and insisted that he would be fine on his own. when it had come down to it this week though and he tried to find the words to send her on her way and actually let her go and do her own thing the words he knew he should stay had stuck in his throat and instead he had found himself infinitely grateful to have her in his life.

things had been okay, bearable at least, whilst they had been in france with p and max. with his love around he hadn't needed to be on his phone too much and the noise had been easy to block out but when it had come to wednesday night and he had finally braved the storm his stomach had been left rolling.

the team orders that he had managed to silence were suddenly back and in full swing, the calls with andrea ever since the face had been loud and clear in his mind. he had been in calls for hours at this point, as they covered what he would and wouldn't say and in each of them lando had found himself wishing zak was around, someone in his corner but the message had been understood - you race for mclaren or you don't race at all.

lando had looked at her then, and that was when she had known she made the right call as he ended his meeting and she wrapped herself around him as tightly as she could. would she be able to kiss away the self doubt she could see creeping into the back of his mind? did they really think he had such a little shot at winning the wdc that they wouldn't give him that extra push to help him get there?

the real guilt had hit lando when he'd checked the news around oscars win and the headlines had painted him a villan. that much she knew he could have stomached on a normal day had it not been a dark cloud of sweet oscars first win. she'd reassured him as they laid in their bed trying to sleep before press day that it was going to be okay, that oscar understood but each time he managed to pull apart the differences in their wins. the atmosphere, the celebrations, the team spirit, each pieces he managed to pick at another blow to the carefully crafted shell he wore for the rest of the world.

as media day rolled around and the boarded their flight she stuck close to him, her fingers linked with his constantly as she questioned just how well he was going to wear that persona today. how much damage would each story he was forced to tell today do to him?

lando for the most part did what he needed to do, he wore the team name with a smile she knew didn't reach his eyes but the rest of the world would find beautiful anyway. "how are you holding up?" the question was loaded as she wrapped herself around him in a tight embrace, offering a beaming smile at the kiss he pressed to her nose, the driver determined to do everything he could to recharge in the small break he got for the day.

lando knew they were all waiting to tare him apart, he could see the doubt in each reporter's face when he had given his well rehearsed answers. but the guilt of clouding oscars win was genuine and he would do everything he could to back pedal that part at least. the team... well he didn't know how he felt about the team right now. "i'm tired, but eternally grateful that you're here you know?" he sighed as he lent on her with more of his body weight than he likely should be everything else was just so heavy he needed a minute to just, lean on her.

"want me to go into the next round of interviews? give me that cap and let me at em?"

lando could only raise a brow at her offer because he had been swiping her phone off her for the past two days to stop her from reaching out to post any of her thoughts and feelings on the weekend that had just gone. "no love, i think we're safer if you stick to being the best girl a guy could ask for." would he have been able to get through this weekend? he really wasn't sure. "is it mad i almost wish i could just say i didn't want to race this weekend?" he asked quietly, his thoughts just for her as his hands moved up and down her back a little.

she couldn't help the way her frown formed at the thought, she wasn't sure she had never known lando not want to race. ever. "don't let them win lando." not stella, not the media, not anyone that was doubting him at this point could undo what they were doing to him. how could they not see that? "you're p2 lan, you did that, not your team no one gifted you a damn fucking thing, you'd be much closer to p1 if you had a team that worked with you and this weekend was shitty but it doesn't define who you are as a racer ok?" that much she would not budge on.

letting his face soften lando nodded as he buried his head in her neck for a moment, taking in everything about her that kept him grounded. he truly didn't know what he would do without her here this weekend, press day was bad enough without the thought of having to do it all alone and the results this weekend. god if he won it was going to cause more harm for the team, more shit for osc, if he lost it was only going to validate everything that people had been saying to him about miami. "you're right i just...tell me you see me?" so much of this week already felt so perfectly crafted he needed to know, there was one person that still saw everything.

she felt her heart break all over again at the request and whilst it had been a long standing mission to make this man feel so loved, the desire to do so only increased as her eyes locked onto his ocean green ones. "lando norris, i see you, i adore every single part of you and i will protect you with every part of me do you understand, not a single thing that happens this weekend defines anything about you if it's outside of your control. do you see you too my love?" pressing to her toes she let her lips capture his softly, her nose scrunching at him slightly with a face that usually set him off into giggles.

today the slight chuckle he could muster for her was enough. "i'm working on it." seeing himself the way she did, was the hardest part of it all. "just a few more bits and we're out of here love." all he wanted was more time to sleep and wrap himself in her.

"i'm going to head to the hotel, get us pizza, get notting hill set up, text me when you're ten minutes away and i'll meet you in the shower?" she offered lightly as he reluctantly pulled away from her. "i'm going to kiss every single inch of you i love." and she'd do it on repeat all night till he believed her too.

giving a low groan lando nodded, the description of their evening his very definition of perfection when he was feeling like this. "i still do know what i did to deserve you, i shouldn't be too much longer and we'll all be being driven back." he nodded as he straightened himself out, making sure his hat was back in place as he looked out to where people were milling. "wish me luck baby?" he hesitated, fingers drumming on the door as he lingered to keep sight of her.

"you don't need luck baby, you're lando fucking norris."

*pics from landoupdates <3

[sheoh]

Who in Ateez Is Most Gentle In Bed? 

Gentle  

San

Yeosang 

Jongho 

Seonghwa 

Mingi 

Hongjoong 

Yunho 

Wooyoung 

Rough

I truly believe San would be the most gentle lover. He would never want to hurt you EVER. especially during sex. I feel like even if you asked him to be a little rough with you he’d be VERY hesitant, or at least a little awkward as he attempted to regulate exactly how much strength you could take. you'd have to really communicate with him about it because he knows his strength could possibly really hurt you. Sometimes when you are making out he’d be a little forward or rough (the kind to push you up against the wall but protect your head and neck the entire time) he’d always take extra care to not inflict any pain on you. When kissing, San likes to put his hand over your throat, but he never implements a significant amount of strength. It kinda sits there teasing you, leaving you wanting more. he would find it cute if you did it to him but a little rougher (to show him how you actually wanted it) and ultimately wouldn't go through with it tbh lol. he likes the idea of exerting power over you but is extremely gentle in his way of doing it. When you're riding him and he’s close to cumming, he’d debate losing control, flipping you right on your back and fucking you hard and fast just to please himself (which he might just do if the atmosphere is right) but he always puts your pleasure and comfort over his own. if he notices that you're enjoying yourself, he will likely just squeeze your ass, praise you for doing so well between open-mouthed moans and roll his eyes back while you milk his cock slow and steady. 

Yeosang is naturally a very gentle person. I feel like that wouldn’t change much even with his partner. He’d acknowledge that sex doesn’t always have to be slow and gentle and take into consideration your wants as his partner. when you reach a certain point in the relationship he'd almost expect to start fucking baselessly for pleasure rather than to have a deeper connection—ofc he would never directly bring this up, and if it didn't happen he would think he was doing something wrong. He’d find himself slowly being more rough with you to see the reaction it draws out. Things like pushing your hips all the way down while you’re riding him and holding them there for a few seconds too long. Unlike San, who has sex in an intimate, gentle, and loving way most of the time, Yeosang feels that pleasurable sex is both gentle and rough and desires both sides. Whatever you’re comfortable with, so is he—but it’ll take some time for him to open up sexually and be rough with you for the sake of his own needs. His “rough side” is pretty low-key. He isn’t too freaky but I can see him being into things that exert his strength and masculinity. Like lifting you up and down on his cock while standing or you on your knees in front of him, in pretty lingerie giving him head. I can definitely see him grabbing your hair and guiding your head back and forth on his dick. 

Jongho is very aware of how strong he is and what he can do to you. He’s not necessarily overly rough or overly gentle with you. But he’s definitely not afraid to play fight with you and show you who's the stronger one. I believe Jongho is just a gentle person in general. His strength is very fixed so whether he’s angered or reaching his climax inside you, it’s rare for him to “lose control” or be rough on accident. I don’t think he likes hurting you in any way during sex, he might even be opposed to it. He would consider it if you asked him but as far as feeling pleasure from it-- isn’t necessarily his thing. If you got off on it, he’d be more into the fact that you are. Wrapping his hand around your throat during your high, and forcefully holding your hands behind your back as he gave you back shots are things he’d try but I just think he likes the idea of gentle loving sex more. The reason he’s under Yeosang, despite not really being into it as much, is because he could seriously fuck you senseless if he wanted. He has the control to give you exactly what you want, and well.

Just like San, Seonghwa is very gentle towards his lover. But unlike San, he’s down and very open to the freaky stuff. If you want to do it, so does he. I don’t see him ever being purposely rough with you unless you directly asked him and he knew you’d return the same energy. Even when he’s at his climax about to cum, a whimpering mess on top of you, he’d find himself holding back a bit. Putting in the effort to pleasure you without expecting you to do it in return. gripping the sheets instead of your hair as you suck him off (unless ofc you wanted him to). I can see him holding back your hair while you give him head, staring down so intently at your lips as they wrapped around his cock. The type to touch your body like it was made of glass, but fuck and eat you out like you are anything but. Seonghwa is a very gentle person too but he likes being able to be rough with you and try new things sexually. 

Mingi is kind of laid back when it comes to the physical and sexual side of a relationship. Things like caressing your thigh, kissing your neck, or just touching you all the time is his love language and aren’t always meant to be sexual. Which is why it’s sometimes hard to tell when he’s horny or just harmlessly flirting. Those kisses and touches come naturally during sex with him because it is nothing new. But of course, when he’s more aroused he tends to be unconsciously rougher—kissing you passionately instead of lazily, tightening his grip on your waist harder and harder as you grind on his erection—and being overly gentle with you after he realizes what he was doing. Mingi is seriously a gentle giant but when he’s comfortable enough, being playful or in the moment, he can sometimes forget how much strength he has and how easily he can break you. I don't think he likes being rough but it does happen whether he intends or not. I can't see him going as far as to choke you or use sex toys. rather something low-key like biting you or completely slam-dunking you onto the bed in attempts to impress you. He doesn't like you being overly rough with him either. like hair pulling or scratching his back so hard you leave marks because he is a princess after all.

Hongjoong isn't exactly rough or gentle–somewhere in between. He does like exerting dominance during sex though, which may lead to him being more bossy or rough. but naturally, he’s pretty sensual and wants you both to be relaxed and comfortable. When experimenting sexually with him, which happens quite often, he tends to talk you through it and ask how he's doing. If you want it rougher he’ll go rougher, but if it's too much for you he’ll stop immediately, ask if you’re ok, and take a mental note. Communication is key with him, you have to tell him what you want and he'll do whatever pleases you. I don't think Hongjoong particularly likes or even considers receiving/giving pain during sex, but he is sometimes (accidentally) a little rough. When he pushes your legs open a little too harshly to go down on you or is about to cum and begins franticly pounding into you from his once steady pace. he is a bit confused as to why you wanted him to do it more, but he actually lowkey likes it. he finds himself liking the feeling of you doing exactly what he says. sitting down and opening your mouth for his cock exactly when he tells you. Again, this dominance can lead to him being rougher with you but it's not on purpose...i don't think

Yunho has a lot of layers in a relationship. His more sensual side is particularly special because it’s something you rarely see. I don’t think Yunho is overly gentle but I do think he's aware of his size and strength enough to never accidentally use it during an intimate time like sex. In moments when he thinks you’d like it a bit rougher, he’d play along. I think he might even enjoy being rough with you and the power he has doing it. Using his body to pin you down on the bed, using his strength to stop you from getting off his lap bc he wants you to stay longer, using his significantly larger hands to pin them above your head as he kisses you. Yunho is possessive and takes that out on you in bed especially. Yunho sees sex as mainly something to fulfill pleasure, so jealous sex, sex after being away from each other for a while, and sex after a fancy dinner date when you're all dressed up–are things that really get him going and more rough and needy for you. When you tell him to go rougher he’d do it without hesitation. Tell him to choke you and he’d flash a smirk down at you before wrapping his large hands over your throat and squeezing. He’d continue to be rough with you unless you say otherwise but he knows your limits and is very careful not to go too far. 

Last but not least our sadist Wooyoung. He’s not gentle in bed. He loves when you’re rough with him and acts rough with you in return. He loves fucking you so hard and fast from the back and slapping your ass as you moan out his name. He likes when you yell and whine to him about something stupid he did just so he can apologize by giving you the sloppiest head of your life. Pull his hair, tell him to wrap his hands around your throat and he’ll get off on watching you and seeing just how much you can take before you "admit defeat". for toys and kinky objects I can see him wanting to try them if you like or dislike them. The only time I see him being gentle in particular is when eating you out, he would be gentle and sensual, trying to tease you and make you beg him to go faster and harder—ofc he he won’t do it. but this doesn’t always happen, he’ll often moan into sloppy wet kisses on your cunt, move his fingers quickly in and out of you, grip your thighs so hard to keep you still it leaves marks. He’d sometimes kiss you gently and slowly when the kiss isn’t really leading to anything. If you got him a gift for his birthday, he’d thank you with the sweetest, slowest, most gentle kiss. You feel so much when he kisses you like this because it doesn’t happen often.

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (7)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the tag list just add your username to this DOC

word count | 6,1k words

summary | you leave for the reach, angsty love confession, false rumors travel to king's landing.

tags | (MDNI), SMUT, unprotected sex (this is asoiaf so all sex is unprotected), p in v, death, heavy angst/NO COMFORT, vampire powers, heavy miscommunication

note | I'd be really interested in knowing if you guys made a name for the reader, in my head her name is Krystyna Mikaelson (yes, I googled norse names and chose my fav) So did anyone else read George R.R Martin's blog??? Anyway, I'm just here for Ewan, Olivia and Phia tbh. I was thinking that reader could be a witch. Like I know witches can't be vampires, but Siphoners can. Like just imagine her father was from a Gemini coven, and she doesn't know she has magic and since she's an original, she's her own power source, hence first heretic.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

You had woven yourself into a web of deception, and now, the strands began to unravel. The Hand’s summons rang ominously in your ears, commanding you to escort Prince Jaehaerys to your so-called "home" in the Reach. Yet, the truth was far less straightforward; your true home lay not within the verdant fields of the Reach, nor did it belong to this mortal realm at all.

Time pressed against you—tonight, you would depart from Kings Landing. What could you possibly say to the watchful White Cloaks accompanying you? The question gnawed at you, demanding a rapid strategy as you struggled to quell your rising panic.

For the moment, the Hand had instructed you to gather only your essentials. As the hour of the wolf approached, you prepared to meet the call at the courtyard and bid a bittersweet farewell.

Your hands moved with urgency, tossing your cherished Mikaelson amulet into a trunk, alongside an array of simple dresses that would serve you for the arduous journey ahead. But amidst the flurry of preparation, the creaking of your chamber doors momentarily pierced through your focus. The air thickened with the unmistakable scent that sent a thrill down your spine, a presence you knew too well.

Stubbornly, you continued to pack, resolutely ignoring his entrance. You were a fool playing a game rigged against you—fostering feelings for a prince destined for a mortal being. Unlike your sister Rebekah, who pinned her affections upon every charming face, you fought against the tide of your own heart. Yet, in the shadows of your denial, an undeniable pull towards Aemond Targaryen had ensnared you, leaving you trapped in a whirlwind of desire and longing.

“I knew something would eventually go awry,” he murmured from the shadows, his tone laden with the weight of foresight.

You stubbornly continued to gather your belongings, your hands trembling ever so slightly. “I know not of what you speak,” you replied, defiance lacing your words like poison.

The atmosphere shifted as Aemond crossed the threshold, his presence a storm—intangible yet fierce. You felt the warmth radiating off him, enveloping you as he positioned himself behind you, the scent of dragonfire and leather filling your senses. “Whenever I find a fleeting moment of happiness, it is whisked away quicker than it appeared. The day I claimed Vhagar, and now, as I stand here with you,” his voice wavered, betraying an edge of vulnerability.

You clenched your jaw, a frown creasing your delicate features as an unbidden ache tightened around your heart. “I do not know how long I shall be gone,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Strong hands found your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his chest, a silent promise wrapped around you as he whispered, “It matters not; I shall await your return, no matter how long it may take.”

With a pained sigh, you turned to confront him, your eyes glistening with unspoken sorrow. “You shouldn't.”

Aemond's brow furrowed, confusion etched across his handsome face as he tightened his grip, unwilling to let you slip away. “Why would you utter such foolishness?”

Your insides twisted as you longed to lay bare the truth that lay heavy on your heart. A truth about your eternal curse—a vampire destined to walk the earth forever, but never to grow old alongside him, to bear him no heirs. Instead, you shook your head, you voice trembling as you whispered, “A prince cannot wed a bastard.”

His brow knitted deeper in perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“I am not my father's daughter,” you confessed, the words tasted bitter as they left your lips. “And that alone should be reason enough for you to forsake any thought of marrying me.”

The admission struck you like a blade, a noose tightening around your spirit. Aemond’s disdain for bastards echoed hauntingly in your mind—his vitriol directed at those he deemed unworthy. If claiming your own truth was the only path to forging a distance between the two of you, then so be it. You would bear the burden of his scorn, if it meant sparing him from the shadows that clung to your existence.

In a flicker of desperation, you realized the power you held—the gift of compulsion. You could erase every whispered promise and shared secret, rendering him a stranger to your existence. Yet, the thought pierced your heart like a dagger; to be forgotten was a torment worse than heartbreak. Aemond’s scorn would be a balm compared to losing him entirely, for you would rather endure his hatred than vanish from his memory.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for the inevitable scorn, the revulsion you feared would pour forth from his lips. Instead, you felt his hands, warm and tender, gripping your face with an intensity that stole your breath. “Look at me,” he urged, his voice a gentle command.

With reluctance, you opened her eyes, meeting his piercing violet gaze that seemed to see through to your very essence. "I do not care," he declared, as though his unwavering love could alone mend the fractures within your heart.

A tidal wave of anger surged through you—not directed at him, but ignited by the very depth of his relentless love. With a swift motion, you pushed him away, desperation fueling your words as they spilled forth like a torrent. “You should care! You must understand, Aemond— I am not good for you, and I am certainly not worthy of your love.”

Aemond’s frustration prickled in the air as he gestured animatedly, his brows knitting together as if you had unleashed a storm within him. “And who are you to declare yourself unworthy? Do you think Aegon worthy of the Iron Throne?”

You let out a derisive scoff, the incredulity igniting your tone. "Comparing me to Aegon? That is a completely different situation," you stressed, your words punctuated with defiance.

"I cannot fathom your urge to push me away," Aemond's voice rose, desperation lacing his every syllable. The calm mask he wore shattered, revealing the turmoil beneath. “Is it because you do not love me?”

The weight of his question struck you like a lightning bolt. You could feel the tears welling, and you felt the weight of your own heart as it threatened to overflow. Unconsciously, you yelled, “Of course I love you, Aemond! How could I not," The urgency in your voice rose, a plea wrapped in desperation. “But what you fail to grasp is—”

“You love me," All traces of anger evaporated from his expression; instead, a spark of something else ignited in his eyes as he latched onto your statement.

You faltered, momentarily confused. “What?”

“You love me,” he echoed, his voice rising with fervor, amplifying the truth hanging in the air like a spell.

With a scoff, you shook her head, trying to dismiss the revelation. “That is not the point of the matter, Aemond—”

“It is indeed the point,” he countered, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, cradling your face in his hands. “Because you love me, and I love you.”

A weary sigh escaped your lips, the weight of his insistence pressing down on you. “Aemond, you’re not hearing me.”

“I am,” he replied earnestly, his thumbs brushing softly against your cheek, “I hear you, and yet your heart speaks a truth that cannot be silenced: you love me.”

And as Aemond leaned closer, that fierce violet eye consuming your own, your defenses began to crumble. His lips brushed against yours, igniting a spark that uncoiled like wildfire within you. Resistance became a ghost, fading in the heat of your shared breath as your mouths melded together. Aemond's tongue slid past your lips, a tantalizing invasion, and you found herself yielding to the irresistible pull of desire, your essences intertwining in a dance as ancient as the realms you inhabited.

With each caress from his skilled hands, the world around you faded into oblivion, thoughts dispersing like ash in the wind. You clutched at his neck, your fingers tangling in his silver locks as you deepened your kiss, hungry for more. Aemond's grip roamed boldly across your form, igniting a fire beneath your skin that made your pulse quicken—a symphony of passion building between the two of you. You could feel the unmistakable hardness of his desire pressing against you, stirring a yearning that enveloped you.

As the kiss broke, your breaths mingled, thick with anticipation. Aemond trailed hot kisses along the delicate curve of your neck, his lips sending tremors through your body. A gasp escaped your lips as he scooped you up with effortless strength, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your body fitting perfectly against his as he pressed you closer. Your bodies met, his erection unmistakable even through the barriers of your clothing, igniting a primal need that demanded resolution.

He carried you to the nearest table, as he laid you down, the cool surface contrasted with the heat emanating from your bodies. Aemond’s fingers deftly hiked up the hem of your dress, each inch sending electric thrills along your spine, leaving your breathless.

"Do you want this?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with a primal urgency that stirred something deep within you, all of your hesitation gone.

With languid desire pooling in between your legs, you yielded, your desperation spilling over into your voice as you breathed, "Take me now, Aemond. I wish to feel you in me, even after I've departed."

His response to your words was immediate and animalistic, a predatory instinct awakened. A growl rumbled deep in his chest, words lost to the fervor that gripped him. Like a tempest unleashed, he tore away the delicate fabric that separated the two of you, casting it aside with a fervent urgency. His fingers deftly unfastened the laces of his trousers, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

In an instant, he pulled you closer, your bodies colliding with an electric urgency. The tip of his cock grazed your slick heat, a tantalizing tease that sent ripples of desire coursing through your veins. With each passing moment, your body ached for him, the need swelling within you like a tide crashing against the shore.

“Please,” you breathed, your tone rich with longing, “I cannot wait any longer.”

Before you could utter another plea, Aemond surged forward, his curved tip breaking through the barrier of your softness. Moments stretched into eternity as he filled you, a divine sensation that stole your breath. It felt like fire and ice intertwined, the ecstasy consuming you both.

As you joined together, he leaned over you, your faces mere breaths apart. His lips found yours, capturing the essence of your fervent connection in a searing kiss that tasted of bloodlust and boundless craving.

You were not a creature of restraint, especially not in the heat of the moment. With a sly, vixen-like grace, you entwined her legs around Aemond's waist, ensnaring him effortlessly. The force of your pull sent him slamming into you, your bodies colliding with a fervor that made the very air sizzle with electric desire. Aemond groaned, a primal growl escaping his lips as he felt the intoxicating warmth envelop him completely; he was ensnared by you as if caught in a hunter's trap.

Your soft moans echoed like a siren's song, urging Aemond on as your lips trailed kisses down the cool expanse of his alabaster skin. Each kiss was deliberate; it was a tantalizing dance between temptation and control. Your fangs tingled with the hunger for his fiery dragon blood, simmering ever closer to the surface, but for now, you quelled that urge with sheer willpower.

Yet Aemond, with his predatory instincts ignited, began to thrust into you with a relentless rhythm, your flesh meeting with a damp slap that resonated through the great hall like a heartbeat as Aemond thrust himself into your cunt over and over. The air thickened with the sweet scent of lust, pleasure, and something darker that lingered in the wake of your intensity.

“When will you truly understand?” Aemond rasped, his breath quickening as he plunged into you with fervor. The rhythmic, wet sounds reverberated softly in the room, his hand finding its way to your most sensitive spot, teasing your clit with skilled flicks. “You were made for me, just as I was for you.”

Pleasure surged through your veins, overwhelming your senses as you murmured, “I love you.”

With deliberate movements, Aemond traced slow, firm circles on your pearl, lowering his body closer to yours as he whispered against your lips, “I love you.”

A soft whine escaped your lips as your body tightened around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you in a blinding storm of sensation. Aemond was drawn to your peak, his own release spiraling just behind yours. He let out a deep groan, his essence spilling inside you as he collapsed against you, panting, entirely lost in the moment.

You felt Aemond's warm breath against your skin as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Nuhon,” he murmured, his words carrying an electricity that entwined your very essence with his. (Mine)

For a fleeting moment, you tightened your grip on him, reluctant to sever the bond that pulsed between you. Yet, time was against you, and Aemond slowly withdrew himself, his gaze piercing into yours, leaving an ache in the space inside you. A soft gasp escaped your lips; the void he left behind felt cavernous, devoid of his heat, as you only felt emptiness.

Silently, you watched as he regained his composure, the delicate dance of his fingers deftly lacing his trousers. As he turned, casting his attentive eye around the chamber, he picked up a handkerchief with a gentle touch.

What followed was an act more intimate than what the two of you had just done—the careful way he wiped away the remnants of your shared passion felt surreal. Aemond's hands were gentle, almost reverent, as he smoothed your skirts back into place, making you feel cherished in a way that transcended the physical.

His hands found their home on your waist, solid yet gentle, your fingers instinctively wrapping around his shoulders. With a graceful lift, he eased you from the tabletop, setting you down on the cold stone floor. His gaze shifted downwards, landing on your stomach, and a wave of panic surged through you, yet you instinctively placed your hand over your stomach, wishing to shield it from his penetrating stare.

“You must drink moon tea before you depart,” he murmured, his voice laced with a trace of regret, as though he carried the weight of unspoken truths.

A harsh swallow caught in your throat. It was an empty act for you to do, as your womb lay barren, yet the implications of his words hung heavy in the air. You turned your gaze away from him, a flicker of vulnerability dancing across your features, and nodded nonetheless.

His hand, warm and reassuring, cupped your cheek, gently guiding your eyes back to his. "I shall fetch some for you. Wait here, I will return shortly."

Silently, you nodded, feeling the electrifying brush of his lips against yours in a fleeting kiss, a soft collision of breath that sent shivers through your being. It was a moment suspended in time, brief yet profound, leaving you yearning for more. But before you could fully savor it, he withdrew, leaving your chambers cloaked in the bittersweet essence of his absence.

You busied yourself, gathering the few belongings you possessed, when Aemond returned with striking swiftness. A sense of discomfort washed over you as you drank the vile tea, acutely aware of his watchful eye.

After a brief silence, you dared to glance up at him, a question dancing on your lips. "Do you intend to escort me to the courtyard?"

His gaze remained piercing, an unwavering ember in the flickering light. "Indeed," he replied with a hum that resonated between you.

A sigh escaped you as you reached for your trunk of belongings, but before you could grasp it, Aemond’s hand was there, lifting it away with a possessive ease. A small spark of frustration flickered within you, yet words eluded your lips as you and he made your way through the dim hallways toward the courtyard.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and palpable, each lost in private thoughts as you pushed open the grand doors leading into the courtyard. A sea of anxious faces greeted you, their attention fixed squarely on your arrival.

Shame washed over you as you realized you were the last to come forth, and with Aemond at your side, the scrutiny felt even more intensified. Yet, this was a moment that demanded courage. You squared your shoulders and set your gaze ahead, making your way toward Helaena.

Her eyes danced with sorrow as she stepped forward, cradling her sleeping son, and placing him tenderly into your arms. You held him protectively, your voice dropping to a fervent whisper. “I promise I shall protect him with my life.”

Helaena's expression softened, her hand gently caressing the boy’s delicate face before nodding in earnest agreement. As you turned, your gaze met Aegon’s, his watchful eyes drilling into you, fixated on the sleeping prince nestled securely in your embrace.

With a steadying breath, you made your way toward the carriage, but a hand on your shoulder halted your steps. You turned to find Alicent, her eyes reflecting a sadness that tugged at your heart. She offered you a tight smile, squeezing your shoulder in a gesture of support. “You’re performing a great service for the crown,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. You could only nod in acknowledgment as she added softly, “Promise me you’ll look after yourself.”

“Of course, My Queen,” you murmured, tightening your hold on Jaehaerys, his warmth a comforting presence against your chest.

Her smile deepened, and she said, "I will pray for the safety of both you and Jaehaerys."

“Thank you, Queen Mother,” your heart swelled at her words, while you whispered the word 'mother' as if it was sacred.

As you stepped into the carriage, you turned once more, your gaze locking with Aemond’s, unspoken words hung heavy in the air between you. Just then, a white cloak swept to close the door, sealing you and the sleeping prince in an intimate cocoon of silence.

When Jaehaerys stirred awake, panic etched across his delicate features, his bright violet eyes wide with confusion, had required an abundance of soft whispers and lots of patience from you. With tenderness, you had reassured him, carefully explaining the necessity of his departure, a necessary measure for his safety.

“What of Jaehaera?” he inquired, his voice laced with anxiety as he searched your face for answers.

A frown tugged at your lips as you deliberated, knowing the harsh truth—that his life must take precedence, for he was the heir. Instead, you offered a gentle smile, fabricating a reassuring lie. “She is being taken somewhere else, my Prince.”

“And Shrykos?” the small prince pressed, his tiny hands fiddling with one of the lemon cakes hastily packed in by the Queen Dowager.

You gazed down at Jaehaerys, who nestled against your side, “Shrykos and Morghul will remain safe within the Dragonpit,” you whispered softly.

A deep sigh escaped him, a pout forming on his lips as he burrowed deeper into your embrace. “I've never been away from Mama or Jaehaera before..." he murmured, his small frame trembling with a mix of fear and longing.

Wrapping an arm around him, you tightened your hold, "Fear not, my prince. I will keep you safe. And soon, you will be reunited with them," you murmured.

You were suffocating in boredom. Two endless days cooped inside this rickety carriage left you feeling more drained than when you began. The road to Highgarden loomed ahead, a serpentine path promising nearly a month's worth of dreary travel. Restlessness gnawed at you, a specter whispering in your ear, as you devised a plan.

Murdering the three White Cloaks tasked with your escort was an appealing thought. Yes, it would be regrettable, but the crude vulgarities spilling from their lips, laced with the foulest lechery as they leered at you, twisted the notion into something almost justifiable.

Once the deed was done, once the lifeblood of those pompous guards stained the earth beneath you, you would take Jaehaerys and make your way back to King's Landing. You would craft a tale of treachery—how you were ambushed by Rhaenyra's sympathizers, forcing you to retreat and return.

As Jaehaerys slept peacefully beside you, his form curled like a contented cat, you decided now was the best time to act. With delicate care, you shifted him onto his back, ensuring he remained undisturbed. You then directed your attention to the partition that separated your lavish prison from the brutish guards beyond.

With a purposeful knock, you roused their attention, your senses heightened, attuned to the disgruntled murmurs that reached your ears as the carriage shuddered to a halt. The door swung open abruptly, revealing Ser Loren, his face taut with irritation, the kind one might expect of a man dragged from the warmth of the sun into the chill of night.

“What,” he snapped, brows furrowing with annoyance, the tone of a man used to being in command.

In response, you offered him an enchanting smile, sweet as nectar dripping from a ripe fruit, and raised a hand to cup his cheek. The confusion flitted across his features, but your grip was steadfast as you redirected his gaze to meet yours.

“Ser Loren,” you murmured, the subtle power of your compulsion thrumming through you like a siren's song. “I need you to slay your fellow guards for me.”

His eyes widened, the flicker of uncertainty sparking a thrill within you. Yet, you tightened your hold, your voice dropping to a velvety whisper as you compelled him anew. “Do not utter a word,” you commanded softly. “You will carry out my will without hesitation, and when that is done…you shall take your own life.”

“Now go,” you urged, the finality of your words binding him as surely as any ancient spell.

As he departed, you closed the door with a soft click and settled back beside the peacefully slumbering Jaehaerys, the anticipation coursing through you like a potent elixir. Through your enhanced hearing, you could make out Ser Loren’s hesitant movements as he drew his sword. The air was thick with tension as you tuned into the muffled voices of his comrades, their puzzled murmurs a prelude to chaos.

Then came the dreadful sound of steel meeting flesh, followed by the piercing screams of two men, echoing in stark contrast to the quiet of your carriage. The ritual continued—a whimper preceding yet another stinging strike of blade on flesh—until an oppressive silence fell, wrapping around you like a shroud.

Rising to your feet, you opened the door and stepped out into the chaos. The sight that met your eyes was macabre: the fallen guards lay sprawled upon the ground, their once-pristine white cloaks now marred with blood, a stark contrast to the pale of their skin. Only the soft whicker of the horses broke the stillness.

With a satisfied hum, you turned your attention back to the carriage, intent on retrieving Jaehaerys. By horseback, you would make your way back to King’s Landing. Slipping back inside, you knelt beside the sleeping prince, your heart sinking as you perceived an ominous shift in Jaehaerys.

Gently placing your hand against his brow, a frown twisted your features upon feeling his rising temperature. Panic bubbled within you as realization struck: the boy was burning with fever, likely the consequence of his first venture beyond the castle walls. His frail immune system was struggling against the onslaught of illness. Children, as you knew all too well, were vulnerable, and fevers could turn grave in the blink of an eye.

Time was of the essence; you needed to find safety for him, a sanctuary where he could heal swiftly.

With care, you gathered him into your arms, cocooning him in a soft blanket to protect his fragile form. Then, you climbed onto a horse with him nestled closely against you. Urging the steed forward, you set your sights on the nearest village, aware that King’s Landing would have to wait—your priority was the precious life cradled in your embrace.

What you were blissfully unaware of was how swiftly whispers of three slain white cloaks would flutter to the ear of King's Landing. Such is the nature of tidings that venture too far from their origin—truth, like shadows, warps in the light of rumor.

What reached the capital painted a grim picture: three white cloaks brutally cut down, their carriage reduced to cinders, with the lady and the prince within consumed by flames. Perhaps there lay some truth to this tale; after you'd fled with Prince Jaehaerys, desperate commoners stumbled upon your carriage, and in their frenzy, laid it to waste.

And so, that account flew to King's Landing with the swiftness of a raven on the wing.

"He's dead," Aegon breathed, his voice thick with disbelief, as he struggled to absorb the weight of the news. "He's dead!"

In a fit of rage, Aegon hurled a glass goblet against the stone wall, shattering it into a thousand shards, his fury echoing within the council chamber. "I’ll kill them all!"

He pounded the table with sufficient force that the goblets rattled, while the rest of the council sat in stunned silence, their eyes upon him. "This is war! I declare war! I declare war!" His voice rose, raw and strident.

With cheeks flushed and a face streaked with remnants of tears, Aegon turned to his Grandsire, his expression a tempest of anger and anguish. "This is your doing! All of this is your fault!"

Alicent, glancing nervously between her father and her son, sought to defuse the tension crackling in the air. "He did not kill Jaehaerys, Aegon," she insisted softly, her voice trembling with urgency.

"No! He merely sent him forth to meet his doom!" Aegon shouted, his despair morphing into a howling tempest.

Otto's gaze remained steady but weary as he leaned back in his seat, allowing a heavy sigh to escape him. "It was a miscalculation on my part."

"A miscalculation that cost my son's life!" Aegon's anguished cry reverberated through the chamber.

"And yet, no one was privy to Jaehaerys’ departure, which suggests treachery lies among us," Lord Larys Strong observed softly, his voice laced with a chilling certainty.

Aegon turned his gaze to the council, suspicion etching lines on his youthful face. "Then it could very well be any one of you!" He thrust a finger towards the council members, prowling behind the table as a predator.

“While Lord Larys raises a point of merit,” Otto continued, as Aegon sank heavily into the head chair, the weight of his grief palpable as tears fell freely down his cheeks, “Jaehaerys will do more for us now than a thousand knights in battle. You will have your war, Your Grace. But if you wait a short time, you may yet double your strength.”

"Mother," Aegon whispered, his voice a fragile wisp swirling in the air, laden with unshed sorrow and searching for comfort.

Alicent stepped closer, her hand settling gently on her son’s shoulder. "The Hand sets on a difficult path, my darling, but it, it might be the right one."

Otto, with an air of finality, declared, "Let us continue with the funeral procession for Jaehaerys. He shall be honored with a grand casket, and riding behind it, the Queen, and with her, the Queen Dowager."

Alicent shook her head in disagreement. "No, I no longer wish for it to become some grand spectacle."

“The realm must see the sorrow of the crown,” Otto asserted, his tone brooking no argument, “a sorrow best expressed through its most gentle souls.”

Casting one last mournful glance at her son, Alicent firmed her resolve. “I think you’ll all agree the king himself must be spared.”

“No. No. It cannot be true,” Helaena whispered, her voice barely above a breath, as she shook her head in disbelief. Alicent stepped forward, the weight of the grim tidings looming over her like a storm cloud, heavy with sorrow.

“The carriage… it was consumed by flames,” Alicent spoke, her voice trembling with the pain of the knowledge she bore.

Helaena’s denial tightened its grip on her heart; she paced restlessly, the fabric of her gown whispering against the stone floor. “She promised me,” Memories of warm embraces and gentle reassurances echoed in her mind, each one a testament to the promise that now lay shattered, “She swore she would protect him.”

“Helaena—” Alicent's hand reached out, a mother’s instinct to comfort surging forth.

Yet Helaena recoiled from the touch, wrestling her emotions. “They are alive, I can feel it,” she insisted, the desperation in her voice soaring.

“There were no survivors,” Alicent replied, her tone heavy with the weight of acceptance, an acceptance that felt like betrayal.

Helaena’s eyes glistened with tears as she twisted her fingers together, seeking solace in their familiar dance. Alicent took a deep breath, gathering herself before adding, “The funeral for Jaehaerys will go on as planned, and… we’ve been asked to ride on a wagon throughout the city.”

With a swift turn, Helaena faced away from her mother, leaning against a sturdy timber beam that framed her bed. “I don’t want to,” she murmured, her voice defiant yet frayed.

Alicent’s expression twisted with empathy; she understood her daughter’s pain all too well. “Neither do I,” she admitted, her heart heavy with the weight of duty. “But when a thing like this happens… a blow to the king is a blow to the realm. When the people share our grief, they draw closer to us.”

“I don’t want them closer,” Helaena shot back, “I don't know them.”

“Sometimes, we have to pretend,” Alicent whispered.

Defiance shattered, the tears Helaena had valiantly held at bay now cascaded down her cheeks. The truth settled in her chest like a stone. “Why?” she questioned, her voice choked with pain.

Alicent stepped closer, “We are representatives of the throne. We have a duty,” she reaffirmed.

Helaena offered no reply, her silence a testament to her grief. Instead, she turned away, allowing her tears to flow freely as she braced herself to mourn not only the loss of her son but the fading light of her dearest friend.

You were dead.

Those haunting words echoed relentlessly in Aemond's mind, a cruel mantra he could not shake off. You were gone, and he would never again behold your celestial beauty, nor bask in the warmth of your radiant smile. The soft comfort of your embrace, which had always been his sanctuary, was lost to him forever. You were gone, and with that, the future he had imagined—a life entwined with yours, filled with laughter, children, and the tender joys of family—vanished into the ether.

He knew he should have fought against the tides of fate, should have raised his voice and insisted on accompanying you to The Reach. But in that fateful moment, he had faltered, and now the price was your death.

The one soul who had loved him unconditionally—perhaps the only soul that ever had.

In the throes of despair, he had ravaged his own chambers in a storm of sorrow, crashing furniture and shattering glass. Yet, even amidst the chaos, he found no solace. Driven by a desperation he could hardly understand, he stumbled to your chambers, longing to find you smiling, blissfully unaware of his turmoil.

But the truth awaited him there, stark and unforgiving: your room stood as a mausoleum, empty and frigid, a world devoid of the warmth you once brought. A wretched reminder lingered in the air, a bittersweet trace of your scent that was now inseparable from his suffering.

And so, in his agony, he lay upon your bed, a canvas of despair draped in the remnants of your essence. He curled around your pillow, desperately inhaling the lingering fragrance of you, each breath a silent prayer for your return as tears slipped from his eyes, tracing paths down his cheeks.

There was a desperate thought that flirted with the edges of his grief—perhaps he should end it all, surrender to the oblivion that beckoned. In that darkness, he imagined a reunion with you, a sweet escape from the relentless pain of war and dread. Yet even in his muddled sorrow, a flicker of sanity held him back, urging him to cling to the slivers of his own existence, the remnants of a life that felt achingly incomplete without you.

Even if he were to shatter this fragile existence, he knew deep down that he would not be reunited with you; heaven would welcome your pure soul, while he would drown in the torment of hell's grasp.

Shame twisted in his gut as he found himself in the Blue Pearl, entwined with a woman who was not you. The very same woman who had robbed him of his innocence so many years ago, the one who had snuffed out the last vestiges of his untainted childhood.

"The love of my life is dead," Aemond murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper against Madam Sylvi's soft, perfumed skin. He was acutely aware of the hollowness inside him, a well from which no more tears could flow.

"You are still young, my prince. There will be many more to come," Sylvi cooed, her voice a melodic attempt to soothe his anguish. But her words only ignited a flicker of anger within him. How could she presume to understand? How could she speak of future loves when in his heart, there was only room for you?

"The last time I laid eyes on her, she told me she loved me," he said, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could summon forth that cherished moment. "I was the happiest I had ever been. And yet, how swiftly that joy was cruelly ripped away."

"Daemon sent them to kill me," he continued, his tone darkening with the weight of truth. "I was out."

"You were here," Sylvi stated.

"In truth, I am proud… that he considers me such a foe," Aemond confessed, a grim satisfaction threading through his grief. "And that he seeks to murder me in my bed—he fears me. His actions have borne my lady love’s tragic end, and he will answer for it."

"As well he should," Sylvi replied, her gaze intense. "The boy is grown into a man." She leaned closer, her lips hovering tantalizingly close to his.

"Mm. No. Not here," Aemond said with a frown, his body recoiling from her advances. Disgust flooded through him as he shifted away from her, seeking refuge on her thighs, though his thoughts were elsewhere. The brothel faded into the background as memories of you flooded his mind—your laughter, your warmth, the connection that ignited his very soul.

(I love making these vids)

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@barnes70stark @izabell26 @anyisaravia2001 @urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @ellie-xOxo @hueanhdang @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @caged-birdies-blog @darktrashsoulbear @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy @goddesslilithmoriarty @sunset18rose @filmflux @ln8118 @esposadomd @sara-grimes-yess @littybeech @gyneve @https-kokomi @void21 @yariany02 @baby-w3-ar3-infinite @baby-i-can-see-your-reylo @niktwazny303 @missyviolet123 @caribbeangal @ggukiespace @levimaids @Lokisgoddessofpower @anakilusmos @spacexdrago @strawberymilktea @snowtargaryen @fiction-fanfic-reader @feelingfaye @sxlsvv

[myouicieloz]

You overhear Karina talking about how clingy you are and from then out started being distant and non-affectionate towards her and she eventually confronts you and asks why you keep pushing her away, to which you tell her

Over her

Yoo Jimin x reader

Warnings: a little smut in the end (just a little). reader and yn don’t really talk abt it tbh. skipping meals (? idk how to word it better than this).

Word count: 5.4k

Notes: I’m alive!!! sorry for taking forever to answer 😔. I think your message got cut off? so I got a little creative, I hope you don’t mind :). If you do, I can still cut out a few things n stuff. anyways, merry early christmas ig ^^ ps: I also didn’t know if this was supposed to be smut, so I only wrote a little and in the end.

You’ve always been utterly, embarrassingly, completely enamored with your girlfriend. It was obvious to anyone who looked at you for even a single second; you would always be caught staring at Karina with loving eyes, often going out of your way to simply please and spoil her rotten, showering her with kisses and gifts. For you, it was physically impossible to be without her for too long. Her absence made your heart ache, almost as if there were something missing from you. It was difficult to go on with your routine if you didn’t have her by your side. You missed your late night talks, walks at the park, parking lot dates, eating too much junk food together… You missed her, truthfully. All of her.

Naturally, you understood her duties as an idol: being away for shows, events, and photoshoots were part of her life just as much as you were. However, you knew Karina’s time was precious and scarce— which was why, whenever she was back in Seoul, you tried to spend as much quality time together as possible.

Even now, as the group’s busy with their latest Mini Album’s promotions, you couldn’t help but to feel glistening with happiness to have the four girls back in Korea, regardless of them still being so occupied with fansigns, program attendances and rehearsals for their upcoming stages and festival performances. Having them in town gives you the opportunity to join them backstage, which you absolute love; whether it’s the artistic atmosphere, or being able to understand how this industry truly works, with all the engines running frantically in the girls’ background to ensure everything goes as planned… And, of course, getting to watch Karina perform and be the astonishing, all-rounder, talented version of herself was the best part of it all. Anytime you look at her through the big screens, you realize how lucky you truly are— to be able to see all sides of her. To witness how sweet, shy and caring she could also be, once the cameras were not around.

You loved her so much.

“Congratulations, girls! You absolutely nailed it!” You praise the four girls as soon as they leave the stage, breathless from performing at a University Festival. They all smile back, trying to recompose themselves as best as they can, the adrenaline from being on stage slowly running out. You wait for them to calm down, too, before reaching out to give your girlfriend a big hug, in hopes to express yourself through your touches. You mean to tell her how wonderful she had done, but she ends the hug quickly, although her smile still lingers.

“I’m all sweaty, Y/n.” She explains, which you nod and take a step back to give her space. The two of you walk side by side, towards the big dressing room. “I don’t want you to get dirty, too.”

You shrug, trying to hide the uncomfortable feeling that stood on your heart, with the lack of her touches. You understood, though. Karina’s just taking care of you, like the sweet girlfriend she is. So you follow her, without complaints, even though all you want is to jump from excitement and tell her how perfectly she performed, setting the public on fire. Instead, you force yourself to stay still and calm down, laying with the others on the couch as you watch them change into normal clothes and relax.

-

The cafe’s atmosphere is cozy and calm, a much-needed contrast for the girls after a whole morning of practicing at the company. The place’s barely occupied— lunch break is nearly over for most of the workers— and the only sounds that can be heard are the wind’s peaceful breeze and the girl’s voices, engaged in a nonchalant gossip.

“I’m so hungry.” Winter complains, resting her head on Karina’s shoulder. You all chuckle at the sight; she’s too cute, even when she’s whiny.

“Me too.” You nod, and reach out for your girlfriend’s arm, tugging it slightly to steal her attention from Ning’s excited storytelling. It takes a few moments, but she finally hums, acknowledging you. “Love, do you think the food will take long? I need to use the restroom, but I’ll wait if it’s coming soon.”

Karina frowns, looking behind you for a few seconds. After examining the balcony, she seems to think otherwise. “It might take quite a while, still. We’ve ordered a lot, and we just got here, too. You’re safe to go.”

You nod as you get up and excuse yourself, leaving the girls to their own conversations. Their reserved table, set in a pretty well-hidden corner of the cafe, is the reason you’re able to observe their faces from afar, once you make your way back from the stalls. None of them notice your arrival, too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to your frame.

Giselle, Winter, and Ningning’s faces are uneasy as they listen to Karina’s rambling. Their fingers twitch on the table, and they shake their heads every once in a while, leaving you to wonder what’s gotten them so serious. Trying to understand the matter, you frown behind their backs, approaching the group in slow, unhurried steps.

“… She’s constantly all over me, too. I swear I don’t even have time to breathe without her on my skin, as if she has nothing else to do. It’s so fucking annoying, really. Like, you remember, right? And there was that time when we were all at the park and Y/n was just insufferab—.”

You decide not to eavesdrop on the rest of your girlfriend’s conversation. Instead, you focus on keeping your steps as light as you can, once you turn around and nearly run back to the restroom, ignoring the heavy pitch just forming in your stomach.

You only allow yourself to relax once you reassure your mind that none of them were aware of you listening to Karina’s harsh, hurtful words.

Instead, your hands go to your face, and you try to focus and take deep breaths to prevent the tears from coming. The moment they start, you know it’ll take long to stop. It was one of the things Karina always teased you about: how you’ve always been such a crybaby, drowning yourself in tears for absolutely anything.

Oh, Karina… how could she speak such things about you? You’ve always put on so much effort to be the best, supportive girlfriend you could, with extra care to respect your girlfriend’s boundaries and still express how much you loved her.

It hurt to know she found you annoying and clingy, specially since all you’ve ever meant was to reassure her of your love. Allowing your body to sink into the restroom’s floor, you reach to the ground, hugging your knees in hopes to feel some comfort.

Flashes pass through your mind like rockets, analyzing every single moment you’ve ever spent with Karina. Even if it was the last thing you wanted to do, your mind doesn’t seem to give you any relief, overthinking about each one of her touches, phrases, and actions towards you. Did she even love you? What was she doing with you, then, if she found your presence to be so suffocating? What have you done wrong?

Was your whole existence the problem? The way you acted, your bubbly personality…

The questions, now clearly etched on your brain, did nothing but deepen the lump in your throat, one that left saliva building up in your mouth, making it impossible to swallow. Even the simplest actions were difficult to be executed, just like it was when you were away from your girlfriend for too long.

Despite all, you couldn’t help but let a light chuckle, forcing yourself to get up and wash your face in the sink. You feel like you’re going to collapse if you stay in the cafe. No, that won’t do— you have to go home. Even if it means facing chaos herself.

And her friends, too. They must’ve been aware of Karina’s feelings towards you all along, yet they still let you smile and be all over like a fucking idiot.

You look up, trying not to ruin your mascara and risk having any of them finding out what you’ve just heard. Without rush, you force yourself to even your breathing, inhaling and exhaling in slow movements, focusing on your body’s movements instead of giving in to desperation.

You feel like you’re at the bottom pit, and it fucking sucked.

After minutes of calming yourself down, you dried the remaining tears and got up, sighing as you excited the bathroom. Your hands trailed the walls as you walked without rush, looking for something, anything to provide some strength. Eventually, the walls of the hallway gave way to the open area of the tables, making you gulp. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt too weak, almost as if you were going to pass out at any given moment. Your usual confidence was all gone, and you weren’t at all sure you’d manage to speak to them without stuttering or crying.

“Thank fucking God, Y/n. We thought you got kidnapped or something.” Winter was the first to say, giggling. Giselle and Ningning smiled too, mumbling how you must’ve gotten lost or thrown in a portal to another dimension, perhaps.

Karina nods. “You really took too long out there, Y/n. I almost went looking for you.” Even though her tone is light, your girlfriend’s smile fades once she takes a proper look at your face.

You try your best to smile back at her, hands going unconsciously to your arms, scratching them nervously. You’ve always liked to be the center of their attention; the little moments where they’d ask you for an opinion or actively listen to your rambling… you thrived on them. It felt like they were spoiling you, giving up one of the things they cherished the most to focus on you: their time. Even if just for a few seconds, the feeling of being observed by them brought you a strange feeling of being fulfilled, of being someone important.

“I actually need to go, now.” You mutter, grabbing your stuff whilst refusing to meet your girlfriend’s piercing gaze.

Karina’s already aware something is wrong, though. She knows your body, your expressions, your mannerisms… she’s more than capable of telling when you’re off, much to your discomfort.

“Is everything ok? What happened?” Her hands grab a hold of your elbow, and you nearly joint, throwing your phone and sweater in your purse as fast as you can, to escape from her fingers on you. Her touch hurts, electrocuting your skin as if she were a storm set on a windy, loud night. You couldn’t stand it.

“It’s just a family emergency, don’t worry.” You take a step back, with your wallet in hands to pay for your drink. Bowing slightly to acknowledge the pain you were bringing onto the conversation, you add. “Please keep up with your lunch. I’ll make sure to update you about it soon.”

Karina’s hands rest on top of yours, taking the card from between your fingers and back to the wallet.

“It’s ok, I’ll pay.” Her voice, calm and soothing, is much different from her previous, livid tone. She gives your hand a squeeze, getting up herself. “Do you want me to go with you? Manager unnie will understand.”

The girls nod, their faces also filled with worry. However, you dismiss your girlfriend, diverting your gaze to the ground as you inhale deeply. You’re unable to face her by any given means; you’d fall apart in front of them if you did as such. In fact, you find yourself unable to face any of them. They’ve made a fool out of you for too long, and that single thought is enough for bile to rest in your throat, threatening to spill. You can’t deal with that, not at the moment.

“I mean it: I’m sure I can handle it.” Your muscles tense, and you don’t even notice your body’s backward steps. It was clear you wanted to leave, which was mostly the reason they didn’t pressure further, watching as you hurriedly made our way out.

Karina’s eyes were the most trained, her mind racing with thoughts that left her wondering what had gotten you so shaken, visibly out of place. Clueless, she stared at your frame until you’ve reached the door. Only then, you returned her stare.

The watery look in your eyes is more than enough to make her shiver, gripping her chest to get rid of the heaviness that had installed in her heart. Everything was fine, Karina told herself. You’d soon deal with your incident, and be back by her side as fast as you could, as always.

With that in mind, she relaxes, turning her attention back to her friends’ conversation.

-

Karina doesn’t understand why your distance hurts so much. She should’ve been relieved: you’ve stopped spamming her phone with updates of your day, no longer sending thousands of pictures and videos of things that, according to you, reminded you of herself. She doesn’t have to deal with your constant neediness, nor does she have to reassure you that you were loved, and she missed you. It’s all she’s ever wanted— to not be disturbed at all, being able to focus on work and just have a good time, overall.

Instead, she feels awful; as if something’s missing. Everything feels wrong; she’s unable to concentrate at all, her skin itches and her thoughts constantly linger on you, wondering.

“Hey, Jimin unnie.” Ning looks up from the ground, stretching herself out on the floor. “Is Y/n coming soon? She always brings the best snacks.” Resting on the couch, Karina lets out a long sigh, looking at the clock displayed above the dance room’s door.

“She’s not stopping by to watch us today.” The oldest explains, shrugging. She tries as hard as she can not to sound affected by it. “It’s Nutcracker season. She’s rehearsing until late, most likely.”

“Most likely? Haven’t you talked to her today to know that?”

Giselle’s sharp tone hurt, specially since Karina’s phone was currently burning in her pocket, with a lot of unread messages she had sent you. Karina twists her fingers to prevent herself from putting her hands on her face, in a tired manner. “No, I haven’t. Like I said, she’s busy. We haven’t talked much since this morning.”

“Wow, this is serious, then.” Giselle’s lips turn into a smirk, as she brushes the sweat out of her face. “Y/n’s never missed a pre-comeback rehearsal of ours. Like, literally never. Not even if she had her own rehearsals to attend. Have you ever attended any of hers, by the way?”

Karina grits her teeth. She knows Giselle means well: she’s friends with you, and is simply curious. Knowing that doesn’t keep the girl from wanting to punch the Uchinaga for annoying her, though. With the engines running inside her head, Karina tries her best to focus on exhausting her body, in hopes of having the burning sensation ease her troubled mind. Still, she couldn’t help but constantly wonder what was going on in with you. Why were you suddenly so distant?

The questions clouded her head, making it difficult to focus on the choreography they were learning. It seems like she wasn’t making up stuff, after all: Giselle’s questions made it clear you were different, weirdly so.

Nodding, Karina added, “Yeah. It’s not like herself at all.”

Giselle meant to continue the conversation, but the dark look Karina shoots her is enough to get the Uchinaga to gulp, focusing back on her movements, along with the melody of their upcoming song. It was none of her business, anyway.

Once the girls make their way back to the dorms, Karina decides she’s had enough of whatever you were intending to do. She’d stop by and confront you, finally. It frustrated her, having to guess your feelings, specially since you’ve been dating for quite a while — now. But she’d do it, if you were so willing to be petty. She’d be the one to reach out first.

-

“Thank you, girls. I’ll see you in a bit. I won’t be late, promise.” Karina’s words reverberate through the car, as she waves goodbye to her friends.

Her three bandmates were, as always, more than quick to encourage her to reach out to you, after the distance between you lingered for weeks. Even though it would cost her hours she should be spending in the recording room, they’ve immediately told Karina to talk to you, urging to have both of you in good terms once again.

Ever since you’ve become a shell of the caring, sweet girlfriend you once were, Karina’s been jittery; she was easily irritated and often picked arguments over the simplest things. It was clear the situation was taking a toll on her, in ways she’d never admit. Karina would die before confessing how much she missed your voice, your care, your touches. She’d never admit it. After all, she did constantly complain about how clingy and annoying you were— it was only fair she lived up to her words.

With a sigh, the girl enters your Dance Studio, tugging at the tiny Christmas decorations that hang through the reception area, the doors, and the walls. She realizes she’s never actually been inside the massive building for more than three, maybe four times. Usually, Karina would just wait for you by the car, never bothering to get to know the place you spent the majority of your time, whenever you weren’t attending your classes. Karina mutters a curse under her breath, silently punishing herself for not paying enough attention to you, as she smiles at the receptionist and asks about your location.

“Second four, third door on the left. She’s booked up a private room for a few hours, but they should be near the end, now.” The woman told her, as Karina bowed her in recognition, making her way towards the elevator.

Once she’s walking through the hallways, a big, colored paper with numerous names catches her eyes, standing out in the sea of decorations and adornments. It’s a casting list, and Karina’s chest fills with pride as she reads your name: first in line, cast as the lead dancer. She vaguely remembers of one of your rambles months prior, the low tone of your voice exposing how ashamed you were to confess about your nervousness to audition. At that time, Karina had been so focused on her own stuff she barely gave your topics any attention at all, dismissing them with a few hums until you focused on her rants again.

Now, Karina desperately wished she had paid you more attention. She urged to be active in your life: to know what was happening in your routine, your troubles and whatever was making you happy at the moment. Filled with guilt, the dark-haired girl slides the door slowly, delighting herself in the sight of your perfectly arranged frame, stretching yourself by the bars.

“You haven’t told me you got cast as Clara.” She says, quietly, staring at how precise and eloquent your moves are, even though the music that comes from your phone is faint, nearly inaudible.

You take a look at your girlfriend through the mirrors, trying your best to look indifferent. In reality, the first thought you’ve had as soon as you got cast as the lead dancer for the company’s Winter play was to call her, screaming in excitement for accomplishing something you’ve wanted for so long. But her words were still livid on your mind—which is why you simply shrug, going on with your barre routine, back straightened and arms arched. Once again, it was difficult to act like her stare didn’t burn, consuming you completely, but you reverberated through it.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I only got it because Seowon unnie is injured, anyway. She didn’t even audition.”

“I see.” Karina says. Her eyes examine your body so intensely you gulp, reaching out for your water bottle. She follows your every move, like a fox out for a hunt. “Do you want to have lunch? We can finally have some time for us, then. You’ve been so busy.” Her tone is sarcastic, and you know she’s fully aware of the distance you’ve been putting on between them. Her message is clear: she’s done playing and waiting for you to gather your thoughts and come back to her on your own, as you’d usually do whenever you argued.

Only you weren’t backing up or apologizing, this time.

“I can’t put on weight. I have fittings in 3 days.” Karina frowns, approaching until you were unable to continue your moves.

She looks at your body, eyes searching for any flaws with such hunger, you instantly feel heat invading your cheeks.

“You’re good.” Leaving no space for denial, she turns around and holds the door open, motioning for you to go first. “Now, let’s have lunch.”

-

“Is it something with your family?” Karina is the first to break the awkward silence that lingers on the lunch table, in hopes to stir anything inside you to make you stop playing with your salad and look at her face. It works: you look up, genuinely confused.

“What? No, they’re good.” You tuck your hair behind your ears, clearly not enjoying the date. If anything, your moves are mechanic, hesitant.

If it were any other day, you’d be talking until you had to grasp for air, filling Karina in every detail of your life for the second or third time, probably. She thinks she’ll go insane at the sight of you, sitting idle on the desk, with big, sad eyes.

“Good. It’s good they’re all well and healthy.” She says, then adds, lifting her brows. Even though she tries not to express how irritated she is by the situation, Karina’s not good at hiding her expressions. “What is wrong? You’re clearly different, but keep acting petty and not telling me what it is.”

Your mouth opens in a perfect “O” as the words leave your girlfriend’s mouth. Does she think you’re that immature? She must simply not care about her own words, then. You’re sure of it. “I’m not fucking petty.”

Karina stares at your arms, tightly crossed against your chest, and at your pout. She almost laughs, thinking about how adorable the sight is, but the fire in your eyes reminds her of the current situation. She leans back on the chair, motioning for you to do something. Anything.

“Talk, then.”

She infuriates you. Just sitting in front of you, so sure she’s done nothing wrong, as if you’re the only one to blame.

“You’re really clueless, aren’t you?” It takes some deep breaths to not point a finger at her, so you just let out a dry laugh. “I’m just giving you what you want.”

“What do you mean by that?” Once again, she looks genuinely confused. Before you get to answer, thought, Karina’s phone rings. She picks up immediately, not at all pleased with how you rolled your eyes at the interruption. It’s Aeri, calling to say Bada had already arrived, and she’s the only one missing for them to start cleaning the choreo.

You get up before she has the chance to say anything, with a fake smile as you wait for her to call the waiter and pay for your date.

“I have to go, too.” You say, walking up slightly faster than her. When it’s time for you to actually part ways, though, you stop, unsure of what to do. You would rather not touch her; it still hurts, and part of you was indeed petty enough to deprive her of your touch, after her complaints.

Karina beats you to it, however. Before you register, she seals your lips in a delicate kiss, one you can’t help but melt on.

“See you soon, Y/n. I love you.” She says, before entering her company’s car and being driven away. She doesn’t wait for you to acknowledge the situation, and you’re happy for that.

Huffing in frustration, you make your way back towards your studio, in hopes to keep your strained relationship out of your mind, even if just for a few hours.

-

As much as Karina thinks it through, she can’t fantom where she’s gone wrong. You’ve just distanced yourself so suddenly, and it has left a hole in her heart, along with a lingering itch on her skin that makes her want to scratch her arms until they’re red and sore. She’s busy, and she knows you’re busy, too, but she’s had enough of this. She misses you, and she hates herself for complaining about how you’ve always shown her nothing but love. She took it for granted before, but she won’t anymore.

Her palms are slippery as she knocks on the dressing room’s door, not waiting much until she’s given permission to enter. She’s not surprised to find you alone— your friends told her you were usually the last one to change into normal clothes, as crowded spaces made you breathless and anxious. She is, though, surprised to find you looking down at your hands, so small and filled with sorrow, despite having performed flawlessly not even an hour ago.

You’re surrounded by stuffed animals, letters, and gifts from your friends and family, yet it still seems so… empty. And you know what’s lacking.

The girl standing by the door knows it, too.

“You looked beautiful on the stage tonight.” Karina says, carefully placing the huge bouquet she bought you on the empty part of the table, the one your hands rest. “As always. My beauty.”

You nod, gripping your chair as you try to ground yourself. Even your body navigated towards her; it was hard not to run into her arms and forget how hurt you were.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You truly didn’t, even though you had sent invites to her and the girls, they were always so busy— they’ve never attended, before.

It’s Karina’s turn to be hesitant — now. Trapping her hands in her pockets, she adds. “I don’t want to be absent from your life anymore.” The statement, all you’ve wanted to hear for so, so long, makes your heart nearly joint. You try to speak, but she’s still immersed in her words. “I miss you. And I have no fucking clue of why you’ve been so distant lately, but I miss your laugh, your touches—fuck, I miss everything about you. I know I’ve been so fucking selfish, and I’ve never realized you were the only one making efforts for us for so long.” You’re still looking at her through the mirror when she places her head on your shoulders, hands playing with your leotard’s thin strap to have something to occupy herself with. “I’m sorry.”

You gulp, looking at the beautiful flowers she got you. Being without Karina had turned you into a mess, but you still feel just as uneasy in her presence. No matter how much you try, you can’t seem to forget her words. How irritated she sounded, at the time, as if you were such a bother.

Your girlfriend was still waiting for her answer, so you take some flowers into your hands, as you ask, hesitant. “Don’t I suffocate you? I’m too much, I guess.”

Karina shakes her head. “Of course not. Where’d you get that from?” Her hands move to your waist, subtly, her light fingers barely noticeable as they brush your covered skin.

“You can stop lying, you know. Just tell me if you do.” Your voice cracks, and it’s enough for Karina to realize how hurt you truly were, by the affirmation.

It comes to her, then, that you weren’t being petty, all over the past weeks. You were just hurt, and needed some time. She feels guilty for being the reason for such feelings.

Hugging you with a strong grip, she decides to be honest. “There was a time… where I felt like it, for a bit. I was overworked, and annoyed at everything. But then you vanished, and… it felt like there was something missing, I guess.”

Her face is all red from the confession, making you smile. It’s a rare occurrence, for Karina to talk about her feelings, and even more for her to confess anything. It’s the real proof she missed you; the girl’s willingness to be vulnerable, even if for a small moment.

You missed her so, so much. As always you’re the first to give in, no longer fighting the rational part of your brain that screamed for you to distance yourself and leave Karina.

“Let’s go home, ‘Jiminie.” You murmur, humming as you feel her hands all over your body, groping and twisting your skin, touch starved for anything you could provide. You whine, looking at her through her lashes. In this love bubble, your drunken state is enough for Karina to kiss you, her sweet taste marked with hunger.

“I don’t want to wait, though. I’ve missed you for too long.” She looks at you dead serious, adding, “Far too long.”

You nod, a moan escaping your mouth when Karina pushes all the makeup and the gifts onto the ground, her lithe hands gripping your thighs and urging you up on the vanity with ease. Once again, her fingers try to get through your leotard, huffing when she’s met with tights instead of bare skin.

You grab her wrists, giggling at her urgent moves. “Don’t.” You warn, turning your head when Karina meets your lips for another breathless, hungry kiss. Her mouth meets the corner of yours, instead. You’d forgotten how much you loved to tease her. “I have to perform tomorrow, and for weeks after that. Don’t ruin them.”

She retreats completely, then. Stepping back, she places her hands up, following your demands. Her body language is relaxed, but her voice is strained, stating how she truly feels. “You better take them off — now. And give me a show.”

You roll your eyes at the lack of sweetness, but another sharp look from Karina and you’re quick to do as told. Her attention is solely on you, admiring your precise moves. You’re just as graceful and beautiful as when you went on stage, and Karina drinks on the vision.

Without rush, you unbutton your costume until it falls from your body, lifting yourself up to let the fabric dangle on the ground. Your body is exposed to your girlfriend’s touch. You’re drenched, desperate to have her after so long apart. You can feel the heat on your skin, as you reach out to have her close once again. It lingers, only deepening with the hungry, messy kiss you and Karina share. Her hands meet your neck, and you gasp the moment you feel her fingers blocking your airways. The dizziness, along with her wet mouth on your chin, then marking your neck as she has her share of you, just as starved. You’re too light-headed to complain about the bruises, being so quick to turn into a moaning, breathless mess.

“I missed you t-too much.” You murmur, drawing your head back as she licks her way down on your body. You watch, starstruck, as she falls down on her knees, hands spreading your thighs with ease.

You take a hold of her long, dark hair, but don’t motion to force your girlfriend’s face into your cunt— you know better than that. Instead, you wait, eagerly, as she parts your folds. Her other hand comes to collect your juices, proving on your sweetness.

“I’m obsessed with you.” She mutters, breath hot on your cunt. Her eyes meet yours, and she’s just as breathless. “Fucking obsessed. Do you understand? This is all mine.”

Without a warning, she licks a big stripe of your pussy, her nose bumping onto your clit without much pressure. The action, though not rough, is more than enough to have lewd, loud sounds come out of your mouth. The only thing on your mind is your girlfriend. Her touches and the pleasure she was always so eager to give you.

“I’ll worship you because you’re mine.”

Perhaps your relationship was built on empty promises. But as for the moment, the only thing that matters is Karina’s hot, warm breath on your skin, and how right it feels.

[illyrianbitch]

An Education in Malice — Part Four

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: 18+ heavy making out and wandering hands, lots of bickering, sexual tension, threats, name calling, torture and wound descriptions, abuse, two emotionally dysregulated cunts tbh

Word Count: 7.7k

←Part Three | Series Masterlist | Part Five

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The air between you and Azriel had taken on a peculiar tension lately, some overwhelming, suffocating force that made you feel entirely too nervous for your comfort.  

Neither of you could ever pinpoint who made the first move— or rather, neither of you were willing to admit who did— but somehow, like clockwork, your dress was hiked up, his leathers were undone, and he was rutting into you from behind. It was always the same: a possessive grip on your waist, in your hair, or on your breasts, breath hot against your ear as he whispered words that only fueled the fire between you, responses to whatever comments you had made to rile him up.

It had become a distraction, this strange dynamic you created, that even Renard's interrogations had taken a backseat in lieu of it. It was proving increasingly difficult to get work done between fighting or fucking. 

The chamber was a dismal pit, darkness swallowing any hint of light that dared to enter. Moisture clung to the walls like a thick veil– the dirty, fetid atmosphere was tainted with the unmistakable stench of blood and other bodily fluids. You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

Azriel approached Renard, head cocking slightly to the side as his shadows danced around him— seemingly curious, excited almost. A twisted sense of satisfaction grew within you at the sight of Renard's pitiful state—starving, bloody, bruised, and desperate. 

Perhaps you should have felt some semblance of remorse or pity; even with how cruel Renard was, a compassionate soul should still feel a sense of guilt, a sense of sickness. But as you searched your body for it, as you attempted to muster it up, you came up empty handed. Instead, a rush of power surged through you. It felt like karma– well deserved karma.

You glanced at Azriel. There seemed to be a mirrored expression of satisfaction on his face, an unphased coolness to the situation before him. Even his shadows seemed at home, falling into familiar, rehearsed positions as he moved.  Deep down, something within you rested at the realization that he felt no remorse, either. 

“Is your plan to just stare at him until he confesses his secrets?”

Azriel could already anticipate the scowl on your face from the tone of your voice alone. He slowly turned his head to toss an unamused glare your way, hazel eyes momentarily scanning your figure. 

For the first time since this arrangement had begun, you were clad in something different, a departure from the usual dresses that adorned your form. The ensemble was a blend of regality and practicality, more akin to the attire of a warrior than a courtly lady— fitted pants and a tailored tunic, fabric adorned with subtle embellishments of autumn. It seemed as if Azriel wasn’t used to the sight yet— or he was entirely repulsed. You weren’t sure which, but you didn’t quite care, either. 

When his eyes met yours again, you gave him an impatient eyebrow raise, nodding towards Renard’s limp body. “Are you done checking me out yet?”

Azriel’s stare remained on you for a few more moments before he followed your line of sight back to the male before him. 

“Maybe if I didn’t have an incessant pest over my shoulder, I would be more successful.”

You stepped closer to him, a faint smell of night-chilled mist and cedar reaching your nose. “Maybe if you were actually good at anything besides harboring a grudge, you would’ve already been successful.”

Azriel didn’t move, didn’t so much as toss a glance your way as he responded, “Being a hypocrite isn’t a look fit for a lady.”

You let out an angry breath. 

Too much time had passed with Renard missing. Soon enough, your father was bound to get suspicious— and Eris was bound to get worried as well.  There wasn’t any doubt that Renard didn’t know much, not only because your father was a paranoid ruler, but because he failed to plan ahead more often than not. You didn’t need much information. All you needed was an idea of what Beron was planning, some inkling. Once you knew that, you could easily prevent it and ensure he didn’t gain any more power— ensure that Eris was set up to successfully overthrow him. 

But Azriel seemed to be taking his time, attempting to get other information about your court that could prove useful for the Night Court. 

“I think we’ve already established I’m past that title.”

Azriel looked at you. “Clearly.”

An all-too familiar simmering prickled at your skin and you clenched your jaw, matching the intensity of his glare with one of your own. 

Renard let out a weak chuckle, blood staining his teeth as he lifted his chin. 

“Listening to you two bicker is almost worse than the actual torture. You’re like a married couple. It’s pathetic.”

Azriel’s head snapped towards the male and a growl rumbled through the room. “Watch your mouth.”

But Renard only sneered, turning his bloodshot eyes to Azriel. “Big bad Shadowsinger, always lurking in the dark. Afraid to face your own inadequacies in the light, boy?”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, tendrils of shadows now swirling around him, agitated, buzzing with a need to move. Renard offered a sickly, bloodied grin as he observed their movement. “No wonder you hide behind those shadows—they're the only things that can stand being around you.”

There was a pause as Azriel’s gaze grew predatory. And then a small, involuntary sound left your lips. 

It surprised you as much as it did Azriel, who turned to look at you with a furrowed brow and growing scowl. Your eyes widened a fraction at the sound, and within seconds, you let out a laugh.

The softness of it felt sinful, felt completely and utterly wrong— and something rippled throughout Azriel’s body at it, dug its way deep down into him until his wings felt slightly limp. From around his arms, his shadows slowed, coming to a curious, awe-filled stop. They began whispering, but he paid no attention. He pushed the foreign sensations away, his surroundings registering in his mind as he scowled.

“What the hell are you laughing at?”

You shook your head, another laugh escaping your lips at his face, contorted in frustration—  in an irritated confusion of being so caught off guard. His wings flared out, twitching slightly in response to the repeated sound.  “Nothing,” you said, “Your life just may be more pathetic than I thought if you’re getting psychoanalyzed by the male you’re torturing.”

Azriel’s irritation deepened as a grin grew on your face. “Shut up.”

A weak scoff drew your attention back to the bound male next to you. 

“You shouldn’t be laughing, princess.”  Renard’s eyes gleamed with malice as he shifted his gaze to you.  “Pretending to be tough, but the only reason you’re here is because you’re too weak to do anything on your own. Everyone knows Beron’s little girl is just a pathetic, needy bitch.”

The laughter died in your throat almost instantly, jaw clenching as your amusement quickly faded into a red haze of annoyance. A flame flickered at your fingertips. 

“Careful,” you warned. You moved to take a step towards Renard, but Azriel’s hand shot out instantly, stopping you with a firm grasp around your arm. 

You glanced down at where his hand met your body before pulling yourself away with a scowl. “Can you just do your job so we can kill him already?”

Your voice had a bitter, agitated edge to it now, a drawl that sounded more whiny than it did threatening. Azriel folded his arms, a gleam in his eyes as he responded with a mocking, “Why? Did he hit a nerve?”

You growled, watching as the edges of his lips turned up slightly— just enough for you to notice, just enough for that hint of an arrogant smirk to bother you. 

 “I think I preferred when you stayed quiet and sulked in your shadows.”

Azriel continued to stare at you, the ghost of a smirk still plastered on his face. A sense of annoyance prickled at your skin, mixed with something that tasted nauseatingly like embarrassment. Faintly, you felt the rush of heat threatening to spread to your cheeks. 

You clenched your jaw harder, gaze flickering from Azriel’s amused face to Renard’s bruised, snickering one. You landed back on Azriel with a sneer. 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face before I do it for you.”

Azriel watched in amusement as you stormed off, disappearing with another huff of annoyance and a vulgar gesture over your shoulder. 

Renard turned to him with a vile grin. “I have to ask. What’s she like, Shadowsinger? We’ve all wanted to fuck her. I bet she’s just as desperate in bed as she is—”

Azriel's expression darkened instantly, shadows swirling violently around him as he flared his wings out, poised and deadly. He held Renard by the throat, grip unyielding, siphons glowing angrily. His voice was deadly calm as he muttered, "I warned you to watch your mouth."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Only a couple hours had passed when Azriel found you again in the Spring Court, standing in the small house he’d grown strangely accustomed to. 

“You're here.”

You glanced over your shoulder, a sarcastic smile tugged at your lips. "Great detective skills on your part. Think you could use those with Renard?"

Unphased, Azriel rolled his eyes, the motion barely perceptible but unmistakable to someone who had spent as much time with him as you had. He moved with silent grace until he was standing right behind you, shadows hovering over his shoulders. 

"What's all this?"

His tone was flat as he took in the various items you had strewn across the table.

You shrugged, not bothering to turn around. "I brought some things so I wouldn’t need to keep going back and forth."

You could feel his presence behind you, the warmth of his body caressing over your skin as he leaned closer. Azriel's gaze landed on a leather-bound notebook among your belongings. 

"What's the notebook for?"

You stared at it for a moment, gingerly picking it up in your hands. There was a smirk on your lips as you turned to face him, face seemingly innocent and sweet. 

"All my private thoughts and hopes and dreams. At night, I sit with it and write in cursive letters, 'I hope the shadowsinger shuts the fuck up and stops being nosy.'"

Your voice started light, teasing, but as you finished the sentence, your expression hardened into a glare. Azriel seemed anything but amused, and a muscle feathered in his cheek. He gave no verbal response, opting to keep his gaze trained on you until you let out a huff of annoyance. 

He’d collected certain observations of you over the past few weeks. 

You rolled your eyes in almost every conversation he held with you. You smelled like a crackling fire and forest pine branch, something so similar to fresh fall air. He’d seen you sneer more than he’d ever seen you smile— which was once, today, as Renard commented on his shadows and apparent self-loathing. But most of all, you hated prolonged eye-contact. It made you angry, frustrated— flustered even. Azriel wouldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt every time he watched your jaw clench, watched the tinge of pink appear on the apple of your cheeks.

“What?” You snapped, glaring at him through your lashes. 

“Any particular reason you're more insufferable than usual?” 

An eye roll. “Bite me.”

“Hmm.” A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. “Do you want me to?”

Your mouth parted for a fleeting second. And then you scowled, nose scrunching at the movement. “I brought this to keep track of everything I find out about my father and Koschei.” You shoved the journal into Azriel’s chest with a little more force than necessary.

Azriel frowned, catching it effortlessly. His shadows flowed to his fingers, gliding across the cover as he flipped it open. He glanced at you through his lashes, a single brow arching in question. “This is empty.”

“Point proven,” you shot back, “Go back to Renard and find something useful. We’re running out of time.”

He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders back, and narrowed his eyes at you. “I wasn’t aware we were on a deadline.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Another sigh of annoyance left your lips. "Beron is bound to realize that Renard isn't on some drunken bender anymore. He's going to come looking. I don't want there to be anything for him to find."

Azriel's lips quirked in a small, humorless smile. "I think I'm capable of hiding a trail or two."

"Are you sure about that?" You narrowed your eyes. "Because you barely seem able to get Renard to do anything besides read you like a boring, sad, self-loathing book."

Azriel let out a scoff, glancing to the side as he threw the journal back onto the table behind you. You clenched your jaw at the movement, at the sound of the thud it created as it fell onto the wood. 

"Your insults are getting weaker, princess. Maybe you should take some lessons from him."

"Shut up," you snapped, the words coming out more petulant than you'd intended. 

He crossed his arms across his chest. Your eyes fell to his hands, to the siphons that beamed with color in front of you. His shadows followed the movement, gliding down his forearms and around his wrists.

“What would happen if Beron found out you were sneaking around? That you were holding Renard?”

His voice drew your attention back to his face, where his eyes were narrowed in on you in a deep, curious, almost unsure gaze. 

Your answer was swift, no hesitation. “He would kill me.”

Azriel wasn’t quite sure why his body reacted the way it did, why he felt himself flinch, why his wings seemed to twitch in discomfort. Whatever the reason, you noticed the reaction immediately, noting how his brows seemed to furrow ever-so-slightly—- a motion nearly minuscule for the normal eye, but you were talented at picking up these things. Years of blending in gave you such abilities— and weeks around Azriel made it easier to read his tells.

There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t make out yet, but it was heavy and made you antsy. You broke eye contact, dropping your eyes to the ground as you absentmindedly kicked your shoe at some tracked-in dirt. 

“Don’t act so surprised,” you said nonchalantly, “My father has no ties to me beyond the unfortunate blood in my veins. I’m a bitch to be bred by the highest bidder.”

Something tightened in your chest as you paused for a moment. You blinked away the images that were flowing in through the corners of your mind. “I’m not worth any extra hassle.”

A silence followed. Your gaze was still on the ground, still on your black boots and the floor beneath you. A faint motion caught your eye and you watched as a tendril of Azriel’s shadow drifted to the ground— cascading down his ankle before it fell to the ground, stopping at your feet.

“I’d say,” Azriel murmured.

His words ran through you like a cold chill.

Azriel watched as something dark and fleeting passed through your eyes. You stood up straight, dropping your hands to grip the edges of the table as you leaned the small of your back against it. The faint smell of something burnt lingered in the air.

You tilted your head at him, gaze flickering between his eyes. And then a mocking, sly grin pulled at the edges of your lips. It felt unnatural. “Says the man who fucks me in the forest like a starved beast.”

Azriel’s hands slowly dropped from his chest. He took a step forward. A sense of tension crackled in the shared air, and you felt it within your stomach— a small flicker of fire.

“You let me.”

You shrugged. Heated pooled in your veins.  “A good fuck is a good fuck.”

Azriel’s lips curled into a smirk, and his hand reached out to trace up your arm. You tightened your grip on the edge of the table as the touch traveled through your skin. “It doesn’t bother you that it’s me?”

There was something inherently dangerous about the way he spoke, about the taunting, accusatory tone his words now dripped with. He traced the movement of his hand with his eyes, continuing a path up your arm. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

His eyes flickered up to yours. You took a deep breath. 

“Truthfully?” He leaned in closer.  “I loathe it.”

His movements momentarily stilled, but you felt his shadows continue the path he’d started, felt as they slowly snaked up your arms. 

“Yet you keep coming back.”

His eyes darkened, and then he let out a soft, cool hum.  “A good fuck is a good fuck.”

By now, you were inches apart, the space between you a thin, taut with a suffocating tension that made it hard for you to breathe. His shadows slithered around you, caressing your skin so delicately you could’ve sworn it mimicked a lover's touch— their darkness wrapping around your neck, weaving themselves through strands of your hair.

You bit your lip, and Azriel's hand moved to your mouth, the pad of his thumb slowly pulling your bottom lip down. "You said you don’t care about Koschei,” he murmured, “That you just want to help your family.”

He released your lip, thumb resting on your skin as he held your chin in his hand.  He titled your head to his line of sight. “But Eris doesn’t know about Renard.”

"No, he does not.”

Your voice was quieter now, a low, soft tone that made Azriel almost groan in response. The feeling went straight through his body, coiling in his stomach and making his cock twitch. 

"Would he disagree with the methods?" 

Azriel’s lips were inches from yours, the space between you practically nonexistent. 

You frowned at the question, feeling your chest tighten as his mouth hovered near yours. Your knuckles turned white as your grip on the table turned iron, feeling the chipped wood beneath your fingertips. 

"He would disagree with me interfering so boldly with my father.”

"Because it would get you killed," Azriel stated.

"Yes.” 

His nose brushed against yours, and he met your gaze as his hand moved to wrap around the base of your neck. 

"You’re willing to continue this even if it risks your life?" 

You felt strangely exposed, naked in a way that you’d never felt before— not even when your clothes had been torn off and he was deep inside you, hands roaming your naked skin with a scorching touch and a ravenous mouth. This felt intimate. You didn’t like it. 

You traced the features of his face, his gaze still laser-focused on you, intense and wanting. He had a few freckles across his cheeks that you’d never noticed, and the flecks of green in his eyes were overshadowed by his dilated pupils. You took a deep breath, finding the courage to meet his heavy gaze once more. 

"Wouldn’t you do something similar?"

Azriel paused. A sense of conflict passed through his eyes as he pulled back slightly, just enough to scan your face entirely. 

"No," he finally said. He hesitated for a moment. "I’d do the exact same thing."

There was a beat of silence. You stared at one another, breaths turning heavy, ragged. Your heart thundered beneath your ribs. Before you could come to your senses, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your hands around his neck to pull him into you. Azriel responded eagerly, mouth slotting over yours with a natural, practiced ease. 

His hands fell from your neck, tracing down your waist until his palms gripped your hips, pulling your body further into his own. You let out a sound of pleasure at the feeling, at how his hands explored you, how the heat of his body seared against yours. You melted into his touch.

Azriel’s lips trailed along your jawline, and with a guttural groan, he  suddenly spun you around, pulling you back against him with a possessive force, his arousal pressing hard into your beck. 

The sudden change in position only fueled the haze in your mind and you placed your hands over his, following as he roamed over your curves. You threaded your fingers through his, roughly guiding his palm up your chest, moving to cup it over your breast. 

His lips nipped at your ear from behind.

"This change in wardrobe is interesting," he murmured, voice husky and rough with a delicious sense of desire.

You tilted your head slightly, reveling in the feeling of his breath against your skin. "Don't like it?" 

He chuckled lowly, his hands cupping your breast roughly. “Don't particularly favor how difficult it seems to take off."

The sensation of his touch sent a rush of heat coursing through you. Every inch of you burned with need— an all-consuming, humiliating need. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you leaned into his touch, head falling back onto his shoulders as his lips found the skin beneath your ear. 

You raised a hand to tangle your fingers into Azriel’s hair, your eyes opening once more as his touch grew hungrier, rougher. 

The view of the table slowly came into focus. Your gaze fell to the notebook, its empty pages seemed to mock you with their blankness, and you blinked as a sense of sanity washed through you like a cold tide. 

With a jolt, you pushed yourself away from Azriel, prying his hands off your body as you broke the heated embrace.

Azriel blinked, shadows rushing back to him as if startled by the sudden pull away. His hair was tousled, lips still tingling from the kiss.

"What is it?" he asked, breathing heavy. 

You took a moment to compose yourself, patting down your disheveled hair with quick hands. "I’m bored. This isn’t doing it for me," you lied. You swallowed as Azriel’s stared at you with a furrowed brow. "Just go work on Renard."

You left no room for him to respond. Within the blink of an eye, you had disappeared from Azriel’s sight. 

His hands ran through his hair, attempting to shake off the lingering effects of the moment with you. The air still felt suffocating, still smelled of you and the sweet, addicting scent of your arousal. He scowled to himself.

His shadows slowly moved down his frame, falling to the ground and gliding across the floors. His eyes fell down to their movement, watching as they wrapped around a foot of the table, as they made their way up to the tabletop. 

He squinted at where they landed, reaching a finger out to the area that they traced. There, etched into the wood, was a faint outline of a burnt handprint— a perfect replica of your palm. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Even with the familiar scene of pine and earth, returning home to the Forest House– to your court— never brought you a sense of comfort. But today, with the heat of your blush still spreading through your cheeks, you welcomed the quiet, empty halls. 

The soft patter of paws drew your attention as Laney approached with her head lowered. A small smile grew on your lips as she nudged you with her wet nose, but quickly the smile dropped as a small whine escaped her. 

Kneeling down, you gently ran your fingers across her coat. "What's wrong, girl?"

She only nudged your hand once more and turned, leading you deeper into the house.

A sense of foreboding settled over you as you followed her through the corridors. Your steps quickened when you spotted Flint lying outside Eris’s room. The dread in your chest grew heavier. Eris had a special connection to Flint. There were only a few situations in which he’d refuse the company.

Your face fell as you pushed the door to Eris’s room,  heart clenched at the sight before you. 

Eris sat on a small, velvet bench at the end of his bed, his head snapping back to the sound of his door opening. His expression quickly softened when he met your eyes, and you watched as his shoulders slumped.  “It’s just you.”

You gave him a small nod as he turned back around, your gaze falling to the blood-soaked shirt he wore, the crimson color spreading throughout the thin fabric. Flint and Laney pushed past you, paws pattering on the ground as they entered the room. A heavy feeling settled in your chest, something entirely dark and queasy. 

Eris grumbled as Flint neared him. “Shit. Y/N, close the godsdamn door.”

“I-” You snapped out of your daze, quickly closing the door before rushing over to him, gently pushing the hounds aside. “I’m sorry.”

You sat down next to him. “They just want to help you,” you said quietly. 

Eris sighed, a deep, weary sound. “I know. I just—”

Your eyes wandered to the hounds who had settled down nearby. Such regal, cunning, smart creatures. You’d never think them caring enough to sense such pain, yet here they were, eyes reflecting a deep understanding of the situation. Flint let out a small whimper, laying his head on his paws.

You looked back at Eris, slumped with his head in his hands, spine curved in a manner that made his wounds pour deeper into his shirt. A similar thought made its way through your mind. Your brother, regal and intelligent, a male who carried so much, who bore his father’s wrath time and time again– a male with a warm heart somewhere deep within the anger he radiated. The heavy feeling in your chest grew, began to fester into something fighting between fury, loathing, and suffocating sadness. 

“What happened?”

Eris didn’t lift his head, voice muffled by his hands. “He found me talking to my men. It wasn’t anything. Wasn’t about Koschei, wasn’t even about him.” 

There was an exhaustion in his voice that dripped with every word. 

“He was feeling particularly upset today,” Eris finished as he lifted his shirt, revealing the full extent of the damage. The lashes were deep, and you could see the dark, almost blackened edges where your father’s special concoction had seeped into the wounds. Eris bit back a groan, jaw clenched tightly.

That heavy feeling in your chest turned hot, burning— all consuming. So many things ran through your mind, overwhelming, crushing floods of emotions drowning your senses. 

You registered the anger first, the empty, crushing pressure of it, a feeling you’d grown too familiar with. Anger at your father, at the situation you were all trapped in, at the sheer unfairness of it all. 

And then it was guilt. Dark, suffocating, guilt. Renard missing had probably put your father on edge. Not only had you lied about it, kept it a secret, but you hadn’t been there when Eris needed you most. Instead, you’d been entangled with Azriel, a male who had no respect for you, for your family, who would so willingly watch your brother suffer. Selfish, selfish, selfish. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There was nothing you could say, nothing that would make this situation okay, that would take away Eris’s pain– that would prevent it from happening all over again. You swallowed.

“Eris-” 

He lifted his head and turned to you a resigned expression, eyes slightly wide with desperation.  "I’m going to call it all off. We can’t meet with them now, not for a while.”

You didn’t need to ask for clarification, you already knew who he was talking about, what alliance he was referring to. You shook your head. “No, we need-”

"It’s too dangerous," he interrupted, voice urgent and pleading. "He’s watching everyone more closely now. If he finds out you're involved, I don't know what he'll do."

You shook your head faster, a hard sense of determination flaring in your chest. "We can’t, I can't. I need to figure something out. I need to help you."

Eris sat up straighter, grimacing at the motion as he reached out, his hand finding a firm but gentle on your wrist. "You need to stay safe, Y/N. Please. Nothing else matters."

You looked at him, brows furrowed and throat tight. Your strong, protective brother now reduced to pleading with you. You took a deep, ragged breath. “It all matters. I need to help you, okay? I need to make sure you have the upper hand."

Eris just shook his head, shook it so firmly and desperately that you could’ve sworn he was a teenager again, hand on yours as he scolded you for breaking something.

"Please," he repeated, his voice breaking. “Just listen to me."

A wave of helplessness washed over you, and now you felt small again, felt as if you’d shrunk in place. Your mind traveled back, throwing you into memories where you’d hide away from your father, fearing his disappointed hand, desperate for approval but receiving only pain. The same feeling bubbled in your chest.

You swallowed hard.  "I can't just stand by and do nothing."

Eris's eyes softened. "You want to help me? Stay safe.” 

You frowned, biting the inside of your cheek. The words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You couldn’t promise him that. You couldn’t lie. So instead, you turned your attention to his back, to the angry wounds that marred his skin. 

"Here, let me help you," you murmured. He gave you a long look, then nodded, slowly moving his body to expose more of his back to you. 

You moved your hand to his back. Heat surged through you, flickering at your fingertips. Your hands shook, trembled as you attempted to focus. You tried to channel it, to control that divine fire within you, but the energy was wild and unsteady. A self-loathing bite gnawed at you. 

"I can't—" you whispered, the words laced with frustration. 

Renard’s's taunting voice echoed in your mind. Too weak to do anything on your own.

Eris turned to look at you again, calm words breaking through the rising storm you felt inside your chest. "It's okay,” he said, “I can do it."

"I'm sorry.”

He shook his head at you, a small smile gracing his features. “There's nothing to be sorry for.”

There was something about the fact that he was able to smile, that he pulled such a gesture out for you, that made the bitter loathing inside of you spread even faster. 

"Just stay with me?” Eris asked. 

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Of course.”

With one hand, he held yours, and the other twisted over his back. You watched as his own hands began to heat up, glowing with a controlled, steady flame. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

All you felt was anger. All you saw was red.

Memories flashed in your mind, one after another. Eris’s bloodied wounds and the far-off look in his eyes, your mother hid away from the world and the echoes of her crying, being forced to clean the floors of your brother’s blood, your paralyzing inadequacies. It all twisted inside you, each image wrapping itself around your ribs, wounding itself tight enough to make you struggle to breathe.

You weren’t sure how you got here, but the smell of blood in the air tasted sweet on your tongue. Renard lay slumped in the metal chair. Despite his appearance, a mocking grin spread across his split lips as you entered.

“Come back for more, have you?” 

The sight of him, significantly more battered than the last time you’d seen him, brought a welcomed sense of satisfaction. At your sides, you clenched your fists until they were white. 

“I’m done playing,” you said, your voice a low, dangerous growl. “Tell me what you know.”

Renard’s grin widened, a cruel glint in his eyes. “I'm trembling in fear,” he mocked, “What's a dolled-up whore like you going to do?”

Something inside you snapped. 

With a snarl, you lunged forward, hands slamming down onto the metal chair. All the anger, all the pain, everything you’d been holding back, surged through you. The metal beneath your palms began to heat up, the sensation almost soothing in its intensity— cathartic, even. 

Renard’s eyes widened. “I already told you both, fuck, I already gave you all I know!” he shouted, painful groans leaving his mouth as the hot metal below him began to bite at his exposed skin. “We don’t know anything.”

“You’re a liar!” 

In the back of your mind, you grasped at your resolve, grasped at the strength you needed to keep your desperation hidden— all attempts proved futile. You grabbed Renard’s neck, fingers digging into his flesh as a simmering heat radiated down your arm. “Tell me what you know!” 

Renard’s screams filled the room, his body writhing in agony. “I don’t—” he choked out, voice hoarse with pain. You stared at your hand, stared at the flicker of flames that began had to grow, watched as they moved to Renard’s skin–

But before the flames could fully spread, black smoke enveloped your wrist, wrapping around it with a smothering, extinguishing touch. 

Not smoke—shadows. 

A hand grabbed you next, pulling you back with a rough hand. 

You pulled against the familiar grip. “Let me go, you foul-bred animal!” 

Azriel’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You struggled against him, but his hold was firm. 

Within a blink, you were winnowed to an open area in the forest, the sudden transition leaving your senses reeling. A cool breeze brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. You blinked. And then you pushed Azriel off, staggering back with the force of the motion. Your heart pounded with residual fury, a trickling sense of adrenaline still coursing through your veins. 

“What do you not understand about 'let me go'?” you spat, “Is there something in those bat genetics of yours that makes you lose brain functioning at random intervals?”

Azriel’s didn’t budge. “Do not go back there.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, Shadowsinger. I think it’s time I handle this on my own.”

“Handle it?” he echoed, his shadows curled at his fists. “You were about to burn him alive, losing control like some child throwing a tantrum.”

The color drained from your face. “And you’re the expert voice on self-control?”  The taste of resentment lingered on your tongue, sour and sickly familiar. “Where was this energy when you slaughtered and tortured my brother’s men? When they were being controlled, when they knew nothing?”

Azriel’s wings twitched almost imperceptibly. Your voice fell slightly to a tone lower, more raw. 

“Was what I was doing truly that bad, or do you only care that it’s me doing it?”

There was a beat. Azriel looked away before finding your eyes again. He shook his head, a small scowl on his face. “What are you implying?”

Something inside you shifted as you stared at him, every detail seemingly magnified, as if your emotions had sharpened your perception at last. You’d noticed this intensity around him, wrote it off as the thrill of an adversary. But you realized now, as Azriel stood before you, that he was something else entirely: a stark embodiment of everything you loathed, everything you sought to avoid, and everything you secretly craved. 

He wielded cruelty with impunity, praised for his ruthlessness, while his family basked in the warmth of love and freedom, despite their own moral shortcomings. And now he stood before you, a bastard-born nobody who had stumbled into luck, blind to anything beyond his own skewed perceptions. 

There was a defiant, knowing glint in your eyes, as if something had been confirmed— as if that you'd found the answer to some question you’d asked for centuries. 

“You are so desperately searching for some confirmation that I am as horrible as you’ve made me out to be.”

Azriel's eyes narrowed slightly. His demeanor remained outwardly composed, a practiced facade of stoicism and indifference, but the glow of his siphons gave him away. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You raised an eyebrow, fists slowly unfurling at your sides. Your breath was more even now.

“I understand more than you think. You’ve been waiting for me to slip, to prove that I’m just like—” 

“Beron.”

You paused, slighting flinching at how much contempt was fit into one word.

Eris. You were going to say Eris. Not Beron. Not your father. 

A flash of hurt crossed your face and something in Azriel’s chest tightened. His shadows fell into a frozen wreath around his arms. 

“Right,” you scoffed, moving to brush past him. “Then I better do a good job and prove you right.”

Azriel stopped you with a casual sidestep, wings flaring out to block your path further.  “Do not go back there.”

“I will do whatever the hell I please,” you hissed, meeting his gaze defiantly. There was a burning hatred in your eyes that he’d never felt before, something more foul and rotten than what had been there before. 

Azriel’s jaw clenched even further as he let out an angry breath. The strength of your gaze alone triggered his hand to instinctively wander to the dagger on his hip, to the cool steel of Truth-Teller. His shadows curled around his fingers, threading through them as if calling him back to reality. He blinked, and then pulled his hand away, flexing it as he looked at you once more.

“Why?” 

Azriel's voice was probing, his gaze searching—  scanning your face with a scrutiny that made you itch. 

“Why what?”  you snapped back, your tone sharper than you intended, the itch spreading, making you want to pace or scream, anything to shake off his intense stare, to rid yourself of the tightening in your chest.

“You’re desperate. This wasn’t as thought out as you tend to be.”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh, feeling the sound scrape against your throat. "Because you know me so well?" The words felt like ash on your tongue, a bitter taste lingering in your mouth.

“Yes,” he stated simply, his eyes piercing into yours still. “We’re allies. Explain yourself.”

"I was just trying to pick up your slack and get information." The lie rolled off your tongue naturally.

But Azriel wasn’t buying it. "No, that’s not it," he countered, "We’re working for the same side. There is no reason for you to go off like this."

You gritted your teeth, the pressure making your jaw ache.  “We are not working for the same side.”

“We have an alliance.”

His calm demeanor only fueled your frustration. Your hands fell into a familiar position at your side, curled into tight fists, your nails biting into your palms.

“Your alliance with Eris is to support him when he takes over the throne. But when it comes to Koschei, there is no doubt in my mind you’re willing to undermine your allies to get rid of his threat. And in doing so, you’ll endanger me and my family.”

Your voice was rising, the words spilling out in a rush of pent-up emotion. “ I want to— I need to know everything before any moves are made. My brother needs an edge to stay ahead, and he sure as hell isn’t going to get it if he’s playing by the rules and having to defend his every move because of this stupid agreement.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening to near black. “Eris wouldn’t need to defend himself if he wasn’t a vile snake.”

Rage boiled through you, its fiery grip yanking onto your stomach and your chest.The intensity of it casted a hazy glow, distorting your vision with its searing heat.

“I am fed up with your little group thinking that we need to beg for your forgiveness. Tell me, does it get cold on all of that moral high ground? Does the high horse ever get uncomfortable?”

You stepped closer to him, pushing against his chest with your finger, the contact sending a jolt up your arm. Azriel's hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly.

 "Perhaps Eris feels the need to beg for forgiveness because of the acts he’s committed.”

“And what has he done? Besides refusing to give in to every whim?” 

You tried to yank your hand free, but his grip held firm. Your pulse pounded in your temples, a steady, throbbing beat. You felt that familiar prickling feeling grow across your skin, a simmering fire creeping up your arm.

“He left Morrigan in those woods to die.”

He dropped your hand, the action almost dismissive, as if he couldn’t bear to touch you anymore. You pulled it back into you and took a step back, shaking your head. Of course. The thought echoed in your mind, bringing a bitter realization that settled like a stone in your stomach. 

“It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” 

Azriel’s expression hardened, centuries of a grudge etched into every line of his face. His shadows danced around him, dark tendrils coiling and writhing like live fire across his body. You felt it radiating off him in waves— a palpable hatred that made your skin prickle. It was a feeling so intense you wondered how he had managed to lessen it before, how he could bear to be inside you, even with you turned away.

“My brother didn’t put that nail in her. He didn’t touch her at all.”

Azriel’s eyes were hard as steel. “He left her there. Naked, scared, and dying.”

“He gave Morrigan mercy in the only way he knew how.” 

“You call that mercy?” 

“Yes! Eris was just as much of a child as Morrigan was.”

Every word felt rancid now, burned like bile in your throat, fueled by a protectiveness born from years of standing by your brother's side. You stepped closer to Azriel, not bothering to hold back the flames that now licked at your skin. His shadows coiled around his arms, formed an almost protective barrier around his clenched fists. 

“Do you know what my father would have done had Eris touched her, helped her at all? He didn’t take lightly to the disrespect and humiliation she passed. He would have made a public show and slaughtered her. Just as he later did with Jesminda.”

Azriel stayed quiet, stayed eerily still as he watched you. You didn’t expect a response. A new emotion curled itself into your gut, something much heavier than anger, than rage. You thought about Eris, thought about the lashes on his back, thought about how he used to stay awake at night to wander the halls, listening outside of your parent’s chambers in case your mother needed help. You thought about how he’d helped you bury Jesminda, how he’d kept a figurine of Lucien’s to give to you. 

No matter what he did, or what you did for him, he would never be free— not truly. Not from his past and the assumptions people have made of him. He would always be cruel. And you, in association, would always be evil. Vile. It was in your family's nature. You felt foolish for thinking otherwise, for not learning how to take your rage and make it something useful, forge it into a weapon, train it like a beast to eat the remaining shreds of your empathy.

Eris deserved better. He was better than Rhysand. He was better than the male that stood before you. 

"But none of this matters to you," you continued, your voice tinged with bitterness and resignation. "Even if it's the truth.”

Azriel’s wings twitched. You didn’t need further confirmation that your words held true. He would never accept a version of that night besides his own, because a version that included the truth would force him to see Eris as something other than a wicked, evil male. As long as your brother was worse than Azriel, as long as there was someone worse than him, he’d never have to face the fact that he wasn’t as good of a male as he claimed to be.

"You make excuses for your brother, but where are yours?" Azriel finally spoke. "You've done cruel things. You've hurt people. Killed people." His gaze flickered to your fists wreathed in flames. "Burned them alive," he added.

The fire at your arms grew in response to his words.  You cocked your head. And then you ignored him. "You threatened my life. At that High Lord’s meeting—  you lost control, put my brother in a chokehold, and threatened my life."

Azriel's nostrils flared and his siphons began to shine with a dangerous, angry glow. 

"I dare you to live up to your word, Shadowsinger," you challenged, taking a slow step towards him. "I'm here. I've been here.” His eyes traced your every movement. 

“And yet, you've just fucked me."

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a mix of anger and shame that he quickly masked behind a veil of indifference. But you saw it, felt it, reveled in it.

"You're weak, Azriel," you said, voice low and calm. "A slave to your anger, to your impulses, to your High Lord. You have always been weak."

He blinked at the sound of his name falling from your lips, a wave of uncertainty washing through his face. But his eyes stayed on you, still burning, still angry. They simmered hotter now, heavier with a new strain of contempt. 

Your breath escaped in a half-hearted chuckle. "It's a pity," you said, shaking your head slightly. Your flame dwindled to a faint firefly glow. "To see such a pretty face marred by blind devotion."

With one final glance, you turned on your heel and winnowed away. You didn’t see Azriel again for two more weeks. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

←Part Three

guys.... the next part is one of my favorites tehehehe cause its mainly just azriels perspective and where his mind is at. PLUS this is where those content warnings start to get lighter :DDDD

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[blackkwidowed]

Imagine kissing Nats bruises and scars after a mission and just being soft and showing her so much love.

I just wanna give Nat a hug tbh

just the entire concept of nat finding it so hard to be vulnerable around anyone but you is both heartbreaking yet the softest most adorable shit ever. here's a little drabble. some darker themes here as well i guess. also, best friend bucky? you got a taste of that here as well. also haven't proofread so sorry

•

When the few team mates arrive back off a mission, there's a dark, almost sad, atmosphere among them. Natasha, Bucky, and Clint had gone together for a few days to track something down. They'd come back early, empty handed, bruised, beaten down and overall, unsuccessful.

Natasha had looked the most upset. She hadn't been crying or anything, she just looked glum. She looked like she'd seen something no one wants to see.

Immediately you say your hellos to everyone, glad that they made it back safely and in once piece- albeit a few bruises and minor injuries. Something had happened out there.

You pull Natasha into your arms and there's something about the way she relaxes and sinks against you that makes your concern skyrocket. Fingers running through her hair, you cup the base of her skull in your hand and bring the other to her cheek for her to look at you. "What happened, my love?"

She sighs, the kind of sigh that speaks for itself.

"We found a group of kids. They'd all been locked up by these asshole guys we were trying to find. They'd been brainwashed. Beaten. Taken from their families and forced into whatever the hell kind of project that's been lined up for them."

You flinch, closing your eyes and repeating Natasha's sigh from before. You understand now.

"Got jumped by some security who've had training from God knows where. Good enough to get some hits in, put it that way." She cranes her neck a little, moves her hair out the way, enough to show the budding purple mark under her ear that's making it way across her jaw. "Powerful bunch, these guys. We're gonna need some more planning before we go back in there."

You nod in agreement, tracing your finger gently across the mark and pressing a soft, barely there kiss to the skin.

"Are you okay?" It comes as a whisper, gentle and only just loud enough for her to hear it. "I mean, I know you're not okay as such just. What do you need?"

She smiles gently at you, pushing herself closer to you again and resting her nose in the crook of your neck. "This is good."

You press a kiss to the side of her head, looking up at the guys who're now sat at the breakfast bar of the kitchen, also looking on like they've seen a ghost. You can't help but feel sorry for whatever they've seen, it takes a lot to have them left feeling like this.

You send Nat to your room, telling her you'll be up there in a moment and to get changed out of her suit. Quickly, you make your way over to the boys and rest a hand on each of their shoulders. "You need anything you know where I am, alright?"

They thank you thoroughly, Bucky even slinging an arm around your waist and squeezing lightly as a thank you. "Take care of her, yeah? I think, maybe, she's reminded of everything she went through. It's hit her, this one. Just take care of her."

Bucky's smile is laced with pain, heartache. You don't see him like this often either. You nod at him. "Of course."

-

What you find in your room is enough to make you angry. Nat's got a fair few bruises, and it makes you want to track down the bastard(s) that managed to leave such a mark on her soul.

She's sat on the end of the bed, glancing over the hand shaped mark on her arm where she'd been grabbed and thrown just hours earlier. She's not even mad that she let her guard down. Normally she'd be upset with herself, but she can't think about it.

You perch at the head of the bed against the pillows, beckoning her over in a gentle tone. She settles into your side and curls an arm around you tightly, as if she's frightened you'll leave. It only makes you grip her tighter.

Peppering gentle kisses to the side of her face, she sighs in relief and sinks somehow deeper into you, nuzzling into your neck. You're warm, familiar, comforting, you're everything she needs in a time of need.

"Thank you," she whispers against your skin.

"For what, baby?"

"Being here when I need you."

You smile softly, raising a hand to her face and brushing your fingers across her cheek. You kiss her softly, slowly, so gentle she has to pull you even closer so you'll kiss her firmer. Your lips move against hers and it might just be the highlight of Natasha's day, feeling you like this.

"You don't ever have to thank me. You know that's what I'm here for." You continue stroking her cheek, down her neck, and back up. Touches like this are her favourite. It warms her heart when she remembers the bruise on the side of her face, and the fact that your touch is so gentle against her skin that the contact with the bruise doesn't bother her even a little bit. "I love you."

Natasha hums softly, moving to lay on top of you now. She kisses you again, whispering against your mouth. "I love you."

You hold her close, hands running across her hips, fingers trailing up her back. She lays on you, nuzzled in and as close as possible. You don't ever want either of you to move, this is where you're content. This is your happy place.

She's relaxed now, happier, and you know today's at the back of her mind still but for a moment, she can forget about it. She feels safe now, comforted. You're her happy place, her everything, her lifeline. To her, you make it worth it.

"Get some sleep for me okay?" You murmur into her hair.

You feel her nod against where she lays on your chest. "Only if i can stay here."

You give a soft laugh, rubbing a hand up her back and tangling into red hair. "Always."

[pascals-doll]

GATÚBELA

ellie williams x reader

『••✎••』 in which you go to a party to forget about your cheating ex, who would’ve thought you’d find yourself falling in love at some reggaeton function. | WC: 9.3K

🫧 THIS IS A SERIES | FOR ALL PARTS GO HERE

🫧 SERIES MASTERLIST | CH.2 HERE

🫧 with all the talk in the fandom of inclusivity and needing a plot, my ass was busy whippin up exactly that! 💋 i hope you babies enjoy genuinely since this is my first series!

🫧 karol g and baby miko is 2846% of my playlist tbh

🫧 description: MODERN AU! FUNCTION BEHAVIOR, SUGGESTIVE CONTENT ONLY! latina!reader, detailed description of reader having tan/tawny brown skin!, bff!dina, mentions of drinking and smoking, mentions of toxic relationship, mentions of reader being cheated on, READER IS NOT IDENTIFIED WITH HER SEXUALITY (SHE HIGHKEY KNOW SHE GAY THO SHE NOT DUMB), mentions twerking/yiking (lol when i said function behavior i meant it)!, cocky masculine!ellie, mention of y/n once (___), use of nick name (mama), kissing!

CHAPTER ONE

“fuck him girl, what you need is a good drink and a good dance”

your dearest bestfriend Dina says, passing you the ‘Dutch’ you rolled.

the ‘him’ in question was your now ex-boyfriend. you had walked into his home 2 nights ago.

at first, you found him on his bed, he already seemed startled to begin with which was a dead-giveaway already then the girl walking out of his restroom in your towel was enough to have you walking through that front door.

you couldn’t lie and say getting cheated on didn’t hurt. it just didn’t hurt in the way you thought it would. if anything, you had felt an undertone of overwhelming relief even with that pang of pain.

“so are we outside? or are we outside?” your bestfriend asks, actually giving you no option as she is already looking through your closet.

“how could i ever tell you no” you spoke out through the exhalation of your smoke before handing her the blunt.

“girl, we are walking farther than our waiting spot!” your half-way tipsy-self giggles out, grabbing Dina as you both lean on the staircase outside of Dina’s apartment building.

the sounds of heels clacking on the concrete through the shared tipsy giggles you both shared as the both of you begin to feel the shots of Don Julio and Fireball Dina offered as a pregame.

“uber comes in 6” Dina says, before putting her phone away inside her big black fur coat that temporarily covered her matching black two-peice.

it was a corset top that hugged her breasts perfectly with the matching flared leggings that had cut-outs on her thick hips, finishing it off with white heels.

“enough time for a smoke” you smirk out which Dina returned before beginning to dig in your mini white purse.

you were wearing a skin-tight halter white dress sparkled with light gold gems that brought out the natural bronze of your skin, hugging all your curves perfectly, exposing your tattoos that sprinkled around your arms, and your thick gold hoops that had ‘CHULA’ written through.

once you had what was left of the blunt from earlier in between your lips, you began to pull out your light from in your long dark-brown leather coat that was complimeted by your dark brown heeled-boots.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

flashing lights of green, red, and blue fading into each other through each flash as you both make your way through the house-party; music from the loud speakers ringing through the both of your ears.

the body heat from all the dancing sweaty bodies engulfing the blaring atmosphere as you pushed through different to people to find your way to the drink station.

“what can i get you ladies, tonight” the server says, mixer in his hand as he was mid-way of making this woman’s mojito.

Dina, of course using all her little flirtatious tricks to rouse free drinks out of him.

you both walk away with accomplished smiles, your pure lime Daiquiri in hand and cherry Mojito in Dina’s.

Dina was also able to convince the server to take care both of your coats, everything that was in your coats now being in your purse’s. he hung your jackets on these hooks right next to where the kitchen begins and home-bar ends.

“may we get swept off our feet by a hot duo!” Dina cheers out, putting her glass in the air.

“amen sista’!” you clink your glasses together before walking off into the sweaty-crowded dance floor.

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing: gatúbela

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

the loud speaker boomed the slight beats, immediately feeling each of the beats go through your body as you feel yourself get hyped to one of your favorite songs begin to play; knowing the drop is gonna come.

it felt like it was destined as you hit the dance floor. immediately grabbing Dina’s hand where she knew exactly what her dance-crazed friend was gonna do with the little liquor in her system; aka you.

you felt the need to make it to the middle of the dance floor before song actually began.

you heard the lyrics engulfing your ear, the drank being the only thing to influence you and your body right now.

Dina automatically taking your free hand, putting it up in the air as your bodies began to whine together to the beat.

both your hips matching each beat smoothly as y’all began to pull people’s attention from around the room.

“estaba loca por casarte, haćertelo rico yo! ojalá puedà quedarte” you and dina began to sing, your bodies beginning to gyrate swiftly towards each other; completely lost in the atmosphere, liquor, and music.

the upbeat rhythm of the reggaeton beat boomed only making your sexy rhythm on Dina faster.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie wasn’t much for the party scene, she liked the occasional harmless flirting and eye candy to be as a entertainment for her as she smoked her way through the party, only taking a couple shots with Jesse.

Jesse had a friend, Gustavo. he was going to be dj-ing at some house party tonight and when it came down to Jesse, no was not an option to Ellie.

anyways, thats how Ellie ended up in the humid party, standing where she was now; watching all surf-wave of crowded bodies getting down.

she stood there, joint in her hand as her cropped white muscle-tee hugged her chest and exposed her toned abdomen.

she had on jeans, bagging them so her nike pro boxer-lining to peek out.

there was lots of beautiful women at this party, but she was almost falling asleep as Jesse was already flirting with a second girl.

just as she brought the joint to her lips, there you were.

ellie could only spot your silhouette at first.

your shadow was revealed shortly, glowing under the bright dance-floor lighting.

it seemed like Ellie wasn’t the only one you were able to captivate, almost enchanting the whole room.

it was now, you and Dina who were killing it on that dance floor.

random strangers hyping the both of you as some even attempt to get closer to try to dance with the both of you.

it was everything about you that captured her completely. the way your hair moved along with your golden earrings shining with every movement of your body and your tawny skin glistening.

she observed the way you danced and to be frank the way your dress hugged those beautiful curves of yours.

Ellie was salivating at the mouth, you were like a flash-photo moment that would be forever engraved into her membrane.

Jesse had came back with two shots of tequila, she immediately grabbed her shot. not wasting time, ellie needed to get to that dance floor before the end of this fucking song.

“white dress and black dress. spotlight. white dress is mine.” ellie points out quickly, downing the shot and handing the joint to Jesse.

ellie practically flew down those stairs.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you continued to gyrate your hips sensually.

Dinas hand’s running up’n’down your body as you did the same, both feeling hot under the spell of the music.

you took a couple steps back as your perreo got more confident, slight cheers from women and men ogling the both of you as they try to get closer.

Esto e' una foto porque yo no 'toy pintá

Ya 'toy elevada, me siento gatúbela

Y ese huerfanito necesita una mamá

🫧

you accidentally felt your ass bump up against someone.

“im so sorry!” you yelled over the music, you felt relief once you seen it was a woman, frankly dreading it to be a male.

she was gorgeous in such a different way; she wasn’t a feminine woman and she looked better than any actual man youve ever seen or been with, especially dressed the way she was.

“go head’ mama” was all the fine woman said, signaling that she wanted you to dance; no. throw it on her.

she grabbed the hand that had been on her shoulder as a small friendly gesture to quickly hold it to spin you around.

you were picky if you danced with someone, but boy, you were about to give this girl a show.

🫧

Ay, qué rico!

Cuando me pone el panty de ladito

¡Ay, qué rico!

Ese besito dámelo abajito

each lyric of each beat of that verse was grind and a twerk from your ass on her crotch as her hips rocked into you; it was definitely the alcohol that made ellie this bold.

she followed your rhythm and one hand set on your waist softly as you balanced yourself with your hands on your knees.

she took the free hand that she used to run through her hair, contemplating how she can handle all that, to bring it down to hold your dress down from riding up.

Ay, bendito!

En cuatro yo te pongo rapidito

Mmm, bendito

No me coma' tan rico, papacito

🫧

‘thank god for Jesse and that tequila shot’

the little voice in ellies head thought before quickly vanishing, the only thing on ellie was how fucking horny you made her because of how unbelievably sexy you were.

the small gesture just made you feel secure, only making you pushed your ass into her completely at this point.

the slight tipped over stance you had was now turned into fully bent over as she was practically dry-fucking your shaking ass in-front of the crowd.

Ellie looked around the crowded room, men looked at with her with envy as some women looked at you with hatred which only fueled her ego completely.

she bit her lip as she felt the cockiest smirk smear across her face as she lifted her leg and began to grinding into your ass in complete dog-like motion.

the little bit of friction between the small of your panty brushing across the hard of her zipper which only made your stomach bubble wantingly.

the room might’ve been filled with people and blaring lights but Ellie swore you were the only person in this entire place.

everyone who surrounding the both of you completely fading into a black abyss. it was only the two of you.

the only thing in the moment right now that mattered was this sun-kissed beauty she was dancing with.

there was no way in hell this was the weed or the alcohol.

she wished she could stay here for the rest of her life, not even the fact that you were dancing on her; but the fact it was just you.

your grinds got slower and slower which seemed to bring ellie back down to earth.

the song was ending but this couldn’t.

you thought you would have to pull yourself off and watch as she walked away from you after getting what she wanted, what you thought she wanted.

the auburn hair woman offered you her hand to walk you away from the crowd after you bent yourself back up.

her demeanor felt as sharp as a knife yet her eyes gleamed so gently at you.

ellie’s heart was pounding, her heartbeat drowning out her own sound of the music.

“my-my name’s Ellie!” the woman leaned in slightly so you could hear her over her own heartbeat mixed with the booming music.

you could see her hazel eyes were hooded although they still managed to shine through, mostly cause of the mixture of weed and alcohol.

you had gone nervous under her gaze, the unfamiliar feeling making you a bit uncomfortable but yet she made you comfortable.

you let a nervous smile creep onto your face “nice to meet you Ellie!, my name is ___”

you hated how you had to shout over the music then getting pushed slightly getting pushed by different people as they surround another couple.

you whipped your head, stepping your feet closer to the circle to be nosy and see who it was.

‘shit! where’s Dina?’ you thought.

Ellie noticed how your attention got pulled away to the new crowd of people, sharing your focus. the dance light once again blares down onto the dancing couple.

“Dina!?”

“Oh my god! Jesse!”

the both of you looked at each other.

Ellie found this slightly funny as she couldn’t believe Jesse did the exact same thing.

you share the laugh she had slightly let out before hyping up your bestfriend as she really got into it.

“im guessing you two are bestfriends?” you lean into her ear to question.

Ellie felt your hot breath graze her ear which caused the invisible blimps of her skin to chill-up.

“yeah, i would ask you the same but i already know.” Ellie slys out, looking down at you with a growing want that glints through her pupils.

“excuse me?” you joked out, you were caught slightly off-gaurd.

“you smoke?!” Ellie practically had to shout over the cheering of Dina and Jesse’s very own yiking session.

you gave her a nod which ellie returned with a lick of her lips and signal to the door from her head.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

there was a lot of people outside that actually had the same idea as you two.

you looked around, stumbling slightly on your feet as you weren’t your most sober.

“could i help you? im guessing you’re a bit drunk” Ellie hands go out to catch you incase you were to loose your balance.

“aren’t you so sweet to the girl who just twerked on you. im s’sorry by the-” you slurr out the slightest bit.

ellie shook her head with a smirk of disbelief written all over her face, turning one arm to you slightly to intertwine with.

you gladly accepted her arm “what?” you question as she began to walk you always from the house party. although you were intoxicated you were never so smitten with someone like this.

“nothing to be sorry about here” ellie said, looking up at you as she pulled out a small black cylinder tube from her pocket.

the way her eyes looked at you as the streelights reflected them made your heart race like a pre-teen with their first crush.

you watched through your own droopy eyes her take the joint from the tube in between her lips “you gotta lighter?” she snaps you out of your daze, you had been staring longer than you thought.

“uh-yes! i actually have a whole other blunt in here?” you reply, questioning yourself at the end as you dig in your purse.

it ignited a laugh from Ellie which for some reason echoed through your ears straight to your heart “here ya’go” you hand her your lighter.

she knew you were different, there was no other woman like you. Ellie couldn’t compare even if she tried.

this drove her even more crazy, remembering how women wished they were you in a matter of seconds.

she frankly found it attractive how you handed her a gold-plated lighter, it was fancy too; being one you had to refill.

you could’ve handed her a regular BIC lighter but you didn’t just cause you didn’t have one. you weren’t simple, she knew that off the bat and it yearned for ellie to know more.

“i really like your lighter….’our lady’ ” Ellie compliments, reading the engraved lettering.

she ran her thumb ran over the small painted Virgencita.

she felt her heart swoon even more. she could feel her mind race along with her heart; dying with anticipation.

the anticipation to completely dive herself into your life, create her own little space right next to you, your life. she already wanted to take you home with her and have breakfast in bed.

she wanted to get with you right now and just call you yours.

your energy invisibly mixing with hers creating an unconscious spiritual tug on each other’s hearts.

“thank you—aye!, gotta be protected even as you smoke.” you pointed at her, looking at her playfully serious.

“is that so? i think you’re gonna need to tell me more.” ellie puffed out with a smirk, handing you the joint.

she could feel you grow nervous under your hazy-self which only made her persuasion flourish.

you felt the piney-terpenes fog your brain quicker and create an inner warmth for the skeleton of your body as you inhale the rough smoke with ease.

you grew hot under her gaze not knowing if it was your body flushing or the mix of drugs for the the night.

“so tell me, did you plot on me?” you bluntly ask, passing the joint.

the weed diminishing whatever of was left of your cautious- veil; feeling yourself fall vulnerable with the stranger.

“i wouldn’t necessarily say plot. i had seen a beautiful woman and i just needed to dance with her.”

ellie’s voice echoed through your ears causing goosebumps on your skin. you were acting like you had never been flirted with before and it was embarrassing.

you straighten yourself up, digging in your purse to get your phone. you weren’t trying to disregard her compliment but you also came to your senses.

but to ellie, it sure felt like you did.

you unlocked your phone.

12:05 AM

it was just past midnight and as nice as this was….

you shook your head trying to recollect in your mind what to say “uhm-im sorry—you’re really nice—err, we should check on our friends.” you stammered across your words, biting your lip as you felt bad.

Ellie agreed as her mind began to race.

are you not gay?

had she been delusional?

did she read this all the wrong way?

she felt like an idiot as she handed you the joint. she felt your hand shiver as your fingertip grazed her knuckles.

you both began to walk off into the party, leaving the both tension-filled.

the both of you pushed through, ellie staying hot on your heels to not loose you within the surf of people.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

it didn’t take you long to find your brunette bestfriend with her large fur coat back on as she seemed enthralled with Jesse at the bar, sat on the stool with her on his lap.

you both approached them and they soon look your direction with big drunk smiles “Ellie! ma’girl of the night!” Jesse drunkily exclaims, taking his hand out in dap-up motion.

ellie didn’t seem so confident and assured this time as she approached him with a slight smile and seemed to put any emphasis into their gesture; you picked up on this.

now it was you that bombarded yourself with questions.

have you made a complete total fool of yourself?

did she think i didn’t like it?

how could you pratically dry fuck the girl and then shut her down like that?

does she think i shut her down?

you didn’t know what to think or what you were even thinking, i mean…did you like her? it was obvious she wasn’t straight and well you….honestly was never quite sure.

you knew you felt like shit now, she had been giving you all her energy.

you were too busy in your head to even listen.

“Ya heard that, girl? that ass got her in-love” Dina teased out, looking in-between you and ellie as her eyebrows wiggle.

you heard ellie scoff as she scratched the back of her neck, she continued to look at her feet.

you grabbed your coat which you knew Dina must have brought back, sliding in through both of your arms before your heels clicked closer to Ellie’s side.

“is that so? i think you’re gonna need to tell me more.”

you felt yourself bubble up confidently, it was your turn to smirk as you spoke.

ellie immediately whipped her head up as you stole her line from earlier.

it was visible Ellie flushed as crimson creeped onto her cheeks “what would you like to drink? it’s only fair since you took me for a sesh.” you offer, your arm interlinking with her mimicking the exact same actions except you were the instigator this time.

now ellie felt like a deer in headlights, caught off guard slightly. she didn’t except you to reciprocate the same confidence.

you both sat on the chairs next to Jesse and Dina.

“what could i get you two?” the bartender ask “i’ll be having a Michelada and hottie right here will have…" you say, making eye contact once you called her a ‘hottie’.

you could see ellie’s tongue poke through her cheek, trying to bite back amusement.

ellie swore you were going to make her heart explode with how fast it had been beating for the past hour.

“water with lime, thank you.” ellie replies, not even looking at the bartender when she said thank you. only you in her peripheral.

you were in utter perfect view for her, she could take in every feature and detail of your body.

the black wing-liner illuminating the natural shine of your gaze as your lips were complimented by a faded brown outline that blended in perfectly each time you smiled.

“so, is it my ass or me you fell in love with?”

“in love a strong word, mama” she quirked back.

that little nickname shot right through your ears straight to your stomach, fluttering it at the recollection.

you giggled and god, ellie didn’t think someone’s laugh could be so infectious.

“they were right though” ellie bit her lip slightly, not really wanting to look up at you as she referes to what Jesse and Dina said earlier.

she didn’t realize you were too in your head to pay attention.

“and what’s that exactly?”

“you really into repeating things, huh?” Ellie jokes out which you playfully roll your eyes too.

“wouldn’t you like to know…” your tone was suggestive as you leaned into her.

you weren’t quite sure what you were doing but it almost all felt natural now like you were meant to be; here, doing this, with her.

ellie thought she was delusional, hearing things and seeing things.

“i don’t dance—not like that, but you—whew…i wasn’t lying outside. im lucky it got to be you” ellie continues to insuinate teasingly, completely dazed under the bright light orange lighting illuminating from the bar-lights.

your makeup was almost cat-like making your eyes almost seem black by the dark eyeliner that tranced along your eyes.

you even had tattoos that speckled across your arms, she knew you had more and oh to explore those….

ellie was able to finally take in your jewelry, you had your very own name-plated gold necklace that dazzled amongst your natural russet-glow.

you were fiddling with one of your gold hoops which she observed as she read CHULA going through the earring.

ellie was shamelessly eye-fucking you, she knew it wasn’t appropriate.

it had only hit midnight and this green-eyed beauty was ready to get her car keys and tuck you into her bed, she could care less about anything let alone anyone as she lost herself in you.

she didn’t even realized but ellie had been unconsciously leaning into you, feeling the warmth of your aroma.

just like that, the drinks were being slid infront of you.

you would say you sipped your michi once you got it, but liquid courage amirite?

“how many women have you used that on, hm?” you play it off, feeling yourself become overwhelmed by the hedonistic feelings she urged from your heart.

it was unfamiliar to you, she was a woman and she’s the first to challenge you.

ellie’s expression furrowed as she raises the glass to her face.

your bold and catty personality intimidated men. you couldn’t remember the last time you grew nervous under male attention.

yet here you were, using your all to keep a cool composure with this woman.

she intimidated you. you didn’t like it, yet it was something you would now yearn for like a new drug.

“my first and i hope my last.”

ellie’s voice was above a meer whisper but you heard her loud and clear as your faces were just inches away from each other.

your tense auras begged to kiss, it seemed destined, almost too natural.

your eyes jumped in between her dulcet green eyes and her plumped lips.

it took everything in ellie not crash her lips onto yours, she didn’t want to scare you off.

it was almost like she knew something was up.

yet, you still inched closer.

you let the energies talk to each other almost, your central-egos almost fighting to accept but it was too insatiable.

your lips connect ever so softly. they fell so perfectly into each other, connecting like two magnets.

ellie could sense your hesitation which confused her but she tried her best to ease you by her kisses being peck-like.

ellie’s lips were so soft, it felt like you were kissing a cloud almost.

it felt like your lips had already been connected for centuries, familarized with the shape and movement.

the perfect sync was created between your kiss, you felt yourself fall into her as all your weary thoughts dwindle away.

you had suddenly forgetten why you were so hesitant.

you forgot why you were embarrassed earlier.

you forgot about the stressful morning you had with handling break-up messages.

hell, you had forgotten about him.

she completely belittled the memory of ever getting cheated on, as if it never happened.

by now, your faces were flushed together lips moving in quick hot-sync; far gone from the small little pecks now.

ellie could taste your lip-gloss.

was that watermelon flavor? oh my god…

you could feel ellie’s lip slightly quiver as she tried to get more access to your mouth, wanting to explore it more with tongue.

you give in easily as her steady warm-breathing through her nostrils were enough to make your body fuzzed up.

you wished to her closer to you, craving more of the bliss she brought you.

it was almost like ellie could sense you, she could feel and see each and every thought you had.

if that was the case, you would’ve scared the poor girl off by now.

she leaned closer into the kiss, her tongue lightly swiping at the bottom of your lip to pick up more of your flavored-gloss.

ellie’s hand rested on your lower knee, her thumb caressing figures onto your skin.

your breathing was staggered as you struggled to continue to kiss her, making yourself almost forceful as you try to continue.

it was almost too easy.

she made you too easy.

something a man could never conquer out of you.

you found yourself having to end up paying at the end of the night due to you leaving your brainless date there.

yet, everything that she oozed of attracted you like a fly to a lightbulb.

then everything stopped, almost like a vinyl abruptly screeching-stop on a record player.

she had pulled away from you, she looked a bit concerned “you okay?” ellie tried looking in your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

you were sure a slight flushed out hue was evident on your face as a mix of embarrassment and heat from the kiss.

jesus, can you get anymore embarrassing

you mentally scolded—you wish you could bitch-slap yourself right now.

you turned your stool back to your drink on the table, not looking at ellie but your glass.

a pool of water ringed around under the glass after you both left your drinks to let the ice-cubes melt in.

you fiddled with your straw as you drank from your glass “ya’ never make a woman breatheless before?” you tried to play coy.

you squinted at her playfully as you sipped “you could have anyone here and you know if.” she bit her lip, sneering out.

you were taken aback at by her gruffness, you didn’t deny the fact as you opened your mouth to respond—

“EVERYONE GO THE FUCK HOME! THE POLICE IS ON THERE WAY! GO THE FUCK HOME, THE CLUB, I DONT CARE! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT MY HOUSE! THANK YOU EVERYBODY HAVE A BLESSED NIGHT!” (random party host dude)

crowds began to scatter as the music abruptly stops, shrieks from some people rang through the building. it was almost a natural instinct grabbing ellie’s hand.

“we took an uber here!” you heard Dina explain as you ran up to her.

“Ellie drove, we’ll drop you off! we need to leave now!” Jesse shouts, pointing to the balcony that was slid wide open by others that ran out.

you stayed close to Dina as she held onto Jesse and you held onto ellie.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

the way the four of you ran together off into ellie’s car.

Ellie driving away while your in the passenger as Dina and Jesse make-out in the back.

you watching the police cars speed past you, unknowing that you were ever at that party.

Ellie’s eyes bounced in between her view and her car mirror; you had folded down to reapply your lip combo not too long ago.

she would steal glances at you, meeting your eyes occasionally.

the way your eyes sparkled as you grew shy that she caught you staring at her drive.

it was all canon, planned by divine timing.

so you could imagine how disheartening it was when ellie arrived to not yours, but Dina’s address.

Jesse and Dina stepped out first, it was almost like they wanted to give you a moment alone.

there was a moment of silence between the two of you as your eyes burned into each other.

you both wanted to soak in this cloud y’all created.

“give me your phone.” you beamed out, glow illuminating through her windscreen from Dina’s apartment lights.

you took one last good look at Ellie.

you took in the way her freckles sprinkled across her face, her pink lips pursed, and her skin glistened through by the light.

ellie gave you a loopy grin which made you giggle.

you began to tap away on her phone, creating your contact.

gatúbela 💋

111-222-33444

you opened her camera, turning the flash on. you straighten your posture before doing a quick wink as the picture snapped.

Ellie’s eyes just gawked into you, a lip tugged between her teeth.

you knew exactly who you were and Ellie couldnt wait to fucking find out.

“you give your number out to just anyone?” ellie teases, playing questionaire like you; earlier in party.

“you’re the first i give my real one too!” you giggled out which caused ellie to laugh along with you.

“im actually very flattered, mama” the nickname seemed too natural now, it was officially reserved for you and ellie didn’t even know.

now it was you biting your lip, stopping from smiling like an idiot at the epithet she referred to you as before.

she smirked as she looked down at the contact, the name of the song that was playing when you both were dancing.

you unlooped your mini-purse from around your arm, digging in it.

“here, so you don’t forget about me”

you put your chocolate lipliner in her cupholder.

just like that, you were exiting her car as Jesse took the passenger seat you were once sat in.

you walked off into the midnight, entering through dark apartment building.

ellie spent the rest of her night replaying every moment of you like her favorite movie.

ellie couldn’t forget you, not after tonight.

she is going to see you again, she would make sure of it.

dolls-taglist : ̗̀➛ @snowy-vee @elliesleftflap @tphmnv @starrkissezz @we-loveebony @lavenderhazelsworld @liasxeatt @marsworlddd @littlegingerperson5 @kissthedewdrops @elliewilliamsgirl3 @graviewaviee @gato-chino @elliesgf1244 @deliriousrn @cosmopolitanaut @yumimak @elliewilliamgfooc @bunnyrose01 @bready101

to join taglist click here !

[coff33andb00ks]

45 + lando caus i need some angst in my life rn

"Lies. Just lies."

driver + number = drabble <3

angst and lando go together like me and red flag men tbh

warnings: angst, mentions of mental health struggles, accusations of cheating, lando's not a good bf

He hasn't looked right lately. He hasn't looked right since...

Miami, really. Once the exuberance of his first win wore off he's been... Different.

At first you could ignore it. Lando prefers it that way - just ignore it until he's ready to talk about it. He'll always struggle with his mental health, you're aware of that, and over the course of your relationship you've grown accustomed to how he handles it. You may not always agree with how he does, but you can only stand by his side and offer support.

Rather, you would, if he'd let you.

"You don't have to come this weekend," he's saying as he packs up for the trip to Austria.

You blink,freezing in front of the closet. You know that most of the other girlfriends and wives don't go to that race - darling there's literally nothing to do? - but it's one of your favorite tracks. The scenery, the atmosphere... You love going there.

Lando knows this. And he doesn't want you to go.

"Heading straight home after the race, spend a couple days with the family," he continues, either not noticing or not caring that you're looking at him with annoyance and worry. Zipping up his suitcase, he pushes it to the floor and rolls his shoulders. "So I'll see you at mum's?"

Don't say it don't say it don't say it–

"Oh am I allowed to go there?" you ask, surprised at the bitter coldness in your tone. You can remember when snapping like that would have Lando overflowing with apologies and reassurances. Now, he barely flinches, and you feel dread chilling your heart.

"Go. Don't. It's whatever," he says, his jaw tense.

"Lando–"

"I get it, alright?" He grabs the hoodie lying on the bed and pulls it on. "You don't like my family anyway."

"What are you talking about? I love them," you insist.

He snorts, running his fingers through his hair. "Sure."

And you finally snap. Fuck waiting around for him to be ready to talk. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Lando isn't meeting your eyes. "Nothing," he says, gathering his wallet and phones. "Just tired."

"For almost two months?" you ask, trying to keep your voice calm. "You've been like this since Miami–"

"Like what?" he asks, and you notice he's growing more tense.

You gesture aimlessly. "This," you whisper. "What happened?"

He opens his mouth and you hear his slow inhale. But instead of speaking, he snaps his mouth closed and shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm just stressed, okay?"

The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Did you cheat on me?"

"Babe no, of course not. I'm just... Tired."

"Not too tired to go out every weekend."

"So I can't have any fun?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"Lando, we–" You stop when you see him grabbing the handle of his suitcase. "Lan–"

"I gotta go. I'll see you in England. Or not."

"We promised we'd talk about problems, Lando," you say, following him from the bedroom. "You said–"

"Lies. Just lies." He slaps a cap onto his head. "Because neither of us wants the truth do we?"

And with that, he leaves, the slam of the door echoing in the apartment.

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul series | Namjoon entry 💜 Closer

GIF by namchyoon

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: Namjoon and you were friends for years — he was your confidant, protector, and haven. You didn’t want to risk it, no matter what, but some things can’t be kept in the dark.

WORD COUNT: 8.2k

GENRE: friends to lovers, smut (it's lovemaking tbh)

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: reader is shy and introverted, mentions of anxiety, being in the dark in an agitated crowd (reader is safe w/ NJ), fear of losing a friendship, porn w/ plot (lovemaking, or my version of it), unprotected sex (wrap it up), dry humping, riding, they're both shy and idiots in love but they make it 💜

A.N. Is this a slow burn? Am I searingly slowly taking you all on the journey that is kissing and feeling Kim Namjoon? Some could say there was no need to describe it in such detail. They would be wrong 💜

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

Someone called your name and you looked up.

“Come on! Don’t fall behind!”

You gasped mutely and rushed in between the ever-growing crowd to join your friends and coworkers atop the stairs. The line wasn’t too big tonight but you still preferred to stay close to them — no way you wanted to be left alone in a bar street in Itaewon in the middle of the night. You pressed your hands nervously, looking around while your friends laughed about something you didn’t hear. No, you didn’t want that. There could be weird people and drunk people, and you were the designated driver anyway—

“Hey!” 

You blinked at Juhyun through your eyeglasses with big wide brown eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“Come along!” She sighed, extending her hand so you’d grab it, and you did with relief.

You gave your coat at the reception with a polite head bow, following closely after everyone. The noise hit your ribcage with the force of an alarm, making you grin with gritted teeth but you took a deep breath and hurried along. It wasn’t like you never went out, or had never been there before. SX Seoul had become the preferred club of people working in the industry, and so you found yourself with a vibrating ribcage and sweaty hands every once in a while. However, you did get anxious in crowded loud places like bars and clubs. An elbow sank into your side as you followed after Juhyun and despite the person’s apology and head bow, which you returned, you smiled with a hint of tiredness. The night had just begun.

You got set on the couches, saying hi to everyone you knew who was already there, and smoothly offered to help everyone get drinks. That was an easy way for you to get an alcohol-free drink early on and successfully avoid being offered drinks for a long while.

“Look who’s DJing tonight!”

You had sat near Juhyun after handing her a drink and smiled happily, engaging in light conversation.

“Didn’t you write his breakout music video?”

“Yeah, I did!” 

You smiled politely, a warm fuzzy feeling settling in your stomach — you might have not liked the constant background house beat that had you all screaming to be heard, but you did feel proud of your work. Of every concept you had written, every storyboard you had designed, and every screening you helped with that led you to where you were now — in a creative atmosphere surrounded by like-minded people who just wanted to bring joy and artistry to the world.

As the night continued, you were more and more comfortable, surrounded by people you knew. You didn’t think it could get better, but as soon as Namjoon arrived, you grinned from ear to ear and chuckled at your silliness.

“Hi everyone!” You instantly scooted over and made space for him to sit beside you and join in the conversation, yet as you tried to keep up, he leaned in, “Driving?”

You turned to him and smiled sheepishly, something he returned with a sweetness of his own. You had been friends forever; he knew the answer to his own question.

“Your hair,” he added. 

You blinked then felt for it over your shoulders and chest, trying to see in between psychedelic blinding lights if something had happened to it or something. 

“No! Just— It’s loose!”

You blinked again, pressing your eyeglasses up the bridge of your nose, “Well, yeah.”

He smirked briefly, looking down before facing you again with a gentle puff, “It looks good!”

Your lashes batted once before someone asked for his attention, and just in time. You could feel the heat spreading from your chest to your cheeks and turned to sip at your drink seemingly absentmindedly.

He noticed? You didn’t know why it surprised you so much; Namjoon was an attentive friend. Caring too, he always noticed when something was going wrong or a project was difficult. He always offered to help you out, and you did the same. You had that kind of relationship — friendly and supportive. Of course, that didn’t mean he had to notice your hairstyle for tonight. You had just let go of your usual braids for something more casual — just loose over your shoulders. And now there you were, playing with the long hair locks over your chest like your heart wasn’t fluttering at the simplest interaction.

“Hey! Let’s dance!”

You nodded at Juhyun and got up with a smile that crumbled just a little when Namjoon got up too. He scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at you and Juhyun.

“You don’t mind if I join you, right?”

“Of course not!”

She had answered for you because yet again you were pressing your lips. Namjoon wasn’t half as bad a dancer as he thought he was and you had all danced together before. Had you blushed then as you did now? You wondered as you beelined to the center of the dancefloor; you couldn’t remember. In the end, it didn’t matter. You smiled as you turned to Namjoon in that circle of people just randomly facing each other in turns. It didn’t have to be anything much, you were just having fun. All of you. It was absolutely fine.

He grabbed your hand and wiggled it for you to pivot and move around and you just laughed and did as told because it was fun. And not a big deal if he didn’t do it to the others, they were busy shouting in each other’s ears anyway.

You felt light and didn’t think it could get better than this when all of a sudden everything became pitch black. The music shut down and suddenly all you could hear was your ears ringing annoyingly and people either shouting or wondering a bit louder than usual about what was going on. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that it couldn’t be normal for a club to just abruptly shut down like that, and it was enough for your anxiety to instantly spike and sting your chest. Yet a pair of arms circled you lightening fast, pressing you safely to a firm chest.

Your cheeks were squished against his pectorals and you could hear a heart racing equally to yours under your ear. A question never formed itself, you knew exactly who was hugging you. It was safe now. You hugged him back and closed your eyes, using his body like an anchor to keep your anxiety from releasing you into the rowdy sea.

Namjoon could hear people getting agitated all around you two, making him squeeze you harder against him. People got nervous in situations like those. They could start running for the exit, pushing and stepping over people without a care if the panic was big enough. And as the absence of music and light continued, mere seconds felt like minutes cracking under the pressure as people became agitated.

He knew crowded places made you anxious. That was how you justified the way he was pressing his lips to the top of your head. It made your already racing heart jump with a foreign feeling, which mixed with his musky cologne had you sweating and not out of nervousness.

A louder shout not so far from you startled you into pressing your fingertips into his lower back and he immediately hugged you tighter. His lips brushed the top of your head again but the agitation around you was too loud, making it impossible to discern what he had said. Yet, regardless, you were safe. You could feel people shifting around you, voices becoming louder, and the occasional glimpse from people's phones. A wave of appreciation and gratitude flooded you, flowing over your anxiety and you unglued your cheek from his shirt to tell him.

His lips pressed lightly atop your cheekbone and your breath caught. His nose had tapped against your eyeglasses and you instinctively squinted though you couldn’t see. None of it bothered you though, on the contrary. Your lips parted in surprise, his thumb dragging across your jawline as if to make sure of where you were in the dark.

You forgot about the world around you. You were suspended in the air, in a trance, waiting for what would happen next, and it happened unexpectedly. His forehead touched yours and you closed your eyes, letting him cradle you sweetly. Little did he know that you could feel no anxiousness now, you were a blank page waiting to be written on.

Or maybe he knew. He didn’t force your chin but he did mutter something while his lips brushed your jawline, and you turned your head. Curiosity, it was all it was. Because you hadn’t heard him, but as your skins brushed, your lips caught the subtle hint of something plush and wet for the tiniest of moments.

You became dizzy and gripped his shirt at the end of his back. Was that what you thought it was? Was that—?

All it took was a millimeter for him to give you the hint that you took without hesitation. His lips pressed to the corner of your mouth and you sighed, eyes scrunching with the tension inside your chest. You were no mind and all instinct when you parted your lips further to get more, just a bit more. All you were ready to do was react, so when it felt like he was about to break away, you closed in.

You were incredibly aware of everything that involved Namjoon. The way his long fingers supported your jawline with a feather-like touch, his short hair falling just above his eyes tickling you where it got to your skin around your eyeglasses, the softest touch of his plush lips as even his breath eased, the gentlest breeze caressing your face whenever you tentatively parted and rejoined like waves kissing the shore.

You were aware of everything, and yet when the lights and music came back on, you were helpless. Namjoon straightened up to look around, trying to figure out what was going on, while you were just looking up at him, gripping him still, trying to figure things out on your own. What was that? What—

“Are you okay?” Juhyun asked right behind you and you jumped in place, startled. You let go of Namjoon, and it was he who answered.

“Yeah, we stayed cool. Are you?”

“Yeah, they pushed around a bit though, geez,” she complained, running a hand through her hair. “What do you think happened?”

“Good question, I don’t know.”

You didn’t hear anything anymore, you were just staring up at him as he talked. Good question. You had no idea either. What happened? Did you really just kiss—

“Listen, if you’re bummed out, that’s okay,” Juhyun shouted above the music, pressing your arm gently. She looked concerned and you tried a smile.

You could guess you looked as befuddled as you felt, “Yeah, I kind of— But I’m your driver!” You shouted instead, remembering your responsibility with a firm shake of your head.

“It’s okay, we’ll catch a taxi!” She shouted with a nod. She knew you were usually anxious; something unnerving like that was surely too much for you. “I’m just worried about you going alone!”

“I’ll go with her,” Namjoon nodded, unwavering, and before you got to say something, Juhyun agreed.

“Take care, text me when you’re home,” she asked you, squeezing your hand once.

You were frowning, about to suggest staying a bit more so you could take her home too when a firmer hand replaced hers. Namjoon returned your gaze, said a quick goodbye with a wave to everyone else, and then pulled you behind him as he made your way out.

Your mind slowly got back on track with every step you took. His hand was firmly wrapped around yours, and despite his wide shoulders in front of you, sheltering you from the chaos, your anxiety guided your thoughts back to the surface with a forced gasp.

What were you doing? Maybe this would turn awkward. You and Namjoon had been good friends for years, you had always counted on him. Maybe that was a mistake, maybe he would be uncomfortable around you now. You didn’t want things to change, you didn’t want to lose his joyful grins, relaxing bicycle rides, and long quiet reading sessions back at his place.

You bowed as you took your coat at the reception and put it on before stepping out into the cold. He was no longer holding your hand, which was holding the coat’s collar to your neck instead. You swallowed and looked down, freezing atop the stairs while you ran by the options and he stepped down ahead of you. You don’t have to leave earlier because of me. I can get home safely by myself. I’m sorry if that was awkward, I—

“Where’s your car?”

You sucked in a breath and told him before turning to walk intently as quickly as possible. The cold was rough on your cheeks, despite the big round lenses of your eyeglasses. You gritted your teeth not to quiver as you stepped carefully over the slippery sidewalk.

When you got to your car, you got in quickly and turned it on to give it time to warm up a bit. Namjoon had followed you inside in silence and was so quiet that his presence could have been buried under your anxiety.

You brushed your flushed cheeks and tried pulling your long hair free, realizing it was trapped between your blouse and the coat. You were so used to having braids that you forgot you needed to tend to your hair properly whenever you put your coat on and now you were stiff and stuck and—

“Easy,” he rasped, reaching to help you and you froze. You glanced up at him and stayed still as he alleviated the tension of the fabric over your shoulders to gently pull your hair out before leaning to repeat the same action on the other side. By then your eyes had lowered to his hands. The way he was handling your dark threads of hair as if it was the most precious silk, worthy of care and attention. “There.”

Your eyes jumped up in time to see him leaning back, a perfectly blank expression making your chest pang in nervousness. You were overthinking again.

“Thanks!” You squeaked, clearing your voice immediately as you leaned forward to reach the GPS screen, “Now, to Joonie’s…”

The drive was easier than you thought it would be. He commented on the cold, and then on what happened at the bar. He had never seen something like that at a bar, only at festivals or concerts. He wondered if the whole street had a power outage or if it was just that room. You mused that if it had been more than just the room, you’d surely hear about it in the news. 

And just like that the car became quiet. Seoul always had traffic, even at 2:52 AM, it was nothing new. So while you comfortably focused on taking him home safely, your thoughts wandered elsewhere.

His lips were the softest thing you had ever touched in your life. Just the delicateness with which you had kissed, you didn’t think you had it in you. Weren’t kisses supposed to be messy? Powerful and passionate? Then how had you touched the pillowy clouds above?

Just remembering it had your guts burning in excitement, and you pressed your lips. Were you making any sense? But you had really done that; hiddenly in the dark, yes, but really. You had acted on your instinct for the first time and gotten a glimpse of the sky. 

You wondered why now. Your friendship was old and comfortable, and he had always been a gentleman, protective but never overbearing. You thought he saw you as a colleague initially and then a friend with similar tastes. You pressed your lips right as you stopped the car in front of his apartment building. One glance at him and you knew that was the same old Namjoon you were used to. Maybe you had dreamed it. Maybe it was supposed to stay a dream.

“Would you like to come up?”

Your eyes jumped and widened, the shock as evident in your expression as a blinking billboard sign.

“I finished the new Murakami,” he continued swiftly, “so you can take it if you want. Or any other book.”

Your lips instantly twitched into a smile, “You finally finished it, then.”

He smirked as you turned off the engine and reached to get your bag, “Finally. You know how I am with his books.”

You nodded and got out of the car, the negative temperature clashing with your blushing cheeks. Yet you only smiled, locked the car, and teased him while you both went inside. Even the ride up the elevator was lighter; you two were back to your eased friendship where you got to poke fun at his annoyance with the repetitiveness of Murakami’s plotlines while enjoying every other detailed introspection he had to offer.

So when you passed the threshold of his apartment, you were as always. You both got your shoes off, though you kept your coat because you weren’t going to stay long. He offered you a drink despite you insisting that it was a quick visit, and as he disappeared into the kitchen to see what he could offer, you beelined to his reading corner.

That space always brought a smile to your face and comfort to your heart. That corner of the living room had a bookshelf from floor to ceiling separated by squared compartments that combined books and small plant pots in a myriad of colors. His most cherished one, however, was the bonsai on the small table next to the gray reading chair and ottoman. He'd let you take up the chair whenever you would read or work at his place, with him preferring the couch so he could stretch his legs more comfortably. You preferred the reading chair because the setting was a mood changer for you and you could use the different shelves to place your open books, especially when designing or writing ideas. Each square was organized in a particular way: some by authors, others by category, or type of work.

“I don’t have much,” you could hear him returning to you. “But I can make tea.”

You shook your head while you crouched, taking a look at your favorite section, “It’s okay, I won’t stay long. Where’s the Murakami?”

“Right here,” his voice sounded from above your head, and you glanced up to see him towering over you, reaching for the book lying by the ledge on the appropriate shelf. He eyed you and you smirked, pushing your eyeglasses up your nose bridge before looking back down. The corners of his lips twitched as he gripped the book inside his hands; he knew you were just happily skimming through your favorite shelf, and that wasn’t the issue. You weren’t the issue, you were— He took a deep shaky breath, “Oh, right, I have another one.”

He placed the Murakami book on the small table and left your side in the direction of his bedroom, you noticed. You pressed your lips and got up, grabbing the book he was holding just now. Blood was rushing to your cheeks and you took a short breath to ease yourself. You were there just to grab that book. You were alone at Namjoon’s, and that had happened hundreds of times before. Not that you had ever kissed before, but you could be cool. It was in the dark anyway. Conceptually, if you were thinking of the outline of a music video, that meant it was a secret. You could keep a secret. You could pretend it never happened.

Overhearing his steps pulled you from the depths of your thoughts to check what he had in his hands.

“Here,” he grinned, showing it to you. 

It was a book and you gasped before you grabbed it. The cover had the digital drawing of a little girl on her bed, not lying down, but facing the wall behind her that had become an ocean with sparkling rays floating above. The title read, ‘Windows to Worlds: The Art of Devin Elle Kurtz’. You thought the name rang a bell as you opened and skimmed through it. 

“I thought of you,” he smiled, dimples sinking sweetly into his cheeks at your interested demeanor.

“Woah, her use of color and lighting looks absolutely astounding,” you breathed, alternating between gasping and stopping your breath altogether with each new page.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“But why did you get it?” You finally caught up, looking up at him. “Because I was struggling with lighting?”

Your tone was appreciative and almost savvy as if you knew you had guessed his intent correctly. Yet he shook his head once, “Because of the braids.”

You lowered your eyes to the cover again and indeed, the little girl had two braids, much like you usually sported. You smiled, “Do you think she has eyeglasses too?”

“Maybe,” he acceded, nodding with ease.

You looked back down at the cover — the girl had her palms against the glass as if she was staring into a new magical world. It brought warmth to your chest. Not just because it was beautiful or because it was going to help you, but because Namjoon saw some of it in you.

You pressed the books to your chest, facing him to thank him when your smile fell. His expression had lost some of its casualness and you were immediately flooded with apprehension.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

His tone was so gentle it brought tears to your eyes. It was Namjoon. All of it, all of your doubts and anxiety were about one of the most important people in your life. Who cared how you might have felt; you absolutely could not jeopardize your friendship.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed so sincerely your voice shook.

“Oh.”

“I… It was…”

Your gaze was on the floor around his feet on the white carpet as you tried to find words. You half expected him to move or make things less awkward with his spirited humor, but he waited.

So you said what came to mind, “An accident. Right? It was an accident,” you repeated, ignoring the heat making your eyeglasses fog ever so slightly. “It was dark and…”

You sucked in a breath and pushed your eyeglasses up your nose bridge to soothe yourself, and froze when he nodded slowly.

“I… can’t call it an accident.”

Your eyes widened impossibly, “But— But then— I mean,” you blinked, “that would mean…”

You were just stammering and he smiled, “Yes. I don’t just— I wouldn’t just—” He smirked, scratching the back of his head, “I’d be lying if I said—”

His voice got caught inside his throat. You were looking up at him with eyes so big he feared they’d pop or something. He thought he was ready to talk about it and get it out in the open but— Were you even breathing?

“You know what? Never mind,” he shrugged, with a smile that pressed his plush lips too thin.

Your eyes widened even more, “No—” You almost choked from your impulse and instinctively stepped back, and everything went dark.

You held your breath as if you had been caught in a trap. You could have been back at the club, but there was no crowd, no fear, and no pressure. There was light still shining from his bedroom, reassuringly outlining his silhouette. You were safe, just like then. And it formed the words out of your mouth.

“I can't call it an accident either,” you confessed, and instantly your shoulders relaxed. He didn’t move and you couldn’t see him, but you knew him. You knew of his presence and the way he would never judge or hurt you. “I kissed you back.”

The silence continued between you but you found comfort in it. It was as though you had time to process, to put yourself back in your shoes moments earlier when exactly like that, in the dark, you let something from deep within surface.

“I was… curious,” you voiced quietly.

“Curious?”

“What would you… feel like? How would you…” you were getting lost and closed your eyes. You could almost feel him again, his warmth, his scent, the firmness of his arms around you, helping you levitate safely into the clouds. Your eyes opened at the sound of a footstep and you instantly flushed, “I mean, I— I’m sorry, I—”

“No, don't say sorry.” His outline drew closer until he stopped right in front of you. “You were curious about that?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Why was your heart racing so fast? You were so hot that you knew for a fact your eyeglasses were fogging, despite not being able to see it. You swallowed and fanned your face a little, self-conscious about your hands becoming sweaty and dirtying the books.

Yet as you tried to calm down, you realized silence was stretching. He was waiting, of course, gentlemanly as he was. And you were embarrassed but in the dark, you also wanted to be brave.

“I liked it.”

You left it there, your sincere answer to his question. Your heart was thrumming wildly but you were not half as nervous as you thought you’d be.

“I liked it too.”

Your breath caught as you looked up despite barely seeing a silhouette. What?

“Would you do it again?”

“Now?” Your voice pitched.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Your tone was inquisitive, but it was more out of shock that he said yes. You were heating up so much you didn’t think you were processing thoughts logically, and you weren’t. Your head was blank, “Yes.”

It felt like an eternity, but you knew that wasn’t true. You were just too eager to see what happened next, to feel him again and check if your head would be caught spinning as you floated away to the clouds again.

The books in your hands disappeared quickly, only the sound of them hitting the table told you their fate, and not that you cared. His breath was fanning your face and your head instantly fell back, tapping the wall as your lips parted and you waited for what you wanted most.

When it didn’t instantly come, you had no issues soothing his hesitation by guiding his hands to your jaw. You wanted him to know where you were; exactly there, between the wall and his safe embrace, waiting. 

Finally, his breath was so close it fully stopped when your lips locked together in a feather-like touch, and you moved. You pressed yourself closer, brushing his lips so you’d match completely. Your mouth dove into a sweeter taste, fingers tracing up his neck tentatively to grasp that feeling. And he let you, falling in with you, leaning into you as far as you’d let him.

Your lips parted in an invitation that he took promptly, leaving a wet trace on your bottom lip before he committed. You sighed into his mouth, gripping his shirt to pull him closer. He could reach into you and all around you; you were falling. There was an expanse behind and all around you and it reminded you of free falling; it was probably what skydiving felt like. Only you weren’t nearing the ground but going further from it. That sky was about to catch you; a sweet, soft, endearing sky about to clasp you affectionately and carry you into a dream.

You only stopped because he pulled back, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his lips to your cheek. It was when you noticed that you two fit together like puzzle pieces, with your fingers buried in the nape of his neck, his into your lower back, your breaths mixing as your legs intertwined.

His breath was heavy against your warm cheek, “This can stay here. In the dark. If you want.”

You were too far to recognize the concern in his voice, “Is that what you want?”

“No,” his reply was instant, a subtle shake of his head as his lips dragged over your heated skin. “No, I'm curious about way more than this.”

You opened your eyes, eager to see in him what he meant, but the darkness hid his expression. It protected you, yes, but now, it made you uneasy. There was a moment when it had soothed your fears, maybe even made you brave, but now it was enough.

“Would turning the light on bother you?”

You felt his smile before he pulled away, “Not at all.”

His hands were still supporting your waist as you felt the wall behind you until you flipped the switch. You shut your eyes instantly with a grimace and knew he had done the same.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

You couldn’t see it, but he smirked, “I told you you could.”

His eyes opened first, eager to bypass the sudden sensibility so he could look at you as soon as possible. Your eyes and nose were still scrunched, your eyeglasses had fallen lower on your nose than you liked normally, and the top of your cheeks was beautifully blushed. He didn’t resist cupping your cheek to brush his thumb over the red hue and your eyes opened, looking up at him over your eyeglasses. You were so close to each other but you couldn’t look or move away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, eyes set on yours as if he were seeing stars.

“How can you see anything, we’re so close,” you whined with a huff.

He chuckled, “Yeah?”

You pouted; your eyeglasses were falling down your nose bridge again, and he grinned. He was so unbelievably happy right now, and as you pressed the eyeglasses further up, he wished it would never end.

“Is it…” you were quiet, “better like this?”

“Much better,” he assured confidently, looking into your eyes intently. 

Every time you blinked, wherever you glanced, he kept his cool and tried holding his fear in check — what if you suddenly pushed him away, became uneasy, or regretted this? 

Yet your eyes fixed on his as your hand returned gently to the side of his neck, “You said… you’re curious about more?”

He couldn’t breathe, “Yes.”

“What… does that mean?”

Your voice was a thread and he swore he became dizzy, “You. I—” His lips twitched as he found words, “I want to be with you.”

He settled on that simple fact and shushed his racing heart. It was too soon to confess how long he had been thinking about this, how far he had fallen, and how deeply sure he was that there was no one else he wanted. Nowhere else he wanted to go, no other person who could be home, no other soul he wanted to share his time with. Shit, this was not the time for a love confession.

“Not in the dark,” you mused, thinking back. “But here,” you searched his eyes with a light line between your eyebrows. “Do you want that? To be… a moment of—”

“No,” he interrupted firmly, making sure that every point you touched each other conveyed that. “I want more than a moment, than one night, than a place, than— No,” he breathed. “I want so much more.”

You weren’t sure there was any reaction you could have given because you were floating again. His arms were around you, his mouth speaking words you had long wished to hear, and you waited. It felt like the right thing to do; you just waited for him to become so much more.

“And you?” He asked after waiting to hear your thoughts. “Where would you take this?”

You almost choked with your instant answer, “All the way.”

His eyebrows jumped before his expression scrunched into a rapturous smile, and you filled your chest with air. You needed it, you needed a big deep breath before the dive. When his forehead touched yours, you stayed close, eyes half-hooding, waiting, and ready. You had been ready for a while, all there was left to do now was fly.

You were waiting for his kiss when he grabbed your head, both of you eager and gentle in your grip on the other. His lips were as soft as before but now he was pressing harder, searching for something in the depths of your kiss, and you met him halfway. There was the passion you had thought of before, making your skin pucker as your breathing dragged. It was curious how you were so focused on every little detail of his — his jawline moving under your fingertips, the soft skin at the column of his neck, his wide shoulders where your arms found support to press him closer to you — but had no actual thoughts. Every brush of his lips had you sinking further, every lick of his tongue had you immersed until his hands were pulling you to him and barely letting you touch the ground.

When your feet did touch the ground you lost your balance a little and inadvertently fell into him, which had him feeling behind him to make sure he could sit down. Your lips parted and he looked up at you, hands supportive but not pressuring you. He waited for you to decide if you’d follow him or not, and you didn’t hesitate. You raised a knee to his outer thigh and he instantly supported it, helping you to straddle him effortlessly before he leaned back into the reading chair.

You towered over him a little bit and as he hugged you close, you couldn’t help remembering how many times you had sat in that same chair just to read. Now he was there with you, under you, kissing your neck gently, and you kissed his head with the excitement bubbling under your skin. This was really happening, you could barely contain yourself.

He pressed you to sit closer to him and you guided him to look up just so you could dive into his kiss again. His skin was so soft, his touch so gentle as he let you steer your mouths until your head started spinning. You went deeper with every kiss, and with every sparkle, you became daring. Your fingers laced around his hair, your breaths one and the same as your hips moved on their own accord to fuse you two in any way possible. Your instinct was taking over, regardless of how you ground against him or leaned into him as if it would merge you two together.

You were hot and breathless when you felt a hint of his fingertips brushing the skin at your lower back, and instinctively you pulled back. He looked up at you, instantly wary of mistakenly crossing a line, but in a rustle of clothes, your blouse went up and away, thrown on the floor.

You faced him then, the goosebumps forming on your skin wherever his fingertips brushed your back as you seemed to exude heat. Not even for a moment did you wonder if you were going too far, despite being in a bra only in front of him. Rather you eyed his shirt and pouted, and he got it; in a second it was gone too.

Your lips twitched as you stroked down his neck, over his clavicles, and to his wide shoulders. You knew he’d be perfect, you knew you’d go well beyond liking every inch of him, but reality was far sweeter than your imagination. Before you could lean in and kiss every inch, he beat you to it. His pillowy lips grazed over the expanse of your neck before lowering down your chest and you sank your nails on his shoulders. It was the lightness of his touch, the warmth of his breath contrasting with his tongue as he explored everything until he dared lower. He moved slowly, maybe hesitated, and your hand darting to the back of his head to support him eased him.

He kissed and nuzzled every inch of your chest then settled over your sternum, breathing you in between your breasts just above the center gore. You knew why he stopped, but you were riding the shivers and throbs his every breath drew out of you, and you didn’t want it to stop. You reached behind you and unclasped the bra, letting the straps slide off your arms while you held his gaze. Yes, you wanted to do this. Yes, you wanted him to touch you, to know how he—

His hands over your waist raised to cup your breasts and rub your nipples and you shivered, goosebumps covering you from head to toe. The more he brushed over the hardened tips, the less control you had over a deep whine wanting to escape your lips.

You were biting your lip in this sweet struggle when he glanced up at you before leaning in to take one inside his mouth, and you whined. Your hips bucked over him, drawing closer while your cries grew and expanded with every lick of his tongue. You were grinding hard on him now, unaware of how unruly you were being. Your cries just needed to be heard, your hunger satiated as you searched for friction and wondered why it wasn’t as intense as it should be.

Your chest was wet by the time he parted his mouth from the delicate skin, but you didn’t have time to think about it. His hands gripped your hips to press you closer, and you jumped out of his arms in a mix of outrage and eagerness. 

So that was why you couldn’t feel him properly, you concluded, as you unbuttoned your jeans. Of course, how stupid. At least it was easily fixed.

You only stopped when your clothes hit the floor. His eyes locked with yours and you hesitated. You were totally naked in your eagerness, maybe you were going too fast. But his hands guiding yours to his shoulders before he leaned in to kiss over your tummy made you realize you were being silly. His eyes were glistening, looking up at you before closing to enjoy the taste of your skin, his cheeks were red, and despite his pants, the tent was very visible. 

You wanted to be close so you raised your knee again, and once more he guided you to straddle him. He kissed quickly up your chest before eying your mouth, and you obliged. Kissing him like this was more vulnerable, open, and raw, but you wanted to. His fingertips stroked your sides softly downwards and you sighed into his mouth, gripping him closer. You wanted so much more.

His hands settled atop your hips and it made you whine and wiggle so they would move. It didn’t occur to you to separate your mouths and tell him to touch you; in fact, no thoughts were occurring to you. He seemed to hesitate on where to go while palming your hips, and in the end, it was your hand that guided him to where you wanted him. You froze amidst your kiss, mouth agape as your eyes opened when his fingers skimmed your sex. A shiver ran down your spine, your breath halting as you waited for him. His eyes were set on you, carefully taking in your expression as he dared to brush lower, exploring down your mound, around your hooded clit, and gently over your folds before retracing his steps.

A strangled quiet moan had you closing your eyes to get lost. His fingers were drawing circles over your clit, ever so gently, prodding how to please you without hurting you, and you sank your nails into the back of his neck. You could worship that man now — it was all you knew as you looked at him between half-hooded eyes. Every circle brought a spark, a throb, a buck of your hips until the tension inside you made you jump away from his touch. You kissed him hard then, grabbing his head desperately — you wanted him, not just his hand.

You reached between your bodies to cup his bulge and he choked in your kiss. You pressed harder, too curious to let him breathe or get away, and searched for a way to open his pants, but it was difficult without looking. Fortunately, he understood perfectly what you wanted and got to it.

He raised you off his lap for the single moment it took him to squirm and slide his clothes down his legs before settling you over him again. His skin was burning hot against your inner thighs and as you kissed him, you imagined it was because he wanted you the same way.

You reached again for him and this time there were no barriers. You felt his hard length gently, caressing its soft skin carefully before stroking him against your palm.

He grunted into your cheek; your lips had parted so you both could focus on those new sensations. Something wet was making it easier to stroke him and press the head gently, with every movement earning you something, whether a groan, a sigh, a twitch of his fingers over your hips, or more precum.

You loved seeing and hearing every reaction, but you didn’t want to wait. You were tense and overheating, and that hard cock in your hand belonged somewhere else.

You moved on your knees to straddle him closer, positioning yourself with nothing but the intention to feel him, but you paused. Before the sight of the pink swollen tip at your entrance could steal your logic, you looked at him with an implied question. He nodded with glistening eyes, hands gripping a bit more of your ass to convey just how much he wanted this. And so you leaned to touch your foreheads before you guided him inside you.

You were unbelievably wet but still, it took a moment for him to become coated enough to slide in without any attrition. It felt like a trial and error; every time you tried sitting lower, there was resistance, and so you raised yourself and tried again. And again and again, with his fingers sinking into your skin as he hid his scrunched-up expression. Your eyebrows were knitted too, especially when he hit a particular spot, and soon he bottomed out.

You wiggled a little to make room, your tension gripping him inside you so hard that both of you groaned. You bucked your hips over him and sighed before reaching back, taking support on his legs. The hunger in his glistening eyes as he observed you taking your pleasure from him was like straight out of a dream, except he was really there, stretching you to the edge, bubbling a tension up your spine so good you knew you wouldn’t last a minute.

So you leaned forward again, palming the expanse of his chest as you let the fluttering subside for a bit. A smile bloomed on your lips as he reached to kiss your skin, supporting you closely while he grazed up your neck. Yet as it had blossomed, your smile faded when your eyebrows knitted further and your pleasure sunk in your gut. He had taken a firmer grip of you and used his leverage to thrust his hips up and into you, successfully crumbling whatever excuse of a restraint you had.

You moaned unreservedly and as he pulled away to face you without relenting, you met him with glistening eyes. It wasn’t a betrayal but because of him, you couldn’t hold back. He understood; he told you with a nod as he tried keeping the rhythm steady for you. So you hugged him to you and let the pleasure spike once, twice, until a moan burst out of you with the knot in your lower gut releasing the tension.

However long it lasted, it was long. It left you powerless and radiating heat like a furnace, only he was even hotter than you. He was sweaty under your arms and legs as you embraced him, and it mixed with your wetness and cum, but you didn’t care.

He waited for you to pull away and kiss his humid forehead before he asked, “Can I take you to bed?”

“Yes,” you sighed, still up high in your haze.

He could tell how languid you were so he picked you up carefully, hugging your legs around his waist and supporting your lower back. His heart was racing as he carried you, not because he was afraid of dropping you — no way in hell that would ever happen — but because this was really happening. He was really carrying your naked body across his apartment, your sweaty bodies pressed together after you reached your pleasure in his arms only for him to take you to bed and continue to show you how much he cared for you. He sighted the bed when your limbs squeezed him more firmly and he smiled from ear to ear. It was like carrying a koala bear who didn’t want to let go of him, and he loved that.

He sat on the bed with you on his lap before carefully supporting your back so he could lay you down gently while hovering over you and you finally blinked. 

Your senses were coming back; Namjoon was over you, caging you between his biceps while your legs laced around him. He was inside you, and even if you had forgotten, he reminded you when he moved tentatively. Your eyes were set on his, and that was how you saw the concern crossing them, and you blinked again. You and him were connected like you had only ever dreamed, and it was good. You reached to cup his cheeks and guide his mouth to yours; you wanted him to know that. That you knew what you were doing, with whom, and how, and your heart was completely in it.

If he wasn’t kissing your lips, then he was pecking the tip of your nose, grazing your cheeks, or brushing down the column of your neck as his hips gained speed. You raised yours to feel him as deep as possible, and as you held onto him, you let the emotions flood you. The safety of his arms, the completeness as he filled up all the gaps, the nurture of every tender kiss, the shared warmth, tension, and torture of your bodies rocking together. You were meshed inextricably in an ascent that you had never dared to imagine, and you grabbed him even harder, in case the intensity had you floating away.

Your voice had a life of its own; every time he sank further into you, your soul expanded. Every time he buried himself inside you, your moan released into his ear, and over and over again as he hid in your neck, revering you in all the ways he could.

“You feel so good,” he rasped against your throat, and against all odds you heard it in between moans. Maybe because he was slowing down. He pulled away to face you so closely you saw him blurred despite your eyeglasses, “I don't want it to end.”

Your eyes widened and watered but no words came out in time; he pressed your lips sweetly and you buried your fingers in his hair, feeling your heart swelling with every beat. He restarted his hips, guided by your legs pressing him into you, and you thought that nothing else mattered than him knowing. You also didn’t want it to end, you wanted to stay with him forever, linked, safe, accepted, hidden from anything that wasn’t blissful peace, and happiness.

His hips snapping into yours brought groans, moans, and whines out of the both of you, with wet sloppy sounds echoing in the bedroom along with the slaps of skins colliding. It became fast, forcing you to wrap your limbs around him firmly to never miss any sensation he could give you until you tensed unbelievably.

You surrendered to your climax immediately, letting it wash over you as you throbbed and reveled in scream-inducing spasms. He grunted and swore into your neck, but to your surprise, he didn’t come with you. On the contrary, suddenly you could feel his intent to pull out so you crossed your legs behind him and searched for his ear so you could tell him, “Inside me. Stay inside me.”

He groaned and you rocked with him, keen on extending both your pleasure as much as possible when he twitched inside you. You closed your eyes and his lips immediately caught yours. He kissed you with every peak, groaning into your mouth at every turn, making you shudder.

He stilled and you kept petting his damp hair at the back of his head, slowly waiting for both your hearts to calm down. You couldn’t believe what just happened yet at the same time it was as natural as breathing.

Finally, he moved from the crook of your neck and faced you. A single drop of sweat dripped along his nose to the tip and you caught it with your fingertip. He nuzzled you then, recovering his breath with a tender smile, and you smiled back.

[mistydeyes]

141 members (price,gaz,soap and Simon ) reaction where reader and the group are in the common area together chilling And one of the members is teasing them and instead of entertaining him she scoffs rolling her eyes saying “bitch” while flashing her hand in a shoo motion and being sassy?

You don’t have to write this if you don’t want to ..I’m asking for a lot tbh 😭

thank you for requesting! i could 100% see gaz and soap being the absolute worst especially when you want to relax. they're like your annoying little brothers who just keep bothering you when you want to be left alone.

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: After a 36hr mission, you just wanted to enjoy some tea and scroll on social media. However, Gaz and Soap disrupt your evening and decide to pester you with their abundance of questions.

pairings: platonic!Taskforce 141 x fem!reader (codename: Sweetheart)

warnings: swearing, soap and gaz being ur annoying teammates

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

After a much-needed shower, you made your way to the common room. You rolled your tense muscles as you filled the kettle with water and waited patiently. As you watched the water boil, Ghost joined and gave you a casual head nod. Part of you was glad he wasn't one for conversation, especially following the arduous mission you had just completed. You returned the gesture and back to your now boiling water. "There's enough for you, Lt," you commented before searching the drawers for your favorite tea. However, as you reached into the empty tin, you groaned. "Fuck," you mumbled before Ghost turned to you. You held up the tin disappointedly, "Someone finished the last bag." "Probably Soap," he responded and you threw it the tin in the recycling. You sighed before grabbing some decaf chamomile, a close second to your favorite lavender earl grey blend but far from the same.

As you sipped on the lackluster tea, you sat down on the worn couch. You hoisted your legs up, pulling out your phone to scroll through some mindless posts and videos. It was a necesssary reprieve and you were enjoying your enrichment time. However, it was interrupted by Gaz and Soap loudly entering the room. "Fuck me, mate," you could hear Gaz exclaim, "why'd you talk me into the gym and then a run." To your disgust, the room filled with the smell of sweat and musk, most likely from Soap. They continued to talk and you recognized the familiar sound of water bottles being filled before they made your way to you. "Evening Sweetheart," Soap commented and gently moved your legs off the couch to sit.

"Not in the mood, Soap," you mumbled as you adjusted yourself and he laughed. "141's sweetheart has an attitude," he chided and you rolled your eyes. "Why do they call you 'Sweetheart' anyways?" Gaz asked, joining on an adjacent chair. "Some fucking guys in my squad thought it was hilarious," you replied, with an emphasis on your last word. You hated the callsign, something that followed you throughout basic and into selection. Your all-male squad thought it was a great idea to call you the group's sweetheart and the name stuck. The misogynistic atmosphere was one of the downsides to the job but you tried to ignore it the best you could. "I bet they thought she was a barrack bunny," Soap joked and you put down your phone to shoot daggers at him. Gaz even hit his leg lightly but the petulant sergeant continued.

"So tell me, Bonnie," he asked in a sarcastic tone, "were ya one?" You scoffed at his question and you swore you could feel your eyes roll. You took a moment to internalize your anger before replying. "Don't have to be such a bitch about it, Mactavish," you replied coldly before gesturing your hand in a 'go away' motion. Before he could bite back at your response, Ghost interrupted. "Get a shower, Soap, you smell like shit," he responded and everyone realized he had taken a position at one of the tables in the room. "Steamin Jesus, Lt." Soap responded in shock, "you really are a ghost." "He's right, you smell like a sewer," you added with a smirk and you could tell he was feeling more self-conscious. "I swear I'll find out," Soap responded before quickly walking off to the showers.

You returned back to your scrolling as the room fell silent again. You could feel Gaz looking at you and you took a moment to put your phone back down. "What Gaz?" you interrogated as you met his gaze. "What's the real story behind your callsign?" he asked, almost nervously. You laughed a bit before you responded to his question. "Just some assholes from the Army," you said plainly, "at least they were more creative than you. What kind of a name is Gaz anyways?"