#and the hint is celebrity scandal

[pulledpurplecurtains]

bechloe fic is DONE like omg i’ve written something AND finished it in the year of our lord 2023???

[saerotonins]

biggest scandals they have faced

ft. actor!nanami kento, fushiguro toji x wife!reader (separated) 

content warnings: fluff, light angst, jjk actor au, celebrity issues, cheating allegations, divorce allegations, none of them are true, misogyny, mentions of infertility, just cruel stuff based on the issues i see online, slightly suggestive (making out), toji and wife call each other "ma" and "pa", mentions/hinting of sex, internet trolls, horrible people online, pls don't read if these issues are triggering to you, shitty article names lol

wc: 2052

note: this got too long, will do other parts for the other actors instead <33 happy holidays, everyone!

NANAMI KENTO:

Jujutsu Kaisen Star Nanami Kento Facing Trouble in Paradise: Leads to Divorce

to say he was irritated when he saw the headlines from the tabloids was an understatement, he is beyond livid. but the comments just made everything worse.

user_1: wow aren't they married for years already? maybe his wife can't conceive any babies? LOL

user_2: must be, or maybe nanami's just realized his wife is just using him for his actor money 

user_3: the wife doesn't know to make a sandwich i fear 

user_4: maybe he got tired of his wife's ugly face, no wonder he hides it from the internet hahaha

kento doesn't give a fuck if people were dragging his name left and right but god forbid it involves you, his loving wife who has been nothing but utterly supportive of his career. for someone who stuck by his side for years, it angers him that people immediately assume that you were the problem. he knows the news isn't true, he literally just cuddled with you last night, so to say that you were getting a divorce almost makes him laugh if it weren't how stupid this situation is. 

when his manager informed him about the situation, he immediately cancelled every schedule that he has for today, he will call the lawyers to settle this later but for now, his main focus is you. 

you are someone who is used to the privacy of your own space which is why you opted to keep your face off his socials and remain anonymous to the eyes of his fans. kento hates it that your peace is getting disturbed due to his stardom, so he is willing to drop everything just to go home to you and comfort you. no one knows who you really are but the way it made people talk like they do, makes him angry. no way his wife is going to be disrespected like this.

the moment kento opens the door the your shared home, he's panting, sweat evident in his forehead and worry present in his eyes as he looks at you across the living room, sitting on the couch with your phone in your hands. 

"shit," he thought, he knows you already saw the news, and worse the comments. he can tell just by your body language. your eyes sunken in sadness and your lips form a frown. he doesn't see it but he knows your heart is breaking too.

"honey," kento breathes out as he walks towards you. he knows you heard him, but you stay in your position, disbelief flooding your senses. suddenly, you came back to reality when you feel kento's warm embrace, his large and quick hands getting rid of your phone before placing it on your head and immediately feeling his chest against your head.

his breathing his ragged, unstable deep breaths as he tells you, "it's gonna be okay," and a thousand apologies to go with it. you nod instead, finding yourself difficult to talk. you opt to rub onto his arm, a silent reply to his comforting and kento seems to understand your gesture. he then kisses the crown of your head as he pulls you tighter in his embrace.

"am i holding you back, kento?" you asked, your voice quite muffled as you speak through his button down blouse.

"oh god, darling you will never hold me back, if anything, you keep me moving. don't listen to them, alright? i'm happy and contented to where we are right now, don't worry about it." he lets go of the embrace and cups your face with both of his hands. he looks at you with loving eyes as he brushes your lower lip with his thumb. you close your eyes as he leaned closer, then you finally felt his lips against yours. he gives a peck, another, and then a third one before he crashes his lips onto you for the last time as he takes his time to explore your mouth.

kento knows a lot of ways to apologize, and this is one of them. he is gentle, but his love is loud as he allows his tongue clash against yours, the wet squelch filling up the room as he allows himself to be drunk with your lips.

when kento lets go, his breathing is heavy but satisfied. "i'll take care of everything from then on, okay?" he says as he caresses your face and a smile creeps to his face when you lean towards his touch with a nod. "will you be releasing a statement?" you ask.

"yeah, i'll contact our lawyer about it and then we'll see what we can do." his answer earned a curt nod from you. kento noticed pursed your lips, obviously thinking about something.

"are you still bothered by the comments?"

"no, i mean, i'm a bit upset about how people were talking about me online but i'm just curious as to where all this came from." 

"hmm, yeah, we'll take care of that too, for now, just rest your pretty mind and always remember that i will never leave you. that okay?" his gentle voice makes your heart feel full, and that's you know that your husband will always be at your beck and call. "yeah." you answered as you give his lips a quick peck, "i love you," you added.

"i love you too."

not a even a day later, the JJK LABEL had released a statement and an article regarding the fake news that had surfaced.

Nanami Kento Slams Fake Divorce Article: "Don't project your problems in your love life through me and my wife."

"the article itself and the comments are horrible and people are stupid enough to believe something that came from a tabloid known to release fake news. maybe this just tells about how gullible and stupid people are for believing groundless rumors and not my relationship." the artist stated.

"to everyone involved in the release of this article, we will see you on court and i hope you have any evidence about your claim. to the people who threw disgusting comments about my wife, please worry how alone you are instead of snooping around our relationship." he adds.

that day, kento's fanbase rejoice as the tabloids finally got their karma when it was reported that their company was finally shut down.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

it was a normal day in the fushiguro household until megumi bursts in through the door with a loud and resounding—

"dad, what the fuck?" 

"megumi, language, please!" you warned him.

your word goes through megumi's ears and went to his dad who is currently lounging in the living room reading his script. he paid his son's words no mind and gave him a raised eyebrow, urging him to continue.

"your name is all over tabloids because of a forum post. look," megumi says as he faces his phone screen to toji's face. to say that he's horrified to what he just saw is an understatement. so, with a worry mind, you go behind toji's lounging chair and read what's on the screen.

Acting Veteran 'T' Caught in An Affair! 

At the night of Tuesday, Actor 'T' is caught leaving a hotel with a seemingly younger woman clinging on his arms. The two are being lovey-dovey in their Shibuya rendezvous. Actor 'T' is currently married with a child which makes everything even more scandalous. What would actor 'T'’s wife and child think about this? Seems like the man really took a liking towards sneaking away with younger women.

Actor 'T'’s identity will be released by [MM/DD/YY] so stay tuned! For now, let us know your thoughts below.

user_1: actor veteran and the code is T? must be toji then?

user_2: this is definitely toji lmfao he looks like someone who would fool a younger woman

user_3: his wife must be so rusty now so he's running to the younglings LOL

user_4: respect for having the balls to cheat on his wife after this long, ik his ass is itching

user_5: @user_4 LMFAO should've done it sooner! bet he doesn't want to pay child support so he's staying 😂

user_6: NOOOO the GOAT got caught damn we were rooting for u 👑

"what the fuck?" both you and toji's voice were erupting in the whole room. out of shock? anger? rage? megumi is not sure but there is one thing he's sure of, both of you are being scary right now and the red in both of you and husband's eyes are almost showing due to the high range of emotions you were both feeling right now.

despite knowing that toji is utterly in love with you and he was actually with you that day, it scares him that his father is facing this kind of scandal. people are horrible out there trying to ruin his father's career that he worked hard on and this is the proof.

toji might be used to having false rumors spread about him all over the years he is in the acting industry, but what he can't take is people talking shit about his wife and thinking less about her. the comments that he just read just woke up the rage inside of him.

"mom?" megumi had called you since it's been minutes when you had gone quiet. the sight before him broke his heart. 

your eyes are trying not to let your tears fall, but the comments are too hurtful to ignore, too cruel to set aside. even though you know that it's covered with a codename (barely), you exactly know it's your husband that they are talking about. you're hurt about the comments but you're most scared of your husband's career coming to a screeching halt.

you suddenly feel your husband hug you so tight and you let it all out. his shirt might get damped but toji doesn't care, comforting his wife comes first. he then tells megumi, "call our lawyer, tell him what we just saw, they'll know what to do," megumi frantically nods and gets out of the house to do what toji had said.

"come on, ma, let's go and get some rest." toji had urged you to go with him.

"pa, this is so ridiculous, i know you know how to deal with these but this is just too much, they're targeting our family now." the sadness in your voice and the tears that flow through face break toji's heart. you don't deserve this. these assholes needed to be taught a lesson, and he knows he won't be nice about it. "i'll take care of this, 'kay? i love you and megs so much, angel."

toji's voice somehow calmed your senses and you let yourself cry in his arms until you're left with no tears. "i'm sorry, i'm too old to cry like this." you said as you try to wipe the remnants of your tears from your face.

"no one's too old to cry, darling," toji coos, glad that you're finally able to calm down, and caresses the back of your head. then, a sly smirk forms on his lips, "you know what else we're not too old for?" 

genuinely curious, you look up to him, "what?" you asked. 

toji leaned down and whispered, "another child, think we can give megumi a sibling?" and gave you a mischievous look.

"toji!" you exclaimed as you smack his chest, flustered of his words. 

"gross, get a room, and is now really the time for this?" you suddenly let go of yourself from toji's grasp the moment you heard megumi back in the living room. toji chuckled, "i got it all covered, both of you rest up and i will deal with all of this." toji walked towards where megumi is standing and gives his head a gentle pat, "no one's gonna ruin us, alright?" 

the conviction in toji's voice made it clear to both of you and megumi that he already has a plan in mind, and you trust him enough to believe him. he has never let the both of you down, after all.

the next day, news break out the the person who posted the rumor on the online forum is caught with other criminal charges aside from the defamation he just attempted to do. the horrible comments also seem to magically disappear.

Fushiguro Toji Busts Down Anonymous User, Other Criminal Charges Involved

"I hope this serves as a lesson to everyone else. I'm not backing down until everyone gets what they deserve for ruining the names of the people I care about. I will not let go until every single horrible person who rises their tongue against my family is punished." Toji stated.

"Be careful what you read and comment online, please don't forget that the people you talk about are not just subjects, but real human beings." The veteran actor added.

the fake news spreader should have really known not to deal with a veteran who is powerful enough to protect the people he cherishes.

edit: i just noticed that i wasn't able to add the ending to toji's part 😭 my apologies, i fixed it now!

[driverlando]

✧.* #NUDEGATE

synopsis- Oscar accidentally posts a nude on his instagram story

before you continue: similar to the sex tape leak smau for lando! if you enjoyed please reblog and give me a follow <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

—

✧.* Oscar’s reaction

You and Oscar are lounging on the couch, enjoying a rare quiet afternoon together. The TV is on, but neither of you is really watching it. You’re curled up against him, scrolling through your phone, while he’s half-asleep, his arm wrapped around you.

Suddenly, Oscar’s phone rings, startling both of you. He fumbles to grab it from the coffee table, squinting at the screen. “It’s Zak,” he says, his voice tinged with confusion. He answers the call, putting it on speaker.

“Oscar, mate, you need to check your Instagram story right now,” Zak’s urgent voice fills the room.

Oscar sits up, wide awake now. “What? Why?”

“Just do it,” Zak insists. “You’ve posted something you shouldn’t have.”

Your heart drops as you both realise what this might mean. Oscar quickly opens his Instagram, his fingers shaking slightly. He taps on his story and his face goes pale. “Oh my God,” he mutters.

You peek over his shoulder and see it—a very revealing photo that’s definitely not meant for public eyes. “Oh no,” you breathe, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Delete it, Oscar. Now,” Zak commands.

Oscar doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly deletes the story, his hands moving in a blur. “It’s gone,” he says, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Zak. I didn’t realize…”

Zak’s tone is exasperated but with a hint of amusement. “Oscar, you might want to double-check before you post anything in the future. Your fans probably didn’t expect to see that.”

Oscar groans, dropping his phone onto the sofa. “I can’t believe I did that.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Well, you did say you wanted to give your fans a closer look at your life.”

He shoots you a horrified look before bursting into laughter. “Not that close!”

Zak’s voice comes through the speaker, chuckling. “Look, just be more careful next time. And maybe invest in some clothes.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, still laughing. “Got it, Zak. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime. And Oscar, maybe don’t make this a regular thing, yeah? We’re trying to win races, not start an OnlyFans,” Zak says before ending the call.

Oscar drops his head into his hands, still laughing. “I can’t believe this.”

You wrap your arms around him, grinning. “At least we know your followers are getting a lot of exposure to their favourite driver.”

He groans, his face flushing again. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

You kiss his cheek. “Probably not. But hey, now you’ve got a funny story to tell.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Only if you promise to never let me use Instagram unsupervised again.”

You laugh. “Deal. And maybe we should stick to cute couple selfies from now on.”

Oscar nods, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Or maybe… I should make sure all my posts have wardrobe approval from you first.”

You grin. “I can work with that.”

—

—

—

—

SCANDAL ON THE GRID: Oscar Piastri’s Instagram Mishap

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In a hilarious yet shocking turn of events, McLaren’s rising star Oscar Piastri has become the latest cautionary tale for digital privacy and social media blunders. Early yesterday morning, fans got more than they bargained for when Piastri accidentally posted a revealing photo to his Instagram story, sending the F1 community into a frenzy. The incident has drawn comparisons to similar celebrity slip-ups, such as Chris Evans’ infamous social media mishap.

The mishap was quickly addressed in a series of tweets by Piastri himself. The first tweet, brimming with sheepish humour, read: “So… that wasn’t supposed to happen. Apologies to everyone. Lesson learned: double-check before posting. #SorryMum”

Just minutes later, he followed up with a more serious note on the importance of digital security: “On a serious note, let’s talk about digital privacy. Make sure you’re securing your accounts and double-checking before you post. Lesson learned. #StaySafeOnline”

As if the situation wasn’t already comedic gold, Piastri’s McLaren teammate and fellow prankster, Lando Norris, couldn’t resist adding his comment. “Oh Oscar mate, you need lessons on how to use Instagram properly. Always give your phone to a responsible adult if you’re not sure,” Norris retweeted Piastri to ensure the ribbing hit home.

To top it all off, Piastri’s model girlfriend, Y/N, chimed in with her own playful jab: “I literally leave him alone for a minute and this is what happens…”

Insiders close to the couple revealed that Zak Brown, McLaren’s CEO, was the first to alert Piastri to the accidental post, calling him in a tone that was reportedly both urgent and amused. “Oscar, mate, you need to check your Instagram story right now,” Brown had said, trying to suppress laughter while maintaining his authoritative stance.

Despite the embarrassing slip-up, fans were quick to rally around Piastri, appreciating his candid and humorous approach to the situation. “At least we know he’s human!” one fan tweeted, while another quipped, “This is why Oscar Piastri is my favourite—he’s real, he’s relatable, and he’s hilariously unfiltered.”

The incident has sparked a flurry of memes and jokes across social media, solidifying Piastri’s place not just as a talented driver, but as a beloved personality in the F1 world.

While the dust settles on this unexpected reveal, Piastri’s misadventure serves as a humorous reminder of the perils of social media. As the young driver himself advised, securing your accounts and double-checking before posting is a lesson everyone can take to heart.

As for Piastri, it seems he’ll be keeping a much closer eye on his phone from now on, with a little help—and a lot of teasing—from his friends and family.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

—

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, logansargeant and 207,256 others

oscarpiastri me when I got a call from Zak to check my Instagram story 😅 Thanks for the support, everyone. And to McLaren for not firing me.

view all 9,268 comments

user1 I wish I was a fly on the wall during that conversation with Zak 🤣

oscarpiastri I promise I’m a responsible person btw!!

↳ yourusername sure honey, sure

user2 you’re such a grandpa when it comes to technology

yourusername Still can’t believe you managed to do this 😭

↳ user3 was he trying to send you the nude or something 😂

↳ user4 they’re kinky af, he was definitely sending her a pic

user5 where can I see this nude? 👀

↳ user6 search up #nudegate on twitter, it’s trending

↳ user5 HOLY SHIT! good to know he keeps a stubble down there 🥵

↳ user6 I don’t even wanna know how big he is erect, like that man is hungggg

logansargeant only you 😂

—

—

✧.* Y/n loves adding fuel to the fire

—

mclaren

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 187,268 others

mclaren nothing to see here, just two guys who love keeping our pr team on their toes #sendhelp

view all 2,618 comments

landonorris why he say fuck me for?

↳ user7 please you know exactly why 😂

oscarpiastri whoops, hey that’s why we have a pr team right?

user8 just a couple of besties 🫶

oscarpiastri is it roast Oscar day or something?

↳ yourusername after the stunt you pulled…yes.

user9 the best duo!! 😂

user10 mclaren pr have the patience of a saint 😭

—

✧.* Lando finally gets his payback

[astrogre]

Astro Observations 1

My first Astro observations post, I would like to confirm that my observations are the niche ways in which a placement may manifest, it is the way I’ve noticed it in others, the people around me, celebrities, myself and in my studies. It is not the doctrine wide broad way the placement occurs for everyone.

Venus in 10th house natives tend to be well known for the person they may date. They tend to date people that really match them physically and can have their relationships idolized by others. The sign it’s under can show what their partners may be known for. This is also a common placement for celebrities because the interest from others in your love life increases your public image, making you more desirable and of interest to everyone including agencies/record labels, they will see your influential potential and love that. Even if you guys don’t date anyone people may have someone in mind who they think matches you or others can just look at you and wonder what your “type” is. Your love life in itself is of interest to others.

Eg. Chris Brown, Johnny Depp, Jimin, Victoria Beckham, Kristen Stewart, Billie Eilish, Kanye West.

Another way Venus 10th housers may manifest is they may have crushes on renowned key figures from history like JFK, Alexander Hamilton, Stalin, Cleopatra, Marilyn Monroe, royal monarchy literally any people of historical significance. (Saturn influence is long lasting and for Venus to be here it can make natives romanticise powerful historical figures)

Pluto 3rd housers can dominate the conversations they have with others so much that they don’t let the other person have their own opinion.

Capricorn Chiron in 6th house makes people feel worthless and terrible if they haven’t been productive for a day, these people don’t like to be lazy, it makes them feel inferior. They put a lot of pressure on themselves to produce and their day routine may be their greatest pride.

10H stellium always have career plans, they like to advance their CV and career prowess for fun, always taking up opportunities. Especially if sun is here.

12H stellium always posting the weirdest stuff that others don’t understand but it has a unique vibe to it that just feels “right” at the same time, they may have this aesthetic that feels eery but overtime enjoyable and something to look forward to because of its uniqueness. I have a 12H stellium friend and they always post pictures of weird random abandoned places with crocs and dirty teddy bears laying in the middle of them. At first I thought it strange but overtime, I look forward to what monstrosity of visuals they will bring next. 12H really does bring out things never seen before. 🤔

Venus in 1H makes you look very feminine, you may style yourself in a feminine manner or have a naturally feminine appearance. Eg. Leo Venus in 1H May have very beautiful feminine looking long hair.

1H Libra Mars has a similar effect as Venus in the 1H however these natives have a hint touch of masculinity, are rather playboy, Casanova and can have a big ego. Think of Flynn rider from tangled. Very pretty boy.

People with 12H Capricorn placements may procrastinate or find difficulty in bringing the planets in there into reality and get frustrated at themselves for it. It’s similar to the planet being in retrograde E.g a 12H Capricorn moon not being able to fully show or act on the way they feel in their head. Look at the house of where Saturn is in your chart to find the topics and how you can bring the energy of your Capricorn 12H planets out.

0 degrees for any planet or asteroid means that you embody that planet/asteroid and its sign in its most pure authentic form. It can make you the epithet of that placement.

Lilith Square Asc makes someone not able to escape looking like a bad boy/girl it always comes out in their appearance without them intending to. They don’t want to present themselves in a way that looks scandalous but at the same time a part of them is and they can’t escape that. It’s like an energy. They’re dynamic and free, they like what they like and that shows in their face and appearance. They also can’t change things about themselves to please others even if they wanted to.

Jupiter 1H usually have big features, like a glossy kind of look to them. It may be big eyes, flushed face, supple puffy skin, wide nose or just have an abundant looking face. I’ve also noticed they tend to have a squared shape face with rounded edges. E.g Hailey Beiber, Abraham Lincoln, Gerard Butler, Aishwarya Rai, Niall Horan, Ashton kutcher, Whitney Houston, Cristiano Ronaldo

Also this is completely random and not astrologically backed up but whenever I think of Jupiter 1H I just think of clear gleaming skin. Perhaps it is backed up astrologically as Jupiter blesses and brings luck to the house it’s in and it being in the 1st rules a natives appearance. Anyways when I think of Jupiter 1st house I always imagine that they don’t need very much makeup they have this glow to them already that cannot be copied.

Virgo ASC style and dress themselves in a way that’s unique for them, for an example they may always have a signature accessory that they wear that only they understand why it’s so important to be worn. E.g. can be a headband, jewellery or hat. They may also be consistent in the way they look, they don’t tend to have “bad days”. In my personal opinion I find Virgo rising men the most attractive. But beauty is in the perspective of the beholder.

Speaking of which, my unpopular opinion is that I don’t believe that a sign or planet can make you more beautiful than another sign E.g like how people say Venus, libra and Taurus is an indicator of being beautiful -I just think that each sign personifies beauty in a different way. In my eyes I see Libra and Venus beauty to be feminine and attractive, but I find Pluto Scorpio beauty to be alluring and intense, magnetic, like Phantom of the opera, like an enchanting vampire that resides in the shadows. I also find Uranus Aquarius beauty to be far more entrancing, striking and even as if the native looks like their from a game fantasy novel or a manga protagonist. I don’t think we can just say “having Venus prominent makes someone more beautiful than others”, perhaps conventionally but not universally. Planets and signs of the first house can show us HOW the beauty is made manifest. It being of Venus, libra influence just kind of makes it feminine or conventionally attractive like butterflies or roses rather than intense or of large magnitude (unless making aspects to magnifying planets like Jupiter)

Aquarius moons can feel a lot of emotions but they’re very good at holding it in. People say that they don’t feel much because the nature of Aquarius being detached however I’ve also seen it occur in a way where the Aquarius moon native may pretend they’re not hurt or sad so that they can keep it pushing and force this happy facade so it hurts less but in reality their just burying the pain deeper. They are kind of avoidant but it makes you feel sorry for them because even if you try to comfort them they don’t even acknowledge the pain themselves so it doesn’t make much of a difference.

Jupiter in 6th house always have action packed days, they spend their days with joy and have a really good time. They usually have their dream day to day life. They’re your one friend that is always doing something interesting, fully booked and loves it.

Jupiter 8H are never strapped for cash, these natives can just be very lucky in getting money from others. Especially if in harmonious aspects with sun, Pluto and Venus. If aspects are negative native still doesn’t worry much but may find that people are a little more hesitant to giving or Jupiter 8H native doesn’t want to ask for it.

Mars 1H makes someone want to work harder on their body by going to the gym, may want to look more manly, aggressive.

Jupiter conjunct moon in 7th house makes you a very passionate lover, anyone who is in a relationship with you can always feel excited and you excel in relationships.

Mercury conjunct ascendant can make someone always think about their goals, plan their next move. They use their minds to get what they want from life and can talk about the principles they apply to themselves which can make them look rather intelligent to others. Can also make someone appear very youthful, not only in appearance but their mannerisms too. Like a dimply smile, blushing and shaking their head when complimented. An animated response.

Moon opposite asc, tends to make a person unable to think clearly when emotions are involved, especially when it’s related to topics in the house your moon is in, like you can look a little mentally unstable here 💀 because your emotions that you show can drastically change from 0-100. moon opp asc also can have a person go against what they want, their principles and approach to life, the opposition forces them to deny their feelings existence in order to act in the way they believe is best. You can even care more about your image than the themes of the moons house.

E.g 7H moon opposite ascendant can make someone care about their image in the relationship, display an image of nonchalance when in reality they’re very protective of their partner. The feelings from their partner and their relationship can be irresistible and make them at times abandon their vices and plans for themselves

[freedomfireflies]

Show Me*

Summary: The second part to Teach Me*

Class is in session, and this time, Harry needs a little help exploring his favorite kinks. Like...how to get somebody off underneath a table.

And you're more than happy to lend a helping...hand.

Word Count: 6k

“So…how did she like it?”

Harry laughs as he slips out of his car. “Wow, I think that’s a new record. Waited a whole thirty seconds to ask me.”

“Bite me,” you retort as he makes his way toward where you’re waiting on the sidewalk. “Well?”

He shrugs, hands shoving into his pockets. “Dunno. We never got to it.”

“So, just straight to the fucking, then, huh?” you question. “No foreplay at all? I mean, hey…if that’s what she’s into…great. But, personally, I think the foreplay is the best—”

“All right,” he interjects with a wicked yet amused grin. “That’s not what I meant. She got called into work before we could.”

“Oh.” You offer him a pitiful frown. “Sorry, bud.”

“Bite me,” he mimics as he brushes past you. “S’fine. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“That’s the spirit,” you encourage as you fall in-line beside him. “Gives you more time to find your nerve.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, glancing down at the concrete. “Or more time to practice…other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yeah,” he says again, one brow raising as he looks back over. “You know, like…how to eat ass.”

Finally catching onto his joke, you groan and reach out to shove him away from you, watching as he stumbles with a laugh. “Fucking hilarious.”

“Listen, I was actually looking forward to it,” he continues, hand over his heart as if disappointed. “I bet you really know how to eat some ass.”

“Ha…ha.”

“What? You do, don’t you? Cause of…Eric?”

The familiar but dreaded name sends a shiver down your spine as you recoil away and scrunch your nose in horror. “Ew.”

He looks proud. “Well? Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” you huff before sighing. “…no. But he wasn’t that great of a teacher, anyhow.”

“No fucking kidding,” Harry snorts with a smile. “You’re much better.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he beams, reaching out for the door of the restaurant to swing it open. “After you.”

“As it should be,” you tease, winking to hint at the double entendre, and his eyes roll.

You find your large group of friends already gathered around a table near the back of the room, and quickly make your way over.

For the next few minutes, you all exchange pleasantries, catch-up, and tease Harry about his failed attempt at mating.

He’s a good sport about it, flipping everyone off with a smile before changing the subject. 

Because, despite the jokes, all of you know that Harry could have anybody he wanted. Maybe his experience in the bedroom is lacking but that’s only because it was a personal choice that he made. And everybody knows it. As far as charm and seduction go? Harry Styles is a king.

Perhaps even a God.

…no, that’s giving him too much credit.

You shake your head, clearing the thought away as you listen to your friends gossip about the newest celebrity drama and reality TV scandals.

And you try to care. Really, you do.

But your mind keeps…drifting.

To Eric.

God, you could just kill Harry for re-planting that seed in your subconscious and reminding you of the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

Because there was a time when Eric was everything to you. When you were closer to him than you were to Harry. When you trusted him—completely—with your mind, soul, and body.

And of course, he just had to shit all over the self-growth and progress you’d made.

You feel your phone vibrate from its place on your thigh, and you glance down to see Harry’s name flashing across the screen.

Sneaking a curious sideways peek his way, you swipe up to read his text. 

So…Pete Davidson is Kim Kardashian’s stepfather now? Am I hearing that right?

Confused, your brows pull together as you look over at him.

His explanation is to nod at your friends across the table with a smirk, and you laugh.

I don’t know, you type. I wasn’t listening.

Oh? Why not? This is fascinating stuff.

Idk. Just wasn’t.

Harry’s expression seems to fall as he studies you before his fingers are flying across the screen. You were thinking about Eric, weren’t you?

…nooooooo.

His eyes narrow.

So what if I was?

Bee…you can do better than that. Even in your head.

See, you say that, and yet…here I am.

Because you’re not doing better. You can…you just aren’t.

Yeah? And how exactly would I do better?

You catch the way his lips pull back into a Cheshire-like grin as he begins to type.

Well, you kind of already did do better. With me. The other day.

Swallowing a scoff, you type, That was only because I felt bad for you.

Think you felt a lot of things that day, Bee. But bad wasn’t one of them.

You toss him a playful glare. Are you ever gonna let that go?

Not likely. After all, you did promise me another lesson.

You don’t need another lesson, you just need to stop being so goddamn annoying.

Come on, you can’t deprive me now. Not when I know I have so much to learn.

Google it.

Ouch.

You’ll live.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

This time, you do groan, and reach over to swat his arm. “Stop,” you hiss. “You really are fucking annoying.”

“Learned from the best,” he retorts, leaning closer to you in an attempt to conceal the conversation. “Learned a lot of things from you, actually.”

“Harry,” you huff again, but you’re smirking. “My god, you don’t really wanna learn how to eat ass do you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what I wanna learn. That’s why I need a teacher. To teach me what I want.”

You know he’s fucking with you. You can see it all over his face and yet, for some reason…your interest is piqued. “Thought that was a one-time deal.”

“It was,” he agrees. “But…the door to knowledge is never closed.”

He follows this up with a devious chuckle to let you know he’s teasing, and you nudge him again. “See? Annoying.”

For a moment, you both put the topic to bed and return to the conversation happening across the table.

But again, your mind wanders.

Wanders all the way back to your bedroom and the image of Harry’s curls wound around your knuckles.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about that afternoon quite a few times since it happened. After all, you’re only human. And Harry had done a rather excellent job. Sure, you’ve had a tad better. But for his first time…it wasn’t half bad.

And you’d waited to feel weird about it after the fact…but you never did. Which was strange. The two of you returned to your normal routine as if it had never happened.

And you were certainly glad for that. So why is it that now, as the opportunity for a relapse is placed so obviously in your lap, are you not repulsed by it?

Why is it that you haven’t immediately shut the idea down? Laughed it off? Why is it that you’re…considering it?

Again?

You almost want to shudder at the very thought, but as you look over to the chair beside you and take in Harry’s relaxed smile as he listens to your friends talk…something seems to shift.

You will admit, since your little…experiment…you’ve begun to equate those kinds of memories and feelings with Harry instead of Eric.

And that’s another thing you wouldn’t dare complain about. You like the idea of being able to associate pleasure with someone that makes you feel safe. Secure instead of unhinged.

And perhaps this is a huge mistake…but suddenly, you can’t seem to see the harm?

He gets to learn how to make a woman feel good and you get to erase Eric from your past permanently.

What could possibly be so wrong with that?

Subtly, you clear your throat as you turn your head to him, calling his attention away as he raises a brow. 

“Okay, so…if I were to agree to another lesson…” you begin hesitantly as his eyes grow wide. “I’d need a little…information.”

He angles his body toward you as well, murmuring, “Yeah? Like what?”

You think for a moment. “I don’t know…what kinds of kinks do you have?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats smugly, nodding his chin at you. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me find out?”

You quickly glance across the table to make sure nobody is listening as you lean in and whisper, “Well…I don’t even know where to start with you. You’re a virgin, it’s hard.”

“I’m not a virgin,” he corrects with a scoff. “I just…haven’t done it a lot since the first time.”

“Mhm,” you snort. “Doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t know what you like, there’s no way I’ll know.”

He studies you for a second, seeming to think. “Well…why don’t you tell me what you like? Maybe I’ll get some ideas.”

You hesitate. What do you like? “Uh…okay. I mean, I like pretty much everything, I guess.”

“Yeah? Like what? Name something.”

Well…shit. “Um…I don’t know. Have you ever heard of…exhibitionism?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth in thought, brows lifting up with intrigue. “I’m 27, I’m not dead.”

“Hilarious.”

“Why? S’that something you’re into?”

You swallow but force a relaxed and nonchalant demeanor. “Kind of, yeah. Fun to play with what’s mine when anybody could see.”

He almost seems impressed, leaning back as he looks at you. Really looks at you. “You don’t fucking say.”

“Okay, don’t make it a whole thing,” you whisper urgently, already swatting at him in warning. “It was just an idea. We can always think of something—”

“Show me.”

You pause. “Show you…what?”

He nods his chin at you. “Show me how you’d play with what’s yours when anybody could see.”

Your expression falls. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He nods. “I’m a vessel. Show me. Teach me.”

And maybe it’s the glass of wine offering you an extra ounce of courage, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already done this once before, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Harry…

But whatever it is, you reach out, and smooth your palm along his upper thigh, just to watch his breath catch. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, careful to keep beneath the suspicion of the group across the table. “Because I need to know if you can…handle it.”

You feel him tense, his fingers flexing across the tablecloth as he regards you. “I’ll handle anything you want me to.”

Your hand drifts a little higher. “And you’ll sit here? And be a good student?”

He shoots you a coy smile. “The best.”

A little higher. “And you know your safe word?”

“‘Stop,’” he answers, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Don’t think I’ll need it, though.”

“You might.”

“Won’t.”

“Maybe.”

“No fucking way.”

You slow to a stop, centimeters away from the rather obvious dip in his pants. “Don’t say that. Just use it. If you need to.”

His expression softens. “I know, Bee. I will. Promise.”

“Good.” So, with that and a deep breath, you take the plunge, ghosting your touch over his covered cock. 

And it’s different this time because it’s you touching him. It’s his body in your hands and this far exceeds your usual high-five.

You aren’t sure what you expected. You kind of already know he’s big from the few times you guys have gone swimming together. And he’s accidently brushed up against you before when scooting past you and worn sweatpants that did absolutely nothing to help him hide an erection (another reason why you’re never watching a Margot Robbie movie with him again). 

But feeling it now…knowing exactly what this man is in possession of…feels forbidden.

You keep your expression stoic, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your awe as you watch the way his lashes flutter.

“Easy,” you warn in a delicate whisper. “Rule number one…make a sound and I stop.”

His teeth grit as he leans back against his seat. “Fine.”

“Good.” You bring your fingers together until you can cup your palm around him, adding just the slightest amount of pressure before glancing back at your friends.

They’re laughing about something, you don’t really know what, but you smile and nod along as if absolutely enthralled.

And as the seconds pass, you feel Harry grow harder in your hand. Needier. He shifts at least three times a minute, clearly struggling to keep from bucking up into your touch.

You’re being as easy on him as you can. A few squeezes, a bit of palming, and some light brushing just to tease him.

He’s gripping onto the edge of the table so tight, you’re surprised it’s not shaking. But he’s restraining himself, as best he can, and you feel oddly…proud.

You maneuver a little closer, head dipping until your lips are close to his ear. To anyone else, it might look like you're merely trying to be heard over the loud music.

But Harry knows better.

"This...is where the fun is," you tell him. "Knowing it would be so easy to have you coming in your pants. Right here, right now. In front of everybody."

You add a bit more pressure and watch the way the veins in his arms begin to strain against his skin. The way the muscles in his jaw constrict and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmur as his fingers begin to scratch down the table, desperate to grab onto something. “Feel what it does to you…to be played with. Just like this…exactly like you wanted.”

He sucks in a quiet gasp for air as his head threatens to drop back, little curls falling across his forehead.

He’s not stopping you. And you know he won’t. He’ll happily let himself go right into his trousers, in front of the whole goddamn resturant. Right here, right now.

But that wasn’t apart of the lesson.

So, just when you can feel his resolve begin to crumble…you stop.

He exhales a long, deep breath, slumping into the chair as if completely drained of all energy, and you almost want to laugh.

“So…what did you learn?” you ask softly as you lean back in.

“That Eric’s a fucking ass,” he replies instantly, shooting you a lazy grin. “And that we’re definitely not kids in a tree house anymore.”

“No kidding,” you agree. “Anything else?”

He mulls this over, eyeing you closely. “That I think I’m more of a…hands-on learner.”

Your brow raises. “What does that mean?”

His answer comes in the form of his touch, hand outstretching for your leg, long fingers brushing across the hem of your dress. “It means…I need to see for myself.”

He pauses down by your knee in order to allow you the time to understand and either accept him or reject him. 

But you simply blink, focus falling from his face down to your lap. “Ah…I suppose that makes sense.”

His lips roll into his mouth. “Mhm…what do you say, Teach?”

Your nose scrunches at the nickname but you smile. “I say practice makes perfect.”

And he wastes no more time in slipping beneath the fabric to travel up your thigh and toward your hips.

Now, you’re the one forced into restraint, a gasp immediately hitching in your throat as he brushes his thumb down the front of your underwear.

It instantly brings you back to the last time, and his touch, while familiar and oddly reassuring, makes your head spin.

You slowly look over at him, taking note of the way he’s so goddamn proud of your reaction, and the way he returns his attention to your friends.

Exactly like you had.

Because this is the lesson after all. The concept of teasing and torture and watching somebody come undone so easily.

The idea of getting caught. 

You could tell from the moment you reached for him that this was something he was into. But even when he was trying not to thrust up into your hand, it was obvious that his interest lied with you and your pleasure.

With the idea of putting you under this sort of duress.

He really is a sadist.

Good to know.

"How's this for practice?" you hear him murmur as you become vaguely aware of the way he's scooted his chair closer to you.

You open your mouth, lips parted and ready to respond, but you can feel the beginning of a whimper threatening its escape.

So you swallow—thickly—and nod your head once.

"Good, then?" he asks, and you have to fight the urge to cross your legs over his hand. "Bee...I need you to speak."

But you can't fucking speak. The pressure of his touch has increased, and it feels so...so fucking good. "It's....yeah. Fine. It's fi—"

Suddenly, you gasp, and thankfully, it's lost beneath the jazz music still loudly playing through the restaurant.

But it's not lost on Harry, and you watch his smug smile expand as his teasing begins to slow. "Uh-uh," he tuts softly. "You know the rules. Make a sound...and I stop."

You exhale the singular word, "Har," and he hums.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"

You have to physically fight the urge to whimper with desperation. Truth be told, he’s hardly even doing anything, but his hands…

You’d fucked up by sneaking a glance down at the tattooed skin disappearing beneath your dress. Because it’s sinful to feel the cold, metal of his rings brush against your warm thighs. Sinful to know he’s pressing his thumb into you just to feel the way you’ve begun to soak the material he’s so effortlessly playing with. 

He…is sinful.

And then suddenly…his touch disappears. Retreats from between your legs as your mouth just about drops open.

And you could cry at the loss of contact because it felt so safe and so exciting. Teasing or not, it was so fucking good, and you hate him for making you go without.

But then…you learn why.

His fingers move to wrap around the edge of your seat, getting a good grip on it…before he yanks.

Your chair is forced closer to his, squeaking against the floor as he begins to smirk victoriously.

“There,” he declares quietly before his hand is returning to your lap. “Much better, don’t you think?”

And it is better because now he’s so much closer, and has so much more room, and you’re so fucking close to just throwing in the towel and hurling yourself at him. Friends be damned.

“Speak, Bee,” he repriminds after a minute of your silence, and instantly, you begin to squirm.

“Har,” you whisper, both begging him for his mercy and for his cruelty.

“What?” he replies evenly. “What do you need, hm?”

You, you think. “Can’t…s’just…”

“Come on,” he tsks. “Think you can do better than that, can’t you?”

But you can’t.

“Please,” you try again, a faint request. 

“Please…what?”

“Har…”

“Uh-uh. Tell me. What?”

Again, you swallow, willing yourself to stay silent. "Har—”

“No.”

“Harry—"

"...Harry?"

This time, it's Charlie calling his name, and immediately, you go deathly still as you turn back toward your friends.

However, Harry is calm as he raises a brow. "Yeah?"

For a moment, the three across from you simply stare, rather curiously before Charlie says, "Oh, I was just asking how Tina is?"

You could almost moan with relief.

“She’s good, yeah,” Harry answers cooly, pointer finger hooking around the edge of the material on your thighs to pull it aside. “Yeah, real good. Been working a lot, so I haven’t seen her much.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Jackie offers with a pout. “Is she nice? Will we like her?”

Harry laughs, head shaking with amusement as if he’s not dragging his thumb down your clit while you swallow a rather desperate whine. “She’s nice. I don’t know if we’ll ever make it that far, though.”

Caleb’s head tilts. “What do you mean?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out, like…twice. S’not really that serious yet.”

And you almost snort, because to you…he seemed pretty serious about her.

But you suppose eating pussy doesn’t exactly require an engagement ring, and maybe he just wants a fuck buddy.

“Well…she still needs to pass the approval test,” Jackie argues with a wink. “And the fact that she strung you along for two months is not doing her any favors.”

“She was just making him work for it,” Charlie teases. “And he needs to be humbled, so I say good for her.”

“Please. Look at him,” she snorts. “He’s too pretty to be this dumb. Okay, he can do better than Tammy—”

“Tina,” Harry corrects before slowly easing the tip of his finger in, and your entire body goes rigid.

“—yeah, whatever. The point is…you can do better,” Jackie finishes proudly, shooting a pointed look toward Charlie.

Harry begins to smirk, slowly stealing a glance at you. “Yeah. Maybe we can all do better.”

Now curious, Caleb nods at you, and you do your best to control your reactions as he says, “Yeah, speaking of which…have you heard from…him?”

You shake your head quickly, mentally damning Harry to hell as he pushes in a bit further just to make it harder for you to reply. “Uh…no. Nope. Not since that night.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jackie tells you. “No, really. I will. I’ll hit him with my car and drag his dead body out to the woods, and watch the bears eat him.”

You breathe out a laugh, but it’s outrageously forced, and Harry can tell. “It’s…it’s fine. He’s…you know, we all move on. I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Harry says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Yeah, you seem fine.”

“Oh, I am,” you murmur through a tight-lipped smile. “Fucking fantastic.”

“Good,” he hums before you can feel him curl upward. “Hope it stays that way.”

Your hands drop to the chair beneath you, and you grip onto the sides for dear life in an attempt to keep from reeling. “Thanks for your…concern.”

“Anytime,” he beams as you feel him slip out. “Just want you to…do and feel the best that you can.”

The wet pad of his finger then returns to your clit as he presses into it just to push it in a teasing circle.

Your eyes just about roll back as you quickly turn your face toward your shoulder and fake a cough. “Fuck…sorry,” you apologize hoarsely as your friends look on.

“Are you all right?” Jackie asks softly. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have brought him up. We can change the subject.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” you sigh, hoping to sound casual, despite the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of a wail. “Really, he’s just…a guy. Just some…stupid…sadistic…evil fucking…guy.”

And while the group across the table snorts their agreement, you see that Harry knows that jab was aimed directly at him.

He winks.

“I, uh…I need to go to the bathroom,” you suddenly declare, grabbing onto his wrist to forcefully shove it away before standing to your feet. “Be right back.”

“Feeling all right?” Harry asks innocently as he watches you push your chair in. 

“Just delightful,” you reply before brushing your hands down the front of your dress. “Seriously, keep eating. I won’t be long.”

You leave the table before Harry can make another quippy remark, quickly making your way for the extravagant restroom in the back of the restaurant.

Honestly, you thought you had a little more self-control. You thought it wouldn’t be so easy to get you so on edge, and yet here Harry is, making you clench so hard in your chair, you nearly burst a blood vessel.

You lock the door behind you and make a beeline for the sink. You flip on the cool water and gently trail it down your arms and chest to cool yourself down as you will the ache between your legs to subside.

It’ll be easy to take care of once you get home, but you’re rather impressed with Harry’s commitment to…education.

And something about looking your friends in the eye as he played with your cunt like a toy was oddly invigorating.

Far more invigorating than it ever had been with…Eric.

You’ve no sooner smirked at this thought when your phone begins to buzz from its place on the counter.

Glancing down, you aren’t surprised to see a text from Harry, but it does make you laugh.

How’s it going?

Good. Just getting myself off before I come back, you answer.

Yeah? Texting me while you touch yourself? Hot.

Well, it’s not the first time.

A good minute passes before he responds, and you can easily imagine the way his eyes went wide. 

Seriously?

Seriously. Why, is that weird?

Are you fucking kidding? No, it’s…I mean, it’s hot. Very, very hot.

Your brow raises. Yeah?

Kind of rude you never told me, though. Clearly I would have been of great help.

In my defense, I was a little…busy. It’s already hard enough to type with one hand.

And even if you aren’t exactly touching yourself right now…you aren’t lying about having done it before. Not on purpose, of course. He just happened to text you right in the middle of your alone time and needed an answer ASAP.

So…you’d answered.

Yeah? Do you need an extra hand? he replies next, and you chuckle under your breath as you lean against the sink.

Why, do you know someone?

Funny.

Thank you, I thought so.

Is that a yes, then?

I think I’m managing just fine.

Yeah? So you’re pinching your clit nice and tight for me? 

You feel your breath hitch. This certainly isn’t helping. Obviously.

And you’re clenching around your fingers for me? How many you using? One? Two? Maybe three? Know you like to feel stretched.

“Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you glance off into the bathroom. He’s trying to kill you. 

Can’t really clench around anything when I have to keep answering these texts. Go eat your food and leave me to it.

And what kind of student would I be if I did that?

An obedient one.

And does that sound like me?

“Nope,” you respond aloud, but type, You have been so far.

Think I’d be more obedient if I finished what I started.

I mean…maybe if you knew how.

You wait to watch the bubbles roll across your screen, but when they don’t come, your heart sinks.

And then…there’s a knock.

A rather fervent and determined knock that makes you jump as you look toward the door.

“Bee…let me in.” 

Shit. “I…uh, I’m a little busy.”

“I know,” comes the deep, sultry reply. “So, let me in.”

“Har—”

“Open the goddamn door, Bee, before I break it down.”

Clearing your throat, you put your phone aside and cautiously tiptoe toward the door.

After sliding the lock over, you pull it back just a hair, and peek through the crack. “Uh, hi. Sorry, this bathroom is a little occupied at the moment—”

His large hand comes out to press against the wood as he forces it open and steps inside. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him before scrambling to push it closed and relock it. “Uh…yeah? Why?”

He strides a bit further into the bathroom before turning around to look at you, almost as if suspicious. “Honestly? I kind of thought you came in here to hide from me.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know.” His arms cross over his chest. “I know you didn’t actually come in here to fuck yourself, so I thought…maybe you just felt uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know I didn’t come in here to do that?” you retort.

He smirks. “’Cause you always use both hands. And if you were texting me…you weren’t fucking yourself.”

“And how do you know I use both hands?”

He shrugs. “You told me once.”

Oh…right. “Well…maybe I was multi-tasking.”

“You weren’t,” he rejects immediately. “No, I think you either came in here to hide from me…or because you were upset about what they said. You know, about…him.”

An invisible fist snaps closed around your heart as you stare at the man across from you. The devious intentions and teasing from before are long gone as the man you’ve known for years, your best friend…stands before you.

The concern is evident on his face as you take a step closer. “Har…honestly, I’m fine. I wasn’t hiding from you, and I really don’t care about Eric. I came in here to keep myself from coming all over your fucking hand.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with the temptation to smile, but his gaze remains skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You nod, taking another step. “Come on, I think it’s a little late to start questioning me now, don’t you?”

He sucks on his teeth. “Well…I can never tell with you.”

“I feel like I made my enjoyment quite clear.”

“I thought so, too. Until you made me stop.”

Now, only inches away from him, you come to a halt. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly feel like explaining why I moaned to our friends, you know?”

His thumb rubs across the skin of his arm as he peers down at you. “Thought that was the whole point of exhibitionism.”

You shrug, eyes falling across his features. “Yeah…or maybe I just wanted to keep you to myself.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know…like a secret.”

Instantly, he grins, exhaling a laugh at the reminder of the pact you two made when you were younger. “We are good at secrets.”

“The best,” you agree giddily before the laughter dies out, and something seems to shift within his expression.

“Then I think it’s only fair we finish the lesson,” he says quietly, leaning a bit closer as you begin to still. “After all…I still need to show my work.”

Your lashes flutter, the smell of his cologne beginning to overwhelm you. God, why does he always smell so good? “Guess…guess that’s only fair,” you agree faintly, and he seems pleased.

His head dips, nose brushing yours as he works to catch you off guard. “Then tell me what to do, Bee. And I’ll do it.”

It comes out before you can stop it. “Kiss me.”

He’s surprised by this request, going momentarily quiet but you don’t miss the way his focus falls to your lips, as if pondering.

“Kiss me,” you repeat, fingers itching to latch onto the back of his neck. “And this time…do it right.”

He seems impressed as he fights an arrogant smirk. “Right, huh?”

“Yeah.” You straighten up, bringing your mouths a tad closer, but still without contact. “Know you can. Know you know how to be gentle, don’t you?”

And almost as if in retaliation, his hands find your hips, squeezing rather harshly as he begins to back you up toward the wall.

When you collide with it, he grins. “Dunno about that.”

“Try,” you whisper, hands dancing up his chest. “Trust me, you’ll get a lot more points that way. The right kiss can do everything, and I promise…she’ll love it.”

He considers this for a moment, studying you closely before you feel his palm delicately cup your cheek. 

He tilts your head back as he moves in, deliberately slow. “Everything, huh?”

You smile, nodding once. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Everything.”

He kisses you.

Soft, and careful, and sadistically tame. He kisses around your mouth, peppers kisses to your bottom lip, to your cheek, to the line of your jaw. 

He keeps his tongue from you, and you almost huff because after everything, you think you at least deserve a taste.

And finally, once you’re moments away from wilting in his hands, he takes that taste for himself.

Your head spins and your mind goes blank and everything makes sense.

Because kissing him is fun, and it makes you want to laugh, and kiss him forever, and never leave this one spot.

And you’re so enchanted by this revelation that you don’t notice his hand traveling between your bodies to return to its home between your thighs.

But he slips underneath your dress without a moment's delay, fingers returning to their work of pulling your panties aside to finish what he started. And when you gasp into the kiss…he swallows the sound with ease.

“Is that right, hm?” he teases as he slides in. “That good?”

Your lashes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours, and you don’t offer a response because he already knows.

His precision just about kills you. In, out, in, curl, twist, pinch, pull. You can feel the drip down your thighs, can hear the sounds he’s making, can taste his desperation in each kiss he gives you.

And when you suddenly whine and squirm in his hold, he smiles. “There it is, yeah? Right there…s’what you needed, isn’t it?”

It is. It’s exactly what you’d needed, and he strokes the spot with fervor and just a touch of wonder.

It’s cruel and it’s wonderful and it feels so fucking good, and nothing else makes sense to you except him.

Just him and the way you’re about to come undone by his hand for a second time.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, lazily kissing under his ear, and he seems to sigh with contentment as he braces you both against the wall to continue. 

“Come on, Bee…know it’s gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” he coos, but his voice is thick. “Know it hurts, so give it to me, yeah? Just give it to me. Let me make it better.”

And it overwhelms you, consumes you, controls you. His smell, his touch, his words. The past, the present, him. Just him. Only him. Right now. Everything.

The sound that rips from your throat feels foreign to you. It’s loud and desperate and eager, and he presses his lips to yours to be a part of it.

It goes for what feels like hours, but time doesn’t have a place here. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes. You don’t know, you don’t care.

You just…let it.

And you don’t realize the way you’ve slumped into his embrace as he holds you up, keeps you steady.

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you, murmuring words of encouragement with just a hint of teasing. 

You don’t realize he’s refusing to let go.

But once you do, you realize something else, too:

You don’t want him to let go.

"Think we might have a problem," he whispers after a moment, lips following the curve of your shoulder as he offers a few parting kisses.

Your head falls back against the wall and you take a few deep breaths. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Well...you kind of fucked up," he begins as he moves to the other side of your neck, sucking on the vein just below your ear. "You gave me a taste, showed me what I've been missing."

You can feel yourself smile through the haze as his hands continue to grope at your waist.

"I mean, just knowing..." he continues, nosing under your jaw, "...you've been keeping so much knowledge from me...this whole time."

Your laugh is airy as you reach up to comb through his curls. "Is that right?"

He hums as he nods, the palm of his hand slowly smoothing up your stomach, pushing the hem of your dress along with it. "And now I don't know if I can go without. Feel so fucking insatiable...just thinking about what else you might be hiding from me."

With this, his fingers delicately ghost under the curve of your tit, forcing you to arch into his touch as he smirks.

"And what is it...you want to know?" you manage to reply, voice soft and nearly inaudible.

He pulls back and meets your eye.

"Everything."

Shit.

"Everything?" you murmur, subtly tugging him closer.

"Everything," he repeats. "Anything. All of it. You. Me. Us. Every fucking second, every fucking way."

You know what he's proposing. Know exactly what this means, but you don't know if a friendship would survive.

And you don't know which is more important.

"So...what do you expect me to do?" you ask breathlessly, still squirming beneath his hold.

He smiles. "I expect you...to show me."

"Show you," you repeat, as if in a trance.

"Show me," he whispers, moving back in to lick at your bottom lip. "Teach me. How to be better. How to be right. How take care of you. Wanna give you everything you need."

"Everything," you breathe.

"Everything." His other hand gently comes up to cradle the back of your neck. "Whatever you want, whatever you need. Tell me and I'll give it to you. Promise."

But what do you need?

"Are you sure?" you ask, softly pushing on his chest to garner his attention. "It's not like teaching you to play pool, Har. Exploring kinks is...delicate. Sacred. It's not a game."

"I know," he replies, sobering ever-so-slightly. "That's why it can't be anybody else. It has to be you."

It has to be you.

"Why?" you challenge.

He simply offers you a knowing look. "Why wouldn't it be?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking for a reason to say no. Looking for the strength to know better.

But maybe you don't know better.

Maybe you just know him.

"Teach me," he says again, thumb stroking your jaw as those familiar eyes bleed right through to your heart. "Make me better."

Better.

Everything.

Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else feels right.

Just him.

"Okay," you agree quietly, and his entire face lights up. "For science."

"For science," he repeats, dipping down to press his lips to your cheek in thanks. "But only if you're sure. I'd never want you to agree just because of me. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He leans back. Frowns. He's unconvinced. "I mean it, Bee. I'm not asking just because I can. I’m asking because…it feels like something we both want. But if it's not—"

You kiss him again, stealing the rest of his argument. "I know how to say no to you, Harry. Think you should know that by now."

He smiles against your mouth. "Guess so."

For the next minute or so, you don't speak. He simply takes hold of your face with both hands and paints his gratitude across your tongue.

"So...where do you wanna start?" you ask when he finally allows you a second of reprieve.

"You tell me," he reminds you, and you feel yourself smirk.

"All right," you agree before slipping your fingers through the loops on his pants.

His eyes go wide.

Then, you tug.

"Let's start...with everything."

You bet your ass there’s gonna be a part 3, because now that they’ve opened the door…there’s no closing it 😗 and Harry’s got a long list of new kinks to discover! And I’m strangely excited about it?? This is concerning?? Pray for me???

Next Part:

~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)

Previous Part:

~ Teach Me* (Pt. 1)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@tiaamberxx @harrystylesfan2686

[alexlwrites]

from my notes app:

Just picture it: Yoongi who just... never had a crush. Sure, he has felt attraction that sometimes evolved into something more through dates or other encounters. But a crush? Feet kicking, face blushing, giddy giggles? No, he couldn't say he ever experienced that.

Until you.

Until you showed up, a new manager at the company, and left him shaking in his disconcertingly large boots. You were bright, witty, charismatic and hard working and he stood there, arms hanging by his side awkwardly like a damn emoji, hovering around you unsure about what to do, what to say, how to act.

It was so frustrating! He never felt this way before and at 30 years old he felt as if he was going through a late puberty: voice cracking when he tried talking to you, waking up sweating from a dream way too realistic, poorly timed boners when he saw you walking around the office with skin tight pencil skirts.

His so called friend weren't making it any easier for him: Yoongi had officially become the butt of every joke as the members collectively regressed back to the 5th grade, murmuring everytime you showed up "here comes your wife, hyung, here comes Mrs. Suga".

Thankfully, you seemed unaware of their jabs, even as yoongi's pale cheeks blushed fiercely at the name.

He didn't know whether to be greatful or resentful for your obliviousness. On one side, you didn’t seem to hear the constant on going teasing from the other 6 raccoons he shared a band with, which saved yoongi from the swift death at the pearly hands of embarrassment, ripping his dramatic soul from his even more dramatic body.

On the other hand, you couldn’t seem to take a hint! He tried all of his best moves: standing there silently next to you, offering you a single tangerine, playing the guitar when you walked in whilst offering absolutely no explanation or context, even wearing his most scandalous, whorish outfit: a white tshirt that showed his collarbones instead of his usual 37 layers of clothing.

He didn't know how to make it any more obvious! Should he just take you against the wall of his studio (he totally should!, his lower brain unhelpfully provided as you once again strutted past him leaving him sniffing after your perfume like the fucking dog he was)?

He even tried asking his friends for advice, the lowest form of humiliation possible: Jungkook offered only baby oil and told him to lose a couple buttons. Hoseok made him couple matching beaded bracelets. And Namjoon, scorpio venus horndog, told him to actually go through with the wall taking idea.

Funnily enough, Jin was the one with the most plausible idea: give her a gift, bake her something! Homemade goods would show her how much you care.

So there he was, at thirty years old, holding onto a plate of cookies like a lifeline, cold sweating in front of your office, ready to flee the building and suck up those cookies like a hungry Kirby and mop in his own lameness like the international grammy nominee celebrity he was.

And then you opened the door and his body just reacted on his own, thrusting the plate towards you silently as his eyes screamed pure panic.

"For me?" You asked and he just nodded "Thank you so much, you are so sweet!"

Yoongi felt his lips curving and even without a mirror he could tell he had a dumbstruck smile on his face.

"What's the occasion?"

Ask her out, he urged himself. Tell her how you feel, how you can't stop thinking about her face, how her smile fuled his daydreams and her perfume haunts his days, bleeding into his psyche and sinking its claws into his heart, turning every song he wrote into a proclamation of adoration and lust, tell her how...

"Hm, for all y-your hard wo-work" he sputtered, mentally face palming himself at his own words.

Bugger.

Bugger it all to hell.

(Part 2>>>)

[kleewie]

i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you (and i)

summary: dating tip? just don't. for celebrities, romantic relationships are absolutely forbidden. the slightest hint of one could ruin your career. but are you even listening to the lecture? doubt it, 'cause you're doing the complete opposite. (alternatively, a celebrity au featuring secret relationships.)

→ featuring: childe, & ayato (you can really tell who my faves are)

→ warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slight cursing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, tension, actual cursing, unreliable reader pov, gender-neutral reader (i apologize if i missed things, i haven't proofread it yet)

→ a/n: so, hi! long time no see? i was pretty stressed with college and well, i'm back! i began writing this last year and finally got the courage to finish it. but here it is and i hope you enjoy it :> please let me know if you like it <3 it really makes my day!

credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts!

beware, lengthy post ahead! more under the cut!

the debut.

“forbidden?” you repeat.

“absolutely forbidden!” your manager says. “a rookie with no fanbase? a scandal will ruin your reputation! you're absolutely forbidden from dating anyone.”

you sigh. he's being too overdramatic.

you will never be in a relationship, you're absolutely sure. how can you? with no time for yourself as it is, dating someone with the limited hours you already have sounds impractical.

besides, you're too busy training and practicing for auditions.

remembering it now, you want to laugh.

i told you so, your thoughts chastise.

god, you should've listened.

childe, the actor

“that's a wrap!” the director cheers.

your eyes glisten as you hold back tears. it's embarrassing, you think. so damn embarrassing.

you've been repeating the same kissing scene multiple times now. obviously, the director cheers for finally completing the take and not because you did a good job.

childe pats your back. “you did great,” he says, with a smile.

but you know the gesture so goddamn well. the same nonchalant cold grin he throws at everyone that he now directs at you? oh, he's angry alright.

for what reason? who knows. you're too busy wallowing in self-despair over how terrible your acting is.

the scene is supposedly simple. it involves the second lead, who happens to be you, confessing their love to the leading man, resulting to a spontaneous kiss.

yet, you're fumbling over the lines, acting so out of character, tripping over set, incorrectly initiating the kiss at awkward angles—the whole time-wasting squander.

“what's going on?” childe eventually asks, once he arrives at your shared apartment. his bag drops to the floor with a flop. “you're acting strange. the entire crew sees it, i see it, the director sees it—what if he decides to fire you? what will you do then?”

you swallow dryly. you left the set early hoping childe's hectic schedule prompted him to forget the whole issue. yet, here he is finally bringing up the conversation after what feels like a month's worth of tension.

as you sit on the sofa chair, your fingers massage the bridge of your nose. breathe in, breathe out. you repeat. don't cry. you try to calm yourself down as a sob tries to break through.

eight months, you've been a couple.

but, there are some things you're afraid to say.

each year, the biggest tabloid newspaper in the country releases an article on celebrity dating scandals. a month ago they released one single page article about a popular actor dating a newbie actress. it barely had any juicy details, just a simple paragraph of a somebody dating a nobody.

yet, it did not end well for them. and you're terrified; for when it could happen to you.

you imagine it. dozens of messages and multiple missed phone calls on your cell as your name becomes the next talk of the town. the headline reads: revealed! a nobody actress, the second-lead from the northland bank saga currently dates the nation's boyfriend, childe!

it terrifies you. you could lose your job. lose what you love doing the most. and you could get tossed aside like an old sweater under someone's bed, left to rot and decompose.

so, yes. you hesitated earlier at set because you don't want anyone to connect the dots. to look at the kiss between you two and notice something amiss. to speculate that there's more to your relationship than what meets the eye. to realize you look at him as more than a co-star. to see how much you're in love with him. to realize the both of you are dating.

“it's not easy.” you say, releasing a sigh.

two years you've been in the business. rookies barely get any roles as it is. being in a well-received rendition of an old romance drama is a once in a blue moon opportunity and you can't risk someone finding out about your relationship.

“camera shy? no—you've kissed heaps of actors for that school drama.”

you mumble, “two people aren't heaps of actors, tartaglia.”

“then what is the problem?”

childe saunters to where you sit. he leans towards you and presses his palm on the head of the sofa, trapping your body between his and the chair. childe's eyes meet yours and you instantly look away.

he knows you well enough to comprehend that look on your face. the way you hide your clammy hands behind you, the manner of your eyes staring only at your feet, how your body tucks itself into the corner of the seat.

“me?” childe whispers.

he places a hand under your jaw. his thumb softly pushes your chin upwards so your eyes meet his.

“why?” he pleads.

“you won't understand.”

“i will if you tell me,” he says, holding your gaze. seeing how you relentlessly persist on keeping your mouth shut, he shakes his head. “oh, please tell me.”

you hesitate. you tell him and then what?

you could say: hey, childe! i'm afraid of our relationship being discovered. i'll be hated by your fans. you'll be constantly drained by my crying and whining. your reputation would take a hit regardless of how popular you are and—and then he'll finally realize how exhausting and annoying it is being with you.

your self-deprecation loves to pull you deeper into its sapping embrace. you're nothing, it mouths. childe would dump you and find some other actor or actress to date. god. it would be so easy. with his popularity, good looks, and charming personality, he'd find a better and talented rising-star the moment he chucks you out the front door.

so, you shake your head firmly.

“tell me, please.” he whispers.

you cross your arms, and look away.

“are you sick?”

you shake your head.

“somebody hurting you on set?”

again, you shake your head.

childe pauses, “...do you have feelings for someone else?”

“no!”

“then what is the damn problem?”

“nothing!” you exasperate, furrowing your brows together.

childe takes your reluctance as distrust and it ignites his irritation. do you not trust him? is he that insignificant to you? what are you hiding? hell, did you fall for the main lead of the show, zhongli? or do you not love him anymore? god, he can feel himself suffocate in resentment.

is he so unimportant that you'd prefer to keep the problem to yourself? it makes his blood boil; how he'd do anything for you, but you'd rather keep it to yourself and suffer alone.

“tell me.” childe scowls as he watches your lips quiver.

you keep your mouth firmly shut.

“fine, hold your tongue.” he sneers, “i understand. i really do, baby. it's not about the cameras, the flashing lights, the audience.”

childe brushes his lips against yours, “you wouldn’t kiss me like that in public, though, would you?” he releases his hold on your chin and his sharp eyes meet yours. “it’s only behind closed doors when you care to act like we’re each other’s.”

with a hooded jacket in one hand and a face mask in another, childe swiftly leaves the apartment with a slam of a door.

leaving you alone with your wretched thoughts.

more under the cut!

despite walking out the flat hours ago, childe still reverberates jealousy and anger; pure envy at how normal you act around everyone else yet, around him you're too guarded; and angry at himself for saying those awful words to your face.

he smacks his forehead on the steering wheel. childe acknowledges how childish he's been acting. you aren't ready to talk, and he shouldn't be forcing you to speak out your difficulties.

surely, the stress is piling up on you. he knows the hours you've been working on set, memorizing lines, practicing moves—again, he thumps his head on the wheel.

stupid, he curses. control your damn temper next time.

he reaches for the box of blueberry cheesecake on the front passenger seat. subconsciously, he drove two hours (and back) to the bakery's main branch as its side branches were sold out of your favorite cake. and he knows how much you love the pastry.

however, his body slouches in the parked car outside the apartment. the long drive works miracles with his anger, but the courage to actually walk inside and apologize never comes.

the ding of a text draws his attention. ‘go inside and beg for forgiveness, brat.’ yoimiya, a fellow actress from the same company as him, says. the woman is always in the loop and well-informed.

a shiver goes down his spine. if you told yoimiya about the argument, he's absolutely sure you're furious. you'd only speak to her as a last-ditch effort; knowing her personality she'd pummel him to bits while you watch.

as a result, he stands inside the apartment, one hand knocking on your bedroom door. however, instead of tasting blood, he hears your stifled sobs. the abrupt sound convinces him to turn the knob and enter the room.

the illumination from the hallway brightens the bedroom, shining a bit of light on your face. you lay on the bed with your knees to your chest, with a blanket over your waist. your reddened cheeks and tear-stained eyes makes his stomach churn.

“please don't cry, baby.” childe cooes, kneeling by your bedside. he leans over you, his fingers gently grip your cheeks. “i'm so sorry.”

the sudden apology sprouts pools from your eyes. his thumbs brush the water off your face and softly says, “i shouldn't have said—please, don't cry. it's my fault for taking my anger out on you.”

“i'm afraid of losing you,” you whimper. “if they find out—oh god—they'll tear me apart. i'm nothing compared to you. i'd lose everything. i might even lose you—”

“never, i will never leave you. no matter what happens,” childe interjects.

you furrow your brows, sobbing. “i'm no one—too difficult,” you hiccup. “you'll throw me away. i'm too whiny and too draining. if they find out... you'll see all the comments about how ugly—”

“breathe, baby.” he settles himself on your bed and softly places you on his lap. “you're gorgeous. you're not draining, and frankly, you're cute when you whine.”

you bury your face into his neck and continue, “i'm serious, childe. you'll get exhausted. the articles will talk about you too!”

“articles, mhm. they're just articles.” he hums.

irritation begins to set in. was he this clueless? you release another sob, “they're not just articles. they'll nitpick every single thing you do! oh—look at this newbie getting together with childe. oh, they suck at acting! why is childe even—”

childe gently places his palm on your neck, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “are you talking about the tabloid from last month?”

you sigh, “what else am i talking about?” and instantly you sense his laughter resonate. “are you laughing?”

“you're adorable, baby.” he breathes, nuzzling his face on your neck.

“you're making fun of me! what the hell, childe?”

he releases a sigh, pausing his laughter. “the tabloids every month. they're paid. companies pay them to talk about their idols for publicity.”

your face contorts into confusion, “who would willingly—they talked about lumine all month because of the article! you know she's my favorite actress. why would they willingly put her on the spotlight like that?”

“publicity, baby.”

you shake your head, “it makes no sense.”

“oh, it does.” childe hums. “of course, they'd seek permission first. it boosted views for her drama, didn't it? lumine did say she got extra for the views and switched apartments.”

“yeah, wait—you knew this whole time and didn't bother to tell me?”

he chuckles, “that's what you get for keeping these things to yourself for a month.” he squeezes the bridge of your nose.

“you're terrible.”

“love you too, baby.” he teases, “and besides, if a tabloid threatened to do something—” his thumb gently traces the skin around your neck. “—i'll keep you safe.”

a soft smile graces your features. “...i'm just not ready for anyone to find out. yet, anyway.”

childe hums, “we'll do it on your terms, okay? whenever you're ready.”

“sure, i guess you can keep me for a while longer. until you throw me away and find the next rookie to—”

childe's soft laughter sparks a flutter in your stomach. he would never do such a thing. the moment he first laid his eyes on you on set, heard your beautiful laugh between takes, listened to your jokes while practicing lines, and god, seen your angelic smile? the things he would do to keep you as his.

“never.” a cheeky grin appears on his lips, “i'll take care of you.”

bonus: five years later

your phone rings. the vibration continues on and off, signaling multiple inbox messages. you swipe your phone to see texts from several of your close friends.

‘i know you told me you were okay with it, but i didn't think he'd try to do it so soon. i tried but he's too hardheaded.’ says yoimiya.

‘congratulations! when's the wedding? i'm kidding. don't kill childe.’ says thoma, an actor from your same company.

‘sorrows, sorrows, prayers.’ says venti, your current co-star.

you even receive a message from childe himself.

‘good morning, baby. i'm completely fault-free. simply honoring your wishes as a devoted fiancé should.’

attached to a message was a link to a video entitled: please don't kill me honey.

you click the link.

the video's blurry, as if taken by a cellphone. you recognize thoma as the person videoing the whole scene, as he turns the camera to face him before focusing it on a woman—seemingly a fan of childe. she wears merch from his most recent drama.

a fan goes on stage chosen by a random lottery draw. the said fan wins the chance to interview childe, who was the guest of the day for talk show, and ask one question.

the girl hastily walks on stage, holding a microphone given by staff.

“um. hello, childe!”

the audience screams as the huge video screen focuses on your lover's face. he waves a quick ‘hello’ and the crowd yells louder.

the girl hesitates, “are you dating anyone right now?”

childe twists the microphone in his hands. “hm? right now... i'm not dating anyone.”

the crows sighs in relief, utterly happy their favorite leading actor continues to be single.

but you see the outline of a smirk flashing on his face, and you instantly know there's a deeper meaning to that sentence. “but, it's difficult to say... since we're not really dating as of the moment.”

quietly, you hear the voice of yoimiya whispering, “don't do it.” the camera now focusing on her, trying to get herself on stage. thoma flips the camera around to face it on himself, waving a hello, apparently enjoying the drama. he then focuses the camera on the wide screen, featuring childe's face.

to add mayhem into the mix, childe continues, “i don't think being engaged to your partner falls under dating. we're way past that.”

the interview ends with the audience screaming their lungs out in disbelief, while childe's laugh resonates the whole auditorium.

ayato, company director

“oh, them?” ayato's steady gaze meet yours, pressing his lips in a tight-lipped smile. “they're a friend of mine.”

friend. it echoes in your mind, repeating incessantly. friend. friend. friend.

dread creeps into the pit of your stomach akin to a quick flick of a lighter. after all this time, your stomach lurches. is that all he thinks of you?

god, you need a drink.

the businessmen before you smile, prompting you to return the favor. subsequently, you humbly introduce yourself as just an ‘actor in the industry’. and they laugh. of course they do.

who wouldn't know you? a multi award-winning movie and television star with piles of nominations. so modest, they say. so kind, they praise. you grin, the smile not reaching your eyes, thanking them for their compliments.

but you're so accustomed to their fake smiles, ingenuine flattery, and sweet talk; you never truly know what's actually honest and real—eyes flickering to your azure-haired partner—no, who's honest and real.

you swallow the thought down.

as if aware of the invisible daggers thrown his way, ayato's gaze meets yours. his lips are pressed firmly together, eyes devoid of warmth.

not now, his expression conveys.

you narrow your own eyes, irritation burning through your corneas. as much as you want to start an argument in front of his investors, you agree to his silent insistence. after all it's his gala; one he's tirelessly prepared for over several months.

so you bite your tongue and smile: one honed by years of acting—fake yet strangely genuine.

it's not strong enough. you say, sipping wine with shaky hands. earlier, you left ayato to his fellow businessmen using the excuse of needing a bathroom break, a reason to which he obliged.

you stare at the elaborate party before you, wishing you could go home. the gala swiftly dissolved your social battery, aided by forced mingling and bitterness. a friend, your consciousness repeats. always a friend. so you sit on a chair by the wall, sipping drinks like water.

suddenly, the hairs of your neck stand on end. you sense his presence behind you, prompting a glance through your peripheral vision.

“careful, darling.” ayato's says, tone smooth yet laced with warning. “i'd rather not have you collapsing. your lovely face wouldn't compliment these filthy floors.”

you tense immediately, shoulders stiffening. “reverting back to pet names, i see?”

ayato's hand now rests on your shoulder, his thumb brushing your soft skin. “what seems to be the issue? i doubt it's due to the eight glasses of wine you've consumed in one sitting.”

you roll your tongue in your mouth, practicing the words. let's break up. you bite your tongue. let's see other people. besides, he wouldn't care would he? it's not as if he's been acknowledging you as someone he's been dating, has he? hiding your relationship from his business partners is one thing, but concealing it from closest friends? his family? that's an entirely different matter altogether.

a friend, he says to his business partners.

a star from the company, he answers to his closest friends.

a companion, he whispers to his family.

you're sick and tired of it. all of it.

raising the wineglass to your lips, you drown the drink in one go. you raise two fingers signaling the waiter for another drink.

ayato sighs and you think you feel his hand on your neck tighten, ever so slightly. “you've reached your limit with wine, dear.”

soon, the waiter arrives with three more glasses on his tray. ayato's disapproving glare compels the waiter to scurry across the ballroom floor, steering clear of you.

you click your tongue and begin, “who says so?”

“your fiancé,” he mutters, voice dripping with venom.

you immediately scoff. “sure. for your sake, i'll pretend you mentioned that earlier.”

before ayato could retort, the presence of another individual calls his attention; his younger sister, ayaka.

“brother, the sangonomiya heir's requesting your presence.”

he sighs, irritation etching his features. yet, you blink, catching a subtle shift in his expression—seemingly twisting from annoyance to something resembling relief at the mention of sangonomiya's name.

you swallow the bitter thought.

“watch them for me, could you? i'd rather not have them find a server willing to disobey my instructions and serve them a drink,” ayato whispers, his tone betraying a hint of tension that doesn't go unnoticed.

ayaka nods. her consent prompts the older brother to depart, heading towards the misty rose-pink heir who stands at the opposite side of the ballroom.

ayaka says the inevitable, “you should let him know it bothers you.”

“...i'm not sure what you're referring to.”

her gaze follows yours, observing the giggling and cheerful countenances of the kamisato and sangonomiya heirs. they seem to be enjoying their time together. as always, you remark.

“they're just close friends, you know.”

you click your tongue. “like how him and i are just friends?”

ayaka sighs, understanding your implication. “you know what i mean.”

sangonomiya's hand on your partner's shoulder elicits an exasperated sigh from you. “thoma told me they were to be married if i wasn't here.”

“the man always running his mouth—” she takes a calming breath before continuing, “—but brother's very fond of you. i'm his sister, i should know.”

“then how come after dating him for five years, he still calls me his friend.” you pause, a hand sliding into the right pocket of your outfit. you absentmindedly play with the engagement ring inside. “i'm his fiancé, aren't i?”

“he has his reasons. petty reasons.”

you bite your tongue. or he's embarrassed of you.

you met the kamisato company heir two years after your debut as an idol. as you shifted towards acting, you developed a close relationship with his sister, a seasoned actress from the same company. eventually, she became the bridge that strengthened the bond between the two of you.

you dedicated yourself nonstop, evolving from a rookie actor to a multiple-nominee and winning star; all in the pursuit of being able to openly show off your relationship with ayato without it tarnishing your reputation.

however, when you're prepared to finally reveal your relationship, he isn't.

and it leaves you wondering, is there someone else?

you mean, you're hesitant to doubt the love of your life. but considering he's kept your relationship a secret from everyone for years, it's obvious he's adept at keeping things hidden.

even from you.

and the thought sours your mood.

excusing yourself once more to use the restroom, using the premise of consuming ten glasses of wine, you bid adieu to your favorite kamisato (at the moment). you instead head towards a secluded balcony away from prying eyes.

you stare at the garden below. your eyes quickly blink back the tears threatening to fall. not now, you hiss. don't do this to me, not right now.

“i assumed you would have retreated to your room by this point.” his voice murmurs, unnervingly composed.

you turn around to see your partner holding a glass of wine. his features remain blank, inscrutable.

maybe it's because of all the wine you've been drinking. you can't seem to tell between what's real or not.

“what did you discuss with kokomi?”

“i wasn't aware you were both on a first name basis.”

“answer the question.”

he smiles, “business as always.”

you huff and wrap your hands around your arms. “of course. just business.”

ayato immediately picks up the anger in your tone. he lays his palm on your forearm, gently pulling you towards him. “look at me,” he pleads, with a subtle trace of irritation in his voice.

you turn to look at his face, eyes glaring.

“i felt your glares the entire night.” he begins.

you shrug, smiling innocently. “...what ever do you mean?”

“don't toy with me, darling.”

as he enunciates his answer, it's as if the final thread of your patience snaps. does he still continue to feign innocence and lie to your face?

last month he proposed and you were overjoyed. you then expected a shift in your relationship; the final unveiling of your engagement to the public. you gave him your permission, a definitive “i'm ready for everyone to know.”

yet thirty days later the engagement remains concealed leaving only a few of his friends (thoma) and a few family members (ayaka) knowing about your updated relationship.

if it was the ayato from two years ago, he would be delighted—ecstatic even—to reveal the truth. he might have used the gala today as an avenue to scream to the world, this person and i are in love.

but he didn't.

so the weight of your feelings began to drag you down; it almost feels suffocating in a way. as if a ribbon labeled, he's ashamed, tightly winds around your insides, intricately tying them all together into a sophisticated bow sowing distrust whispering; he's hiding something.

your suspicions, coupled with his frequent visits this month to the sangonomiya estate, fueled your frustration until it erupted. if only he ceased pretending innocent, perhaps you would able to smile through the whole facade.

if only he didn't ask.

“i'm not naive. if you developed feelings for kokomi then you shouldn't have proposed.” you snap. “was it out of pity? did you feel so damn guilty that you chose to go through with the engagement instead of being honest about your feelings?”

ayato furrows his brows, mouth tightening in anger. “what are you talking about? i discuss private affairs with kokomi. business affairs.”

you laugh; one infused with irritation and disbelief. “don't tell me then. keep your stupid secrets.”

“do you want me to jot down a damn list detailing every single thing i do in a day?” he growls. “i won't divulge company secrets just because you feel like throwing a tantrum.”

your hands drift to the tie around his neck, tugging the crooked tie straight. “no. go ahead and keep your secrets.” you pause and roll the words with your tongue, “you're clearly very good at keeping secrets. you’ve kept me—us—as a secret for so long, so of course you’d be good at keeping fucking secrets.”

anger flares across his face. “you desired our relationship to remain a secret, and i respected your wishes.” he sneers, “i wanted to let the damn world know how much i'm in love with you yet, it was the opposite of what you desired.”

ayato releases his grip on you and strides back into the ballroom, but he halts right at the door to the balcony. “so don't dictate when i should reveal the truth simply because you've grown sick and tired of keeping me as your dirty, little secret.”

he finally departs; and you stay, tears pooling, with a profound ache in your heart.

ayato waltzes around the room in a nonchalant dance; yes, good to see you. he lies. how's business? he couldn't care less. enjoy the party! no, he wants everyone in the damn room to feel his wrath.

although he yearns to set the entire ballroom ablaze, ending the party prematurely would be ill-manned of him. so, ayato continues being a gracious and honorable host.

but he feels hollow. he envisions himself freezing the entire room in an icy gust, everyone turning into statues. he wants to sprint back into your arms and plead for you to listen.

he doesn't understand what came over him. why he lost his temper like that. typically, he'd manage your outbursts with composure and understanding. what happened? he doesn't know.

he attributes his outburst to the mounting pressure. the chronic lack of sleep and continuous exhaustion coming from his title as heir. perhaps it's the truth gnawing his skin; despite his powerful position atop the company, it can easily be ripped away with the flick of a wrist.

instead of spending time with his fiancé—he doesn't know if he still deserves to call you that, you probably threw away his ring the second he left the balcony—yet here he is, engaged in conversations with business associates he cares little about.

“brother?” ayaka calls. she finds him leaning against a railing of stairs. “i closed off the gardens.”

ayato swallows. he last saw you sneaking towards the grounds. “they're still on the grass?”

“yes.”

“they'll catch a cold.”

“they will.”

he glances at his sister. “they think i'm unfaithful.”

“i know,” she says matter-of-factly. “have you offered them any evidence to convince them otherwise?”

ayato stays silent.

“i know you care about them, brother.” ayaka sighs, “however, surprising them with a specially crafted ring and being petty when your entire relationship is at stake may not be the wisest move.”

he sighs.

“most especially if they suspect that your frequent visits to the sangonomiya manor are fueled by romantic feelings for its heiress, and not for their own wedding ring.”

after a while, ayato spots you lying on the grass in a starfish formation, having finally swallowed his pride. his eyes glaze over your features: red eyes, cheeks marked with tear stains, and an exhausted expression.

“can we talk?” he begins.

you spare a quick glance before turning your attention back to the night sky. “there's not much to talk about.”

“i'm not cheating,” he asserts.

“i know.”

“do you know, or have you resigned yourself to not knowing?”

“hm,” you hum. “a part of me entertains the thought of you cheating. yet an even smaller part absolutely knows that if you were truly cheating, you'd be more discreet. who, in their right mind, would inform thoma that you visited her manor?”

he chuckles, a laughter-less sound escapes him. “i understand i've been secretive. you have every right to assume i'm up to something indecent. but i have my reasons.” ayato confesses, kneeling beside your body. he places his hand inside his suit pocket, pulling up a black small box.

you instantly sit up. “you're horrible,” you cough, eyes widening as he opens the box to show a ring. “this entire time you were—god.”

“i placed a special order,” he mumbles. “i visited each day to ensure it was flawless, right down to the smallest details.”

“i'm so sorry.”

“don't be, love.” he breathes, “you had your reasons, and i was insistent on keeping it a surprise.”

relief floods your features. “good,” you whisper before tears well in your eyes.

the sound of your sobs breaks his heart. he immediately wraps his arms around you, brushing his lips on your cheeks.

“i'm sorry, darling,” he murmurs, kissing the skin above your brow. “i'm sorry for worrying you.”

“goddamn sadistic,” you sob. “you knew i was freaking out, but you just watched!”

he grins, “i have to admit, you look cute when you're jealous.”

a groan escapes you. “don't make me throw away both rings.”

“is that so? i should've ordered twenty spares.”

“no.” you scold.

“oh? look at my darling, so jealous,” he smirks, nuzzling his face into your neck. you then feel his lips press into a straight line. “you're not something i would ever try to hide. i would never be ashamed of our relationship.”

you laugh, “prove it.”

your smile faces seeing the smirk on his face. in that exact moment, you know that kamisato ayato, the preposterous god in human flesh, plans to do something grand and explosive to prove you otherwise.

“do not.” you begin, “we've talked about this. you cannot—you absolutely will not bribe the government to declare our wedding date as a national holiday!”

bonus: ten minutes before the clash

“is it getting warm in here, or am i sensing the intense gaze of your loving fiancé on me?” kokomi laughs, sipping a glass of champagne.

ayato takes a peek, and he chuckles upon seeing your irritated and jealous expression. “they certainly are.”

“please do not involve me in your lovers' quarrels. everyone knows we're just close friends.”

“they do.”

“have you told them?”

“...it may have slipped past my mind.”

kokomi shakes her head. “sadistic.” she slips a black box into his palm. “clear it up. i do not want to be murdered by your future partner.”

ayato glances at you from across the room as you engage a conversation with his sister. “mhm, i could, but their jealous expression is too endearing.”

“sadistic,” she repeats. “absolutely sadistic.”

he chuckles.

“also, kazuha mentioned that you've been referring to them as your companion. correct that.” she continues, “and stop calling them your friend!”

“they asked me to when we started dating.”

she rolls her eyes. “you're so petty. stop trying to provoke them!”

“anyways, everyone knows we're engaged,” he corrects. “their whining face is the cutest.”

“sadistic.”

“kokomi?”

she tilts her head and hums, “yes?”

“ever wondered how much it costs to propose a national holiday?”

author’s note: lmao. so in this modern au ayato actually succeeds in turning your wedding date into a national holiday. the government actually appreciates his donation because a.) they always accept goodwilled (lmao) funds and b.) ayato's an important pillar to the gov and they don't want to upset him 'cause petty rich boy tantrums tilt the economy (how sadistic).

so, ayato's the heir of the company where you are employed at as an idol turned actor/actress. kokomi is the heiress to a big jewelry corporation. lmao they were both engaged together when they were like five but they instantly broke it off because well, they both threw five year old tantrums.

plus thoma telling you that they were to be engaged was just a fact he blurted out when you asked about kokomi (he manages to omit the five-year-old part because he's careless + he didn't think it matters because anyone can tell ayato's intensely in love with you)

[into-the-grey]

~Green Dress~ Noah Sebastian x F!Reader Fic (18+)

Plot: Celebrating Jolly's accepted visa, the band has a party, and Folio brings an old friend. Noah is utterly captivated by her, and when he realises he knows her better than he thinks, tensions start to grow...

Warnings: P in V, fingering (female receiving), going commando, public sex (kind of)

Fic Masterlist

Also: Y/NN - Your Nickname… I had someone ask, so just in case you were unsure I wanted to clarify

The house was full of people, alcohol flowed and music blared from speakers in various rooms. Fairy lights and a fire pit lit the yard, giving the place a warm glow.

Jolly was back in LA, and this time he was staying. The visa process had been a nightmare, but he was back and he couldn't be happier.

A couple of girls clung to him, chatting up the tipsy Swede while he told stories of what it was like at home.

Noah stood in the corner, watching the party while he sipped his drink. A few girls had tried to talk to him, and he had been nice enough, but he had his eye on someone.

A gorgeous redhead had stolen his attention the moment she walked into the party on Folio's arm.

She was beautiful. Her hair hung down her back in crimson waves, and her deep brown eyes sparkled under the low light. But her dress...

The gold chain glittered, holding the emerald green satin to her body. The fabric wrapped around her curves, hugging her tightly and scandalously exposing her skin. The satin plunged between her breasts, a hint of a tattoo peeking out, and it cut off midway down her thigh. Every move seemed to be daring the dress to ride up, but it never did.

He was enamoured. This woman was walking sex, and there was no way she didn't know exactly what she was doing.

Damn Folio...

'Who's your friend?' Noah asked as Folio approached.

'Who, Y/NN?' Folio asked, a smirk on his face. Noah nodded, eyeing the woman while she chatted with a group of girls in bodycon dresses. She outshone them all.

'The redhead?' Noah clarified.

'Yeah, that's Y/NN,' Folio chuckled with a nod. 'She's a friend, and I owed her a favour.'

'So she asked to come to the party?'

'Something like that.' Folio picked a beer up from the cooler by the wall, cracking the can open and standing to Noah's side.

The men watched her move for a moment. She was graceful and charismatic, and her lilting laugh carried across the yard.

'You know her, you know,' Folio said simply.

Noah looked to Folio, raising an eyebrow. Folio chuckled again, shaking his head.

'Her hair was brown, and she definitely wasn't dressed like that last time you saw her. She ran cables for a few of our local shows.'

'That's Y/N?' Noah hissed, 'the one that had to quit tour cause her mom was worried we'd sacrifice her to Satan?'

Folio laughed, nodding. 'Yeah, she doesn't talk to her mom anymore. Her mom kept ruining gigs for her. She's been staying with a friend of mine for a while, she really came into her own after she cut her mom off.'

'Damn...'

'Go talk to her,' Folio pushed. 'You liked her, didn't you?'

Noah stammered, his fingers tightening around his drink. 'I did, but back then she wasn't out of my league.'

'She's still the same girl, Noah.'

Noah balked, shifting nervously on his feet. Folio laughed, tilting his chin up and whistling.

'Y/NN!' He called, waving her over.

Y/N's head lifted, seeing the men hiding in the corner. With a smile, she excused herself from the throng of people and made her way over to Folio and Noah.

'Noah! Hi!' She said with a grin, 'I haven't seen you in years, how's things?'

Noah shot a glare at Folio as he heard the younger man snickering.

'Things are good,' he said, swallowing hard. 'Clearly things are good for you too, I didn't even recognise you... you look amazing.'

'I'll leave you two alone,' Folio said, excusing himself with a smirk.

'Nick, are you being cruel again?'

'Of course,' Folio told her, looking between Noah and Y/N. 'Ask him to take you on a tour of the house,' he said with a wink.

'Nick,' Noah hissed, his cheeks turning red.

'You're welcome!' Folio said, grinning and walking away. Noah flipped him off as he walked away.

'He's such a jerk,' Y/N laughed, stepping towards Noah. Noah swallowed hard again, trying to keep his eyes on her face.

'Absolutely,' he said.

'I think he's got the right idea though, it's pretty crowded out here and I think we have a lot to catch up on,' she said, offering him her hand. 'Why don't we find somewhere quiet?'

'You're sure?' Noah stammered, trying not to choke on his drink. Y/NN chuckled, her beaming smile disarming him. In her eyes, flecks of gold seemed to dance, entrancing Noah in her stare.

'You look like you need a minute,' she assured him innocently, 'come take a breather with me.'

With a nervous smile, Noah put his drink down on the small table and took her hand.

'I think I know the perfect place,' he said.

Noah lead Y/N through the yard and into the house, sidestepping around people and wandering down a dim hallway. He lead her into his office, closing the door behind them and savouring the quiet.

'Soundproofed,' she observed, 'honestly, it's a nice break from the noise.'

'It can be a bit much,' he agreed.

Y/N smiled warmly, leaning against the desk and crossing her legs at the ankles. 'So, how have you actually been doing?'

'Struggling, if I'm honest.'

'Me too,' she told him. 'I know we said it wasn't that deep-'

'It really was, wasn't it?' Noah admitted, sitting down on the couch across from her.

'Oh yeah...' she trailed off, looking him over. 'And you're not helping, looking at me like that.'

Noah chuckled, 'says you. You walked in here wearing that dress and I almost died. I meant it when I said didn't recognise you for a minute.'

'Really?' She mused, toying with the idea of him being dumbstruck. Y/N had always reminded him of a big cat in that way, she could be sweet and loving, drawing you in with her charm and kindness. But she had a habit of playing with her food, drawing out the game of cat and mouse.

Oh, to be her prey...

'Well, if the dress is that hazardous to your health, maybe you should take it off...' her eyes darkened, watching his expression closely. Noah felt his pants tighten as she stared into his soul.

'Are you sure that's a good idea?' He stammered, wanting desperately to follow her instructions.

'Noah, why do you think I wore it?' She asked, grinning salaciously. Crossing the room slowly, she sized him up, enjoying the sight of him squirming. Y/N lowered herself onto his lap and straddled him, her hands pressing him back onto the couch.

'Y/N...' he breathed, his hands running over the bare skin of her back, the dress leaving little to the imagination. 'Jesus...'

'Folio owed me a favour,' she told him, leaning down tantalisingly close to his face. She could feel his breath on her skin as she ran her hand up his chest. 'I told him I needed to see you, and he was more than happy to help...'

'You told him about us, didn't you?' Noah asked, his voice hitching as she tilted his chin up, her lips almost brushing his.

'Not everything, but he figured most of it out...'

'He knew what we were doing on tour?'

'Turns out we weren't as subtle as we thought,' she said, 'he saw my panties in your bag.'

'And now? Are you going to do that again?'

'I would, but I can't,' she breathed, taking his hand and guiding it between her legs. Noah froze, looking into her eyes as he realised she was bare.

'In that dress, with nothing on...' he stammered, his fingers brushing her skin, 'you're trying to kill me...'

'I might be,' she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and twisting her fingers into his hair. 'Maybe I just want to see how you react. Are you the hunter or the prey?'

Noah moaned into her kiss, her lips sweet with the taste of her chapstick. Between her legs, he felt her warmth. Cautiously, he dipped two fingers into her, sliding them in deep and shivering at the sound of her gasp.

'Oh god,' she sighed against his lips, her muscles flexing as he slowly pumped his fingers inside of her.

'God I missed hearing that sound,' he told her as she rested her forehead against his, his free hand squeezing her thigh.

She grinned, pulling his lips back to hers and kissing him again. He nipped at her lip, chasing her tongue with his and drawing a moan from her. Her sweet sounds only added to his need.

'Y/N,' he whispered, 'we shouldn't, not here, the door doesn't lock...'

'No,' she agreed, her hands reaching down and unbuckling his belt, 'not here.'

She unzipped his pants and slipped his cock out, stroking it eagerly.

'Fuck,' he moaned, her hand running down his length and sending shivers up his spine.

'Don't make a mess on my dress,' she chuckled, thumbing over his tip.

'God, Y/N,' he whispered, sliding his fingers out of her. 'Push the chair in front of the door,' he told her.

With a smirk, she stood and grabbed the office chair, making a point to bend over and give him a show as she jammed the chair under the door handle.

Noah stood, reaching for her, guiding her closer. He could never resist her, the way she looked at him made his heart race and his stomach drop. He knew the answer to her question the moment she asked it. He was the prey. But, having her all to himself, and in that dress, was a dream come true. He would be her prey any day.

He pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips, savouring her taste. He grinned down at her as she giggled mischievously. She was eager.

'Hands on the desk, baby,' he told her, turning her around. She grinned as she did what he asked, feeling him sink to his knees behind her. Her dress was short enough that Noah slipped under it with ease. She flexed her back, granting him easier access to her pussy as he shoved his tongue into her clit.

Her legs spread as she gasped, her arousal dripping on his tongue.

'Fuck, Noah,' she whimpered, her knees trembling as he tasted her. He chuckled against her skin, running circles around her nib and sliding his fingers back into her pussy.

Her breaths became deep and laboured, languishing in his touches, panting while he fingered her. His free hand rested on his cock, stroking himself slowly while she watched between her legs.

'Baby, you're gonna make me come already,' she warned, biting down on her lip as a wave of pleasure rushed through her.

'Then come for me, Y/N,' he commanded, only briefly taking his tongue off of her. He slid his fingers as deep into her pussy as he could, savouring the sound of her moans as she shivered on his tongue.

'Noah, fuck,' she whimpered, her pussy flexing around his fingers. 'Fuck, I'm so close...'

Noah stopped stroking himself, running his hand up her thigh and digging his nails into her skin, knowing she loved it when he scratched her. His name fell from her lips in rivers of pleasure, her muscles tensing.

The moment her orgasm began to ripple through her, Noah stood, his fingers retreating and shoving his cock deep inside of her.

'Come on me, baby girl. I want to feel it,' he purred, reaching around and rubbing her clit with his fingers. He pumped his cock into her in short thrusts, trying to keep himself from coming yet. He was far from done with her.

Her walls closed around him, squeezing hard, her first orgasm running through her body and sucking Noah into her. Her moans were music to his ears, bending over to kiss the back of her neck and fucking her through the fireworks.

As her orgasm subsided, Noah stopped, pulling himself out of her and turning her to face him. Her cheeks were flushed, and a smile graced her lips.

'Good god, I love you,' Noah breathed, taking her face in his hands and pulling her into another onslaught of desperate kisses.

Kissing him back, Y/N reached behind her neck, undoing the clasp of her dress. The fabric fell to the floor around her feet, leaving her standing bare against him in nothing but her golden heels.

Her hand lowered, gripping onto his cock again and slowly stroking, building up a pace that had him melting into her.

'Fuck,' he groaned between kisses, his fingers clawing into her lower back, 'don't stop.'

'Are you gonna come for me, Noah?' She breathed, tightening her grip on him.

'Uh-huh,' he panted.

'Not yet.'

Y/N paused, stepping out of her dress and leading him back to the couch. Noah followed obediently, taking his shirt off as he did.

She sat down, opening her legs and letting Noah position himself between her thighs before he plunged his cock back into her.

'Fuck you feel so good,' he groaned, driving himself in to the hilt. Y/N's eyes rolled back into her head, her back arching off the couch.

'Christ, you're bigger than I remember,' she gasped, her hand reaching for his arm and gripping his bicep.

'Can you handle it?'

'If I can't, I'll die happy.'

Noah grinned, diving down and kissing her desperately, drawing himself out of her slowly before plunging back in. Her soft moans tingled his lips, the taste of her breath intoxicating him.

'If you can't, you'll just have to think of me with every step you take,' he growled, sinking his teeth into the flesh of her breast, grinning as she gasped again.

'I'll have to give you something to remember me by,' Y/N groaned, wrapping her leg around him. Her fingers ran across his back, trailing up into his hair and holding him to her chest as he sucked on her nipple.

He hummed smugly, thrusting hard into her and feeling her muscles clench around him. Slowly he built up a rhythm, feeling his orgasm building as her slick pussy dripped on the couch.

'Jesus, Noah,' she whined, 'I can't hold out much longer.'

'Already?' He asked, smirking down at her.

'Uh-huh,' she nodded, biting down on her lip.

'If you come now, I won't stop,' he warned her teasingly.

'Then make me come and don't fucking stop,' she begged.

He didn't have to be told twice. Noah pulled out of her, laying her down and lifting her legs as he climbed onto the couch. He positioned himself at her entrance again, letting her drape her legs over his shoulders and digging his fingers into her thighs.

His cock slid back into her, earning the sweetest moan he'd ever heard.

'Oh god,' she whimpered, her mouth falling open.

'Come for me, Y/N. I want to see how pretty you look when I own you.'

'Oh god, Noah.'

Her body began to tremble and tense underneath him, her moans becoming stifled cries of pleasure.

'Fuck, you're beautiful,' he purred, watching her body flushing pink. 'Such a good girl, taking all of me.'

'Noah, I can't-' she cried, her orgasm tearing through her. Her muscles spasmed around his cock, but he didn't stop.

'Shit,' Noah groaned, his head falling back. Her slick pussy dripped down his cock, her orgasm running down his front as he drove himself harder into her. 'My turn.'

He picked up his pace, slamming harder into her until she had to cover her mouth to muffle her cries. The soundproofing may have been decent enough, but anyone in that hallway would know exactly how good of a time she was having.

Her eyes squeezed shut, her muscles clenching over and over, drawing Noah's climax closer.

'Fuck,' he groaned, 'baby I'm gonna come.'

She moaned under her hand, nodding her head and begging him to come.

'Inside you?'

'Mhmm.'

Noah's orgasm ripped through his body, a long exhaling moan falling from his mouth as he held himself over her, feeling the thick ribbons filling her.

'Oh fuck,' he breathed, 'oh fuck...'

Y/N's hand left her mouth, her lips hanging open while she gasped for breath.

'For what it's worth' she heaved, 'fuck I love you too.'

Noah grinned, laughing tiredly as her legs slid off of his shoulders. He carefully lowered himself to lie on her chest, pressing soft kisses to whatever part of her he could reach.

'I missed you.'

'I missed you too,' she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. 'And I have a feeling I'm going to miss being able to walk.'

'That good, huh?'

'Noah, baby, you got me three times. I'm truly fucked, in every sense of the word.'

He huffed an exhausted laugh, feeling her pussy spasm again. 'Only three? God, I'll have to try harder.'

'Any harder and I'll be dead.'

'But what a hell of a way to die...'

[zweiginator]

thinking about actor!patrick who's such a raw and natural talent but also the infamous fuckboy of hollywood. he's in a scandal every few months (leaked sex tapes, wild nights out), deuxmoi's favorite client and he's 99 % fucked half of his colleagues. he's irresponsible but charming and noone can resist him not even the goody two shoes hollywood newbie

like you get cast in a movie with him, you're in your early 20s and he's in his early 30s so it's not a crazy age gap or anything, but it's enough to raise eyebrows. because patrick is a bonafide pornstar in hollywood; he's had three leaked sex tapes, and plenty of cheating scandals (he's always the homewrecker).

so patrick gets cast in a new movie, some high-budget action/romance/mob ties film. they want him to be the main lead. patrick sells tickets. his body and face sells tickets.

but then he sees your name. he's never heard of you. has his manager look you up and when she sends your bio to him, you have the sweetest fucking face he's ever seen. you're gorgeous and not even 25. his manager can see the fucking scandal plastered all over TMZ before he has even met you.

you're nervous to meet patrick too. this is your first movie, and you even getting an audition for the main female lead almost made you piss your pants. so when you got the call that the role was yours--you were fucking ecstatic. that bliss was soon replaced with lingering anxiety when you found out you would be acting alongside patrick zweig.

and you told yourself, after committing to acting, you wouldn't become a hot-shot celebrity. you wouldn't change and become pretentious and hot-headed and high-maintenance. you were raised too well to throw it all away for some instant gratification and a hollywood party.

you wouldn't abandon your morals. and you would be professional.

but one of the first scenes you film is a kissing scene. just to vet the chemistry. they were sure it would be great, this was patrick fucking zweig after all. but you're nervous. you had pecked lips for high school plays and local theater productions, but nothing like this.

because patrick's shirt comes off and he's hovering over you. and he lifts your own shirt up with his teeth like this is a fucking porno. you remember it's all in the script, but god, he's looking at you like this is real life. you guess it is. patrick leans in; you smell his cologne and the tiniest hint of sweat from the hot day. and when he finally slams his mouth onto yours, he feels laced with something. because then your hands are in his hair and you swear he's grinding his cock into you. you arch into him and he's leaning into you and you're grabbing onto the wrist that holds your jaw in place for him. his mouth is opened so wide it feels like he wants to give you more and more of himself until he physically can't anymore.

"CUT!"

the crew hollers and whistles and patrick wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"well, I think that was a winner!" the director yells.

"good job. you're gonna be a fucking problem." patrick says, adjusting himself in his jeans.

you tell yourself it was just in the script. patrick's comment makes you flush.

but three nights later, you're in patrick's car tucked away in his private driveway, his fingers working your cunt open like they were made for it. and as your head tilts back and patrick latches his mouth onto your throat and whispers good fucking girl

you see a hot white flash of light.

Hollywood's Biggest Liability and its Hottest New It-Girl Caught Hot-and-Bothered in Blacked-Out SUV

your reputation is fucked. but, any publicity is good publicity.

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 7 - Ozzie's

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)

It's a date! (But is it really?)

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 8 | pt. 9

Word count: 5,212

Warnings: you ask blitz to not be a dick and what does he do? yeah he's a bit of a dick. a big reveal abt reader's past (will be explored more in depth later), terrible just awful communication skills.

Alright, however much blood you got on yourself, business today was kind of pretty fucking awesome. 

The four of you walk through the portal, all still riding high on the adrenaline rush the day’s kills provided you. Blitzø’s the first to set foot back into the office, throwing his head back and brandishing his new axe around. “Woo! That was a fuckton of lumberjacks!” 

There were eleven of them, to be exact.

Moxxie walks in right after him, looking a little too excited as he held up a chainsaw, still on and rumbling.

Millie’s next, covered in more blood than anyone else, as usual- clearly in a great mood, going as far as biting the wood handle of the axe she was holding in half.  “Ahh! I’m still so jazzed up!” 

You walk in last, examining the huge new knife you got for yourself, pleased. Nothing like putting down five huge-ass dudes on your own and getting a cool new knife for your collection to get you in a good mood. 

Moxxie discards the chainsaw into the portal, and Loona closes it off. “Well, you better stay jazzed up, babe,” he tells Millie, shooting finger guns at her. “‘Cause guess where I’m taking you tonight?”

“Don’t you dare finish a filthy pun in my presence, Moxxie! Besides, drinks are on me tonight! Let’s hit up the new drive down the street,” Blitzø suggests, excited.

Moxxie looks down to the floor, then back at him. “Actually, sir, it’s our one year marriage anniversary, so I’m taking Millie to Ozzie’s, all the way down in the Lust Ring!” He announces, proud of himself. 

Millie’s eyes immediately light up, and she gasps in excitement at the revelation. “Ozzie’s? No way! That place is always booked.”

Yeah, you should know that. In fact, you already knew Moxxie was taking her there, too- he’d approached you the previous week, asking if you could do him a ‘big favor’. You didn’t know what to expect of this supposed big favor, but when he asked if you could maybe call Ozzie personally and arrange him and Millie a reservation for their anniversary, you let out a laugh.

“Oh, that’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Of course I can, Mox, are you kidding?”

“That’s awesome!” He’d hugged you tight. “Thank you so, so much, y/n!”

You smile, pleased with Millie’s reaction. You knew she’d love it. Moxxie had mentioned he’d tell her you’d helped, but you’d told him not to, leaving all the credit for him. He deserved it. 

He sends you a thankful glance when Millie squeaks out his name and quite literally jumps on him, kissing him all over. The scene is so sweet it’s almost gross. 

“Ugh, can you two not?” Blitzø complains.

Moxxie’s out of breath when he pulls away, looking a little high-headed after the distraction. “I’m sorry, sir. Maybe another time!” 

“Oh, it’s fine! I- I can come with the two of  you, help you celebrate your boring-as-fuck-monogamy.”

There’s no way he just seriously suggested that. “What? Dude. No.”

Moxxie matches your tone. “Yeah. No.The reservation is for us.”

“Uh-huh,” Blitzø agrees, nodding, as if that changes absolutely nothing to him. Did he genuinely not get the hint or is he playing dumb at this point?

“Just. Us. Millie and I.”

“Uh-huh,” he repeats, still nodding as if he doesn’t see the issue. 

“Without you there. Explicitly without you there.”

He completely disregards Moxxie’s words. “I’ll wear something nice. It’s a big deal after all.” Ah, got it. Playing dumb.

Moxxie’s left eye twitches at his attitude, but, in turn, he just turns around, walking towards the door. “You want a ride or not?” He turns back around to ask you, and you try to shoot Moxxie a reassuring look that’s meant to say you’ll get some sense through his skull before you follow him out. “See you lovebugs later!”

You start scolding him as soon as you get to the parking lot. “Could you be any more inconvenient?”

“The fuck do you mean?” 

“The fuck do I mean? They don’t want you there, Blitz. It’s their anniversary. Whatever fantasies you have about them don’t make you a part of their relationship, you realize that, don’t you?” The two of you get to the van, and he unlocks the doors so you can get in before he says anything in return.

“Fuck you, I made that couple happen, bitch. I deserve to be part of this ‘anniversary dinner’. And you do too, I know there ain’t no way Moxxie got that reservation without your help.”

“Yeah and that one-hundred percent does not give me any right to crash their date. Don’t you fucking go to Ozzie’s tonight. You hear me?”

“Ohh keep talking dirty.”

“I’m so serious right now.”

Blitzø scoffs at your threatening tone. “Don’t remember you being the boss of me.”

“I am telling you, as a friend, that you’re being inconvenient. They’ll get pissed at you and they’ll be right to.”

“Yeah well I don’t fucking care.”

“Come on Blitz, just give them a break. I’ll even go with you to that place you wanted to go!” You try. 

“Really?”

“Yeah! It’ll be fun. And very far from Millie and Mox so they can enjoy their night out alone,” you make sure to point out.

“Fine. Whatever.”

Blitzø drops you off at your apartment so you can get ready with a yell of ‘be quick we don’t have all night!’ as he drives off, going home himself to shower and change too before he’s back to pick you up. 

“If I didn’t know you I’d think you’re dressing to impress me here,” he raises an eyebrow suggestively as he gives you a very exaggerated once-over.

“Yeah in your dreams maybe,” you retort immediately, used to his comments by now, as you get into the passenger seat.

“Oh my dreams about you don’t have any clothes involved.”

“Gross.”

He shrugs. “Ready?”

“Sure. What’s the place called again?”

“Uuuuhh, don’t worry about it. We’re going somewhere new.”

You notice he’s extra chatty during the ride, talking your ear off and turning up the radio so the two of you can sing the songs out. You realize why he was going out of his way to distract you when suddenly you take a look out the window and recognize the neighborhood. 

He’s taken you to the Lust Ring, and it’s not very hard to imagine why when he parks just a couple blocks from Ozzie’s. You feel disappointed, and honestly a little naive, to have thought he’d take you to a fun night out instead of just doing whatever he wanted to do. 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? This is the one place I said, repeatedly, that we couldn’t go!”

“Oh, boo-hoo, so I’m taking you out on a nice fucking fancy-ass dinner, what a terrible fucking thing to do!”

“Except you’re not taking me out, you just don’t know your fucking boundaries and you wanna spend your sorry-ass night spying on Millie and Moxxie.”

“Eh. Potato, potato.”

“You pronounced it the exact same.”

He shrugs. 

“We’re leaving.”

“What? No!”

“Well I am. And you don’t have a reservation,” you point out, trying to make it clear he’s not getting in. Did he only bring you out with him in the hopes you’d manage to get him a table by pulling some strings? “And you can’t get in without a partner so sucks to be you.”

“Well I’m not taking you anywhere,” he crosses his arms over his chest, matter-of-factly.

“‘Course you’re fucking not. We were supposed to just have some fun tonight. I can’t believe this. You’re a fucking prick, you know that, right?” You let your frustration spill out in your words, and you pull your phone out to see if you can find a ride on Reaper, not in the mood to be out anymore and desperately wanting to get back home at this point.

“Yeah, yeah, and you’re a whiny bitch but I don’t keep telling you that, do I?”

You send him a dirty look, sitting on the curb as you wait for the app to find you a car, and he fucks off to the alleyway behind you to do Satan-knows-what. After a while, still down on your luck with the ride, you’re startled when a portal is opened only a couple feet in front of you, and it takes you a couple seconds to register the fact that it’s Stolas who walks out of it. 

“Stolas?”

“Stolaaass!” Blitzø calls out, as if already expecting him. Was he already expecting him? Is this what you thought it was- you telling him you wouldn’t get into Ozzie’s with him and him just calling Stolas up, simple as ever, to fulfill that role instead?

“What are you doing here?” You ask the prince, not really meaning to sound rude, but it comes out demanding of an answer regardless, and he tilts his head to the side, as if confused by the fact that you apparently didn’t know he’d be coming.

“Wow. Outfit’s a little overkill, don’t ya think?” Blitzø tells him, and you resist the urge to pettily flick at his forehead at the lack of common sense. Why the fuck would you say that?

Stolas looks down to the floor, embarrassed. “Did you… not know I was coming, y/n?”

“No. Did Blitzø call you here?”

“Yes, I- I assumed-” He looks at Blitzø, now referring to the comment about his outfit as well. “I wanted to look nicer for you. This is our first real date, after all… right?” he explains himself, motioning between the three of you.

“A date?” You whip your head around to look at Blitzø. That’s what he told Stolas this was?

“Surprise! We’re having a date!”

“Blitz I swear to Satan, this is so out of pocket-”

“Is something not right, y/n?” Stolas asks, and it completely disarms you. He seems so genuinely excited about this ‘date’that you can’t get yourself to ruin it for him by revealing what only you knew- that what he thought was a date was just a selfish ploy for Blitzø to spy on Millie and Moxxie for whatever fucking reason he had.

And so you find yourself reassuring him. “No. Not at all.”

“Ya still wanna leave now?” Blitzø whispers, all cocky and annoying and- fuck, he can just be so stubborn it’s insufferable sometimes.You grit your teeth but say nothing in return, and the three of you walk up to the stairs by the entrance. 

You don’t recognize the incubus who greets you. Must be new. He eyes the three of you up and down, as if trying to gather how the fuck this whole thing happened. “Y’all three together?” He asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” Stolas tells him. 

“Alrightt, that’s fucking hot! Y’all got a reservation?”

Before you can even think of telling him to talk to Ozzie, Stolas speaks up again. “Do we need one?” He asks, glaring at the man, as if challenging him to say no. The man gulps before opening a smile and bowing at him. “No! Uh, shit, my apologies, Your Highness. Right this way.”

You feel the ever-growing urge to facepalm as hard as you possibly can the very second you enter the lounge, because Blitzø immediately starts sneaking around the place like he’s a character in some low-budget spy movie. 

Stolas looks around the place, mesmerized. “Oh, my! Oh, no! No, but also yes!” He’s been there countless times (you should know), but only then do you realize he’s never stayed or even visited for matters that weren’t aligned with his royal duties. He’s stupid rich and he’s never dined at Ozzie’s?

Oh.

He’s only ever been with that wife of his before you and Blitzø happened. And his own marriage was merely another one of his royal duties. And- oh, fuck. Was this his first ever date? Shit.

You pull Blitzø down to whisper to him as you walk to your table. “Blitz, you’re gonna be fucking nice tonight, alright?”

“Hey I’m always a fucking delight!”

“I’m serious. I think he’s never been on a date before.”

“What? That’s not true.”

“Look he’s clearly excited to be here, please don’t be a dick, okay?”

“You calling me that for free?”

“The outfit comment was not cool.”

“Oh you guys are so fucking sensitive.” He dismisses your words, sitting down on the chair that had been arranged for him, a couple books placed on the seat so his height could be aligned properly with the round table’s.

Stolas is beaming as soon as the three of you sit down. “Oh, how romantic is this? I have never stayed here longer than I needed to. It’s so charming!”

“Yeah, it sounded like- I just thought we’d have a blast here,” Blitzø tells him, barely present in the conversation as he pulls out his goddamn fucking binoculars out of his pocket, surely trying to find out where Millie and Moxxie were seated. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s lovely, right? And it’s where I met both of you! Isn’t that so nice, Blitz?” You kick him under the table, and he shoots you a dirty glare before turning back around. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a real romantic- oh gotcha!”

Stolas tilts his head to the side, trying to figure out what is happening. “Uh, Blitz, what are you looking at?”

“I’m looking at nothing. How about that?” So much for not being a dick. Luckily, a server approaches the table just then, averting Stolas’ attention from Blitzø. 

“So, can I get you three off?” She takes a long pause before ‘correcting’ herself. “I mean, start you three off with some drinks?” It actually was normal taught practice for the ‘slip-ups’ to happen- you should know, you trained countless servers during your time there. It still makes Stolas blush out of embarrassment, caught off-guard by it.

“Yes! Um, perhaps some… wine, to share?” He glances at you, and you smile at him, nodding in agreement. “Blitz?” 

“What?”

“Would you like some wine, too?”

“Yeah why not?”

“Do you prefer red or white? Or perhaps some champagne?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Blitzø replies dryly, very clearly barely paying any attention to what was said to him as he didn’t even bother turning around to face the two of you.

“Uh- I- uh-”

“What if we-” you begin, trying to help Stolas not freak out.

“Perhaps we should order all three! Ha! Why not?” He suggests, and it sort of sounds like he is sort of freaking out, but you don’t argue. 

“Yeah that sounds good.”

“So! How was the day at I.M.P.?” Stolas tries. 

“Oh? Uh, it was good, I guess. We killed a bunch of weirdos. She can tell you about it,” Blitzø tells him, this time sparing one single glance back and pointing vaguely at you. How thoughtful.

“Oh?”

“Uh, business was pretty good today. What he meant with killing a bunch of weirdos is that we had more targets than usual, which is good. But I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about us killing people, right?”

“No! It sounds like fun!” It definitely didn’t look like he thought so, but rather that he was desperately trying to build a connection. One that Blitzø currently didn’t seem to give a flying fuck about. “Uh, how did you kill them?”

The question at least seemed to pique Blitzø’s interest, as he actually turns around and puts down the binoculars to answer it. “How? I mean, there was a lot of ‘em, so… bullets?”

“Right! Right. So… what made you decide to plan a date after all this time?”

Shit. “Uuuuuuhhh…” Blitzø scratches the back of his head, trying to think of what to say. Fuck, don’t be a dick, don’t be a dick, don’t-

Thankfully, for all of you, you’re sure, he doesn’t get to finish whatever he was about to try and say, as the lights dim and Fizzarolli’s voice sounds through the lounge. “Ladies and gentlemen! I see some sexy faces around here tonight.” He descends down the pole right in the middle of the stage, and you notice his greeting routine sounds different. It’s a weird feeling to see so much change since you left. “Welcome, welcome to Ozzie’s, Lust Ring’s number one place for all kinds of sick, twisted fantasies, put on display for all you sleaze and sleazettes, the gem joint of Asmodeus himself. Come on, give him some love!”

“Did he just say Asmodeus?” Stolas questions out loud.

“He likes to make an appearance sometimes,” you explain, but, internally, it made you nervous. You did not need Ozzie to see you on a date tonight.

Stolas nods, and Blitzø lets out a groan. “Oh, no fucking way. Not him!” He hides his face behind the menu that had been placed in front of him, and he’s still never told you what happened between him and Fizz, but that has to be a bit dramatic, doesn't it? 

“I am the one and only Fizzarolli.” The clown continues, pulling up a Loo Loo Land flyer with his robotic version, ‘Robo Fizz’, on it. “Some of you might recognize this dashing clown face from my numerous replicas across the rings of Hell, gloriously designed by the big man himself, and uh,” he traces his hand up his own robotic arm in a rather suggestive way, “ribbed for your pleasure tonight. We have a great lineup for you tonight: Verosika Mayday, Wet Dream, and The Squirters!” 

The lights shine on them, and suddenly you understand Blitzø’s need to hide. “Shit, she’s here?”

“Do you know her?” Stolas asks you, and you don’t reply.

“But as everyone’s warming up, I got a funny one for y’all!” Fizz keeps on. “Did any of you hear about the batshittery that happened at Loo Loo Land?” He laughs. “Oh yeah, I’ll tell you what, I’d sure love to shake the hand of the crazy son of a bitch who decided to burn down that off-brand shithole, and then slap a fat subpoena in it, ‘cause I’m very much looking to sue. That robo-me made us more money entertaining those kids than the ones we sell to get you freaks off, if you know what I mean.”

Someone in the lounge stands up from their seat, waving their hand around. “I know! I know what you mean! I have four of ‘em!” They announce, loud and proud, and you realize their date is one of those. It’s freaky enough for you to know security’s sure to keep an eye on them for the rest of the night to make sure they stay far away from Fizzarolli.

“So! Without wasting more time! Our little opening act is a fresh one, coming at us from a little imp from the Wrath Ring. Give it up for… Moxxie! With no creative stage name whatsoever.”

Moxxie stands up, taking his guitar with him, and kisses Millie before taking Fizzarolli’s place on the stage. That he hadn’t told you about, and knowing it was probably because he wanted to keep that moment to themselves makes you feel shitty about being there. He taps the mic before speaking. “Hello, everyone. Um. Hi. Thank you for letting me be here. It’s an honor to play.” Someone yells at him to hurry up, and he looks a bit nervous at it before he keeps on. “This song is for my beautiful wife, a surprise for our first anniversary. I love you, Millie.”

I love you More than the brimstone loves the fire, more than beelze loves her bub, more than a maggot loves gangrenous stubs You make my spirit sing Yeah, you make me glad I live in Hell Our love is a story sweet to tell Yeah, you cast a special Satanic spell over my heart Love is a journey we decided to start Yeah, I hope we’ll never, ever be apart I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I-

Shit, Moxxie. If he had told you about this, you would have warned him Ozzie’s was not the right place to perform a love song. But he didn’t, and so… “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,”, Ozzie and Fizz sang along, making their way onto the stage, very clearly mocking and laughing at him. 

Who’s singing love songs in my lustful lounge?

So Ozzie was performing tonight, huh? Must be in a good mood. 

Ozzie’s ain’t the place for sentimental sounds!

What’d you expect from a proprietor like us?

Your demon host, Asmodeus, the embodiment of lust…

Give me a thrust! Show me some lust! From the groin to the bust, in desire we trust, in the House of Asmodeus

Trumpet! Gah!

Little imp, you came here to sing your serenade Perform your feelings in the velvety stage Well, we got a saying that’s popular in these parts

‘Only little bitches strum the strings of their hearts’

You wanna hang around this lustful town? Ditch the lovey-dovey before we knock you around

How hypocritical.

In here we sing about wants and desires

Depravity, savagery, loins hotter than fire!

So give me a thrust Show me some lust From the groin to the bust Little imp, you just must In the House of Asmodeus Come on, sing us a song! Make sure the subject is getting it on Make it graphic and tactfully long

Make sure to rhyme ‘thong’ and ‘schlong’!

Go ahead, the mic’s on!

After a good while of tossing Moxxie around as Ozzie and Fizz sang, they set the mic in front of him once again. He takes a deep breath before strumming his guitar and giving it a try.

I want to 

Yeah, what do you want? Butt stuff? Piss play? Bondage?

Make gentle love to you

Oh, Moxxie. 

Ugh, what a limp-dick imp, you’re really killing the vibe Get a load of this dweeb and his unsatisfied bride!

Blitzø stands up from his seat. Why the fuck is he standing up from his seat? 

“Hey now, I’ve watched those two pork many times, and, honestly, they make missionary look relatively exciting!” 

You should have known he’d feel the need to try and defend them in some way, but this was really, really not a good idea. If you didn’t want any of your friends to see you there up until then, now he’d managed to basically call out for their attention. 

“What? Blitz!” Moxxie yells out, as if he can’t believe he’s actually there. His eyes find you too, and he furrows his eyebrows together. You feel ashamed that you ended up there, and even more so that his moment was getting ruined in so many ways.

Fizzarolli opens a grin. “Is that Blitzo? So you’re showing your face?”

Hey, everybody!  This guy’s a total disgrace Some nerve you got to comment on a relationship Last I checked, your love life is a pile of shit!

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Verosika stands up, the lights immediately panning to her, and she joins in. 

Oh, Blitzo? I used to date him 

“Oh, Verosika, you’re here.”

I’d stroke him, I’d fellate him But when it was my turn He did no reciprocating  A selfish imp in the sheets  And just as bad on the streets A reckless, heart-breaking freak

You silently pray to Lucifer for her to not see you, or just not mention you, or-

“Oh am I interrupting your date, y/n?” She spits out. 

I should have known it I should have guessed you’re not above it  How long left till they’re abandoned? Do they know they’re not your standard?  The prince would better watch out Just get too close and he’s out Give it some time, she’ll flake out

You look down at your hands over your lap and you wish the ground would just swallow you whole. Stolas looks between you and Blitzø, trying to assimilate what just happened. “Did the both of you date her?”

Who’s that at your table? Is your date a demon prince? Stolas, is that you?

Are you sleeping with an imp?

My dark lord, how the mighty do fall! You used to have a smoking wife, a kid, you had it all! I hope you didn’t give it up so they could help you get it up…

Stolas hides his face behind the menu, not unlike Blitzø had done earlier, like he’s… embarrassed to be called out for being on a date with the two of you. It feels like a gut punch, to come down to the realization that, yeah, of course he’s embarrassed, he’s a prince, for Lucifer’s sake. 

Your eyes feel like they’re burning, and you have to hold back tears from streaming down your face. 

You sold your life for a thrust! Now that’s the spirit of Lust Grab your groin or a bust You better get your hair mussed Pretend you don’t see that crust Hump ‘till your junk turns to dust In the House of Asmode-

You stand up in preoccupation for Millie when she simply knocks Fizzarolli down to the ground. 

“Hey!” Ozzie exclaims, helping Fizz get up. You see the rage in his eyes- Millie was crazy to have done that- and he looks back at you. The worry in your expression and the furious shaking of your head, wordlessly asking him not to do anything, are accepted, and Millie is left unharmed purely for the sake of you. 

“I think you were tryin’ to sing somethin’ for me, Mox.”

“Yeah, I was.”

I love us I love us just the way we are Don’t have to pretend to like to do things we don’t I’ve always got you around to laugh at my stupid jokes I’ll never take you for granted I’ll always give you my best If you can offer the same thing we’ll handle the rest ‘Cause I love you ‘Cause I love you

Blitzø looks undoubtedly hurt and undeniably uncomfortable and, shit, it was very much warranted. You felt the exact same, ashamed of getting called out by Verosika, hurt by having Ozzie of all people put you all on blast, feeling stupid for feeling hurt by Stolas so very clearly looking embarrassed to be seen on a date with you. 

Stolas looks worried, but doesn’t get to form any words before Blitzø speaks up. “You know what, this was a mistake, alright? Let’s just- let’s just leave.”

For the first time the entire night, you agree with him. “Yeah. We should go.”

“Oh. Right. Of course,” Stolas agrees, and the three of you get up, making your way to the exit. You didn’t even get to try the fucking wine. 

You glance back at Ozzie on your way out, and he raises his eyebrows in concern when his eyes meet yours. You know that face. He only just realized he hurt you with what he did, and you know he’ll let you be for the rest of the night, but you’re sure to expect him to show up at your place tomorrow to apologize. 

You also take a glance at Millie and Moxxie, still on the stage, and mouth an ‘I’m sorry’ to them before exiting the place. 

The drive to Stolas’ place is quiet and uncomfortable and it makes holding yourself back from crying much, much harder. You’re not even sure why Stolas is getting a ride, as he’d portaled himself to Ozzie’s and could very much just portal himself back home, but it’s not like you’re gonna bring that up. 

Much too tall for the I.M.P. van, he’s crammed in the backseat, and struggles a little before managing to get himself out of the car. 

Before leaving, he leans on the passenger’s window, facing you and Blitzø and nervously trying to get himself to say something. “Thank you, for… inviting me out tonight.” Blitzø turns away to face his other side and you keep your eyes glued to the windshield, both unable to look him in the eye. “Despite everything that’s happened, I… I enjoyed spending time with you.”

“Yeah,” is all Blitzø says, and you simply nod.

“You know, I have some more wine in the house. Octavia’s with her mother this weekend, so we could…”

“I’m not fucking you tonight, okay? I’m really just… I’m really not in the mood, alright?” He nudges you with his elbow, and you swear you see him wipe down a tear. “If you wanna take this one go ahead.”

“I-”

“We could just… talk. Or… watch a movie? Or maybe… cuddle?”

For the first time since leaving Ozzie’s, you manage to properly look at Stolas. Was he serious? Would he genuinely be okay with that after what just happened? Could he genuinely be okay to be in your presence without sex involved? 

“Stolas, don’t act like what we have is anything but you wanting us to fuck you, okay?” 

“Blitz-“

“No. You too. Are you actually falling for the shit he says? Fucking watch a movie and cuddle? You know exactly what he wants from us. He just says what he thinks he has to to get in our pants. I thought you weren’t that stupid.” 

You scoff at his words and get out of his car silently, as you can’t believe he just said that to you.

“What, you’re not coming?” 

Tears are threatening to roll down your face again, and it makes you angry. “Do you ever think about anyone’s feelings other than your own?”

“Fine. Stay with him then. Congrats to the fucking happy couple!” 

With that lovely yell, he takes off. 

“Are you alright, dearest? You can come in if you-“ Stolas reaches for you, but you can’t help but back off, not allowing him to touch you. He lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Could you just send me back to Ozzie’s? Looks like I don’t have a ride anymore.”

“Are you sure you want to be there? What he did was-“

“I- I’ll talk to him. They won’t poke fun at you because of us again, Your Highness. No need to worry.”

He grimaces at your words, and you’re fully aware why.  You haven’t called him that in a long time. In fact, you realize you did it to be cruel. To hurt him. 

To hurt yourself into remembering your place in relation to him. You almost want him to argue with you. To understand what you meant and tell you he doesn’t look down on you, that he doesn’t feel ashamed. 

And yet he only accepts what you say with a nod.  “Good night, y/n.” 

Maybe Blitzø isn’t wrong.

You nod once instead of saying it back- you don't trust your voice to come out.

He seems to want to say something else but refrains from doing so, only waving his hand to cast the spell you requested him to. In a mere second you materialize back at Ozzie’s, but not in the lounge, thankfully- in the waiting room in front of his office. 

You break down crying the very moment you gain bearing of your surroundings. 

A/N sorry for the shitty lyrics i added to house of asmodeus it was sadly necessary lmaoooo

[deliciousangelfestival]

Unexpected Trip

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Some people think you're too good for Bucky, who they see as just a nobody. Little do they know the backstory of both of you from 5 years ago.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you!" The cheery chorus filled the sunny garden as friends and neighbors gathered around. Balloons bobbed in the breeze, and the table was adorned with a colorful array of treats.

Your son, Tommy, was wide-eyed with wonder at the commotion, his little hands clapping together with glee.

You knew he was too young to remember this day, but the joy on his face was enough to make every moment worthwhile.

Bucky, your husband, stood beside you, a proud smile on his face as he watched Tommy's excitement. "Can you believe he's already three?" you said, leaning over to Bucky, who nodded, his eyes never leaving Tommy.

"I know, it feels like just yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital," Bucky replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Time really does fly."

As Tommy blew out the candles on his cake, the guests cheered, and Bucky wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm so glad we decided to have this party," he said, planting a kiss on your cheek. "Even if he won't remember it, we will."

You smiled, feeling grateful for this moment of togetherness. "Me too," you said, watching Tommy's delighted face. "Here's to many more birthdays filled with love and laughter."

As you, Bucky, and Tommy were lost in your own world of celebration, the neighbors, known gossips of the neighborhood, couldn't resist whispering among themselves.

"I heard she got promoted to become the Director," murmured Mrs. Jenkins, a woman known for her keen interest in everyone's business, her eyes darting over to where you and Bucky stood.

Mrs. Thompson, a perpetually nosy neighbor, chimed in eagerly, "Wow, I knew she's a career woman since the first time I met her." Her voice carried a tone of admiration mixed with a hint of envy.

Standing nearby, Mr. Wilson, a retired gentleman with a penchant for spreading juicy tidbits, leaned in conspiratorially. "And she has a perfect house-husband," he added with a knowing nod in Bucky's direction.

The fourth neighbor, Mrs. Patel, a woman with a sharp tongue and a love for scandal, couldn't resist joining the conversation. "I don't want to sound rude, but she's too good for Bucky. He's just a nobody," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Mrs. Jenkins leaned closer, her eyes widening with exaggerated shock. "And guess what?" she whispered, drawing the others in.

"What?" Mrs. Thompson asked eagerly, her curiosity piqued.

"I heard a rumor that Bucky used to be a driver, like a courier," Mrs. Jenkins revealed,l.

Mrs. Patel gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest. "Omg! And he met Y/N? He hit the jackpot!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as if she had just uncovered a scandalous secret.

Mr. Wilson chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I think in Bucky's previous life he saved a universe," he joked, adding to the whimsical nature of the gossip.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky remained oblivious to the whispers behind you, too engrossed in Tommy's joyous laughter as he played with his friends. Bucky had his arm around you, pulling you closer, unaware of the drama unfolding in the background.

Little did the gossiping neighbors know, they were 10% right, at least when it came to the part about Bucky saving someone.

You see, Bucky wasn't just a nobody. He wasn't just a regular driver. To be precise, it all goes back to five years ago.

5 Years Ago

You had just arrived in Russia, alone and shivering from the cold. This wasn't a holiday trip; it was for business.

Unfortunately, your luck had run out, and you were the chosen one sent by your less-than-friendly manager, who knew the bid was a long shot. You were the scapegoat.

It wasn't until you were on the plane, reading the documents, that the truth hit you like a ton of bricks.

Shaking with cold, you reached for your phone and dialed your colleague. "Is there someone to pick me up at the airport?"

"You've arrived? I almost forgot. I suppose someone should be waiting for you. Check to see if there's a sign with your name at the exit gate," came the reply before the call abruptly ended.

"Huh?" You couldn't believe it. The company had tossed you out like yesterday's news, leaving you stranded like a lost child in a foreign country.

"I swear, if I had a lot of money, I'd buy the company's shares and fire every single one of them," you grumbled to yourself, dragging your small suitcase behind you toward the exit gate, uncertain of what awaited you.

As you approached, you spotted a person holding a sign. You gathered your resolve and approached them, saying, "Hi, it's me."

You finally took a good look at the person holding your name sign. He was pretty tall and muscular for a driver, more suited to be a bodyguard.

With a swift motion, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into a nearby trash can. When you finally caught a glimpse of his face, you couldn't help but think, "Damn, he's fine."

He pointed towards your suitcase. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice firm but not unkind.

"Huh? Oh yeah," you replied, momentarily distracted by his good looks.

"Follow me," he said simply, then turned and walked ahead.

You hurried to catch up, feeling a mixture of confusion and intrigue. This wasn't the welcome you expected, but you followed him nonetheless.

After a quick walk, the two of you stopped in front of a black BMW. The design of the car felt straight out of the '90s.

"Get in," Bucky said, opening the backseat door.

You complied, noticing that your driver seemed to be a man of few words. "Um, what's your name?" you asked as you fastened your seatbelt.

"Bucky. Bucky Barnes," he replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he started the car.

Then, glancing at the rearview mirror, he added, "Always watch your back."

"What? What do you mean?" you asked, a hint of unease creeping into your voice.

Bucky shifted gears and increased the speed. "Just in case," he said cryptically, his focus on the road ahead.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of mystery surrounding Bucky. As the car smoothly glided through the streets of Russia, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of business you had genuinely stepped into.

Bucky glanced at you through the rearview mirror as the car continued its swift journey through the city. "You came here without knowing anything?" he asked, his voice serious.

"I knew that other countries also put a bid on this project," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing unease.

"True," Bucky acknowledged. "Do you know what kind of representatives the other countries sent here too?"

Your voice turned into a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the engine. "Not like me?"

Bucky's eyes flicked to the side mirror, noticing a few cars trailing behind them. " And they've arrived too," he confirmed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly.

Feeling a surge of panic, you turned around to look out the rear window. "Oh, shit," you muttered under your breath.

There was a group of cars following behind you both, and their windows opened. Someone appeared with a gun pointed at your car.

Bucky shifted gears again, the car picking up speed. "Don't bite your tongue, Miss Y/N," he said calmly, his focus unwavering on the road ahead.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you realized the gravity of the situation. The cars following them meant trouble; you were right in the middle. Gripping the door handle tightly, you braced for whatever was to come, grateful that Bucky knew what he was doing.

The chase was like something out of a movie, but the fear gripping your heart was all too real. The car Bucky drove was bulletproof, a small comfort in the chaos unfolding around you.

"KYAAA!"

Yet, despite the safety of the car, you couldn't shake off the primal fear that clawed at your chest. This was the first time you had ever found yourself in such a dangerous situation, and the adrenaline surged through your veins.

"Oh god, oh god," you muttered, your voice filled with panic as you clutched onto the door handle, your knuckles turning white.

Bucky, on the other hand, remained surprisingly calm. His hands moved expertly over the steering wheel, navigating through the narrow streets with precision. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos outside.

You could hear the sound of gunfire, bullets ricocheting off the car's armored exterior. The world outside seemed to blur as Bucky weaved in and out of traffic, the pursuing cars hot on your tail.

"What do we do? What do we do?" you pleaded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Bucky glanced at you briefly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Trust me," he said cryptically, before reaching for a button on the dashboard.

With a click, the back of the car transformed. Panels shifted, revealing an array of weapons hidden within. Your eyes widened in disbelief as a gun turret emerged from the rear of the car, whirring to life.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, both terrified and amazed at the same time.

Bucky didn't hesitate. He maneuvered the car expertly, aligning the gun turret with the pursuing vehicles. With a press of a button, the turret unleashed a barrage of bullets, hitting the cars behind you with precision.

The sound of metal tearing and tires screeching filled the air as the pursuing vehicles swerved and crashed, their drivers no match for the firepower of Bucky's car.

You watched in awe and horror as the scene unfolded behind you, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "I can't believe this," you whispered, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Bucky remained focused, his eyes scanning the road ahead. "Welcome to the world of high-stakes business, Miss Y/N," he said, his voice calm despite the chaos around you.

As you both sped away from the gunfire, the intensity of the moment left you breathless. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made you wonder how Bucky could remain so calm, and how his car seemed to be designed for situations like this.

"Bucky, are you really just a driver?" you asked, your voice filled with astonishment and curiosity.

Bucky, focused on the road ahead, replied without missing a beat. "Most of the time I work as a getaway driver."

"What?!" you exclaimed, unable to hide your surprise.

Bucky glanced at you briefly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I have a few skills up my sleeve," he said cryptically, his eyes returning to the road as he expertly navigated the streets.

You panted heavily, trying to catch your breath after the intense chase. "Huff... huff... I have to win this damn bid. I almost lost my life. If I win, I will demand a promotion, and for you too, Bucky."

Bucky chuckled. "Thank you," he replied, his laughter mixing with relief as the moment's tension dissipated

Bucky glanced at you, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. "You know, Miss Y/N, I'm impressed," he said, his voice tinged with respect.

You looked at him, surprised by his words. "Impressed? Why?"

"Because even though you were scared out of your mind back there," Bucky explained, gesturing vaguely to the chaos that had just unfolded, "you still have the drive to win this bid. That takes courage."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, touched by his words. "Well, I don't want to go through all of this for nothing," you replied, a hint of determination in your voice.

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. "I understand. And I believe you have what it takes to succeed."

As the car continued on its journey, you felt a newfound sense of confidence swelling within you. Despite the danger and the unexpected twists, you were determined to make this business trip count. With Bucky by your side, you felt like you could take on anything that came your way.

"Thank you, Bucky," you said, gratitude evident in your voice.

He smiled, a reassuring presence beside you. "Anytime, Miss Y/N. We make a good team."

And at that moment, as the city lights blurred past the windows of the car, you knew that this business trip would be far more than just a bid. It would be an adventure, with Bucky as your unexpected ally.

🚗

After you won the bid, you demanded a meeting with the CEO and threatened to sue the company if you weren't promoted.

Asserting your worth, you stood firm, and the CEO eventually relented, granting you the promotion you rightfully deserved.

As you stood in the office, your evil manager and colleague before you, the air was charged with tension. They both wore expressions of surprise and disbelief, clearly caught off guard by your sudden assertiveness.

"Good afternoon," you began, your voice steady and firm. "I requested this meeting to inform you both that your employment with this company is terminated, effective immediately."

The evil manager scoffed, a hint of arrogance in his voice. "You can't do that. You're just a new employee."

You met his gaze, unwavering. "Actually, as of today, I've been promoted to a position where I have the authority to make such decisions."

The lazy colleague chimed in, who answered your call at the airport. Her voice laced with disdain. "This is ridiculous. You're letting power go to your head."

You shook your head, a steely resolve in your eyes. "No, this is about accountability and integrity. Both of you have demonstrated a lack of professionalism and ethics that is unacceptable in this company. And you make me go alone knowing that the trips was a high risk."

The evil manager tried to argue, but you held up a hand to silence him. "There's no need for further discussion. Your actions have consequences, and now you're facing them."

With that, you handed them their termination letters, each neatly printed with the company seal. The evil manager's face turned red with anger, while the evil colleague's eyes widened in shock.

"This is unfair!" the evil manager shouted, his voice filled with outrage.

You remained calm, unfazed by his outburst. "It's the consequences of your own actions," you replied firmly.

Othrr colleague tried to plead for another chance, but you stood your ground. "I'm sorry, but this is non-negotiable," you said, your tone resolute.

As they gathered their things and left the office, the weight of their absence felt like a burden lifted from their shoulders. You watched them go, feeling a sense of relief and empowerment.

🚗

One day, the memories of Russia tugged at your heartstrings, and you found yourself longing to return, this time for a personal visit to see Bucky. With determination, you booked a flight and arrived at his apartment.

Bucky greeted you warmly, a smile spreading across his face. "Miss Y/N," he said with genuine happiness.

"Bucky," you replied, matching his smile. "I couldn't resist coming back to see you."

You smiled, feeling a rush of excitement and nervousness. "I wanted to thank you," you began, gratitude filling your voice. "For everything. You were there for me in Russia, and I couldn't have done it without you."

Bucky's expression softened, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth. "It was my pleasure. You showed courage and determination. I was just glad to be a part of it."

"I wanted to ask," you continued, gathering your courage, "if you would consider coming with me. With my promotion, I have the opportunity to lead new projects, and I can think of no one better to have by my side."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your offer. After a moment of contemplation, a smile slowly spread across his face. "I would be honored," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I believe we make a good team."

Bucky smiled warmly, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he grabbed his car keys and jacket. "To celebrate, let me pay for tonight's dinner. My treat," he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but feel gratitude and happiness at his offer. "That sounds wonderful." you replied, a smile spreading across your face.

That's how the love story between you and Bucky started.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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[boyfhee]

✶ THINKING ABOUT. . . ft. lhs

g fluff w drinking ( he's drunk again ) wc 1.3k note for my darl @isoobie, all my hee works are for her anyway

heeseung doesn't have a high alcohol tolerance.

in fact, he doesn't have any— maybe a little bit— but mostly no, and yet still, he doesn't refuse whenever someone offers him a drink. you've been over this many times, telling him that drinking is not comparable to singing and continuing to drink probably won't improve his tolerance, though your effort is of no avail.

because if it were, you wouldn't have been standing inside a restaurant-bar at eleven pm, watching jay and jake trying to get a hold of an almost-passed-out heeseung, who, for some reason, smiles the moment you enter his currently blurry field of vision.

“we're sorry you had to come here this late again,” jake shoots you an apologetic smile, throwing one of heeseung's arms over his shoulder, making sure he doesn't fall because of the lack of sense of balance as jay was at the counter, making payments. “you know how he is, just wouldn't let us drive him back,”

which is another reason why you want him to stop drinking.

the first one being him wanting to only go back with you when he’s drunk out of his mind, pleading to you with the most irresistible pout to let him stay over at your place— it once dragged the two of you into a scandal. it’s worse since he refuses to let anyone else drive him back when he’s drunk off limits, only wanting you to pick him up even if it’s only to drop him at the dorms.

while being your best friend makes him one of your top priorities, it absolutely doesn't mean he can call you at the most ungodly hours and have you pick him up after heavy drinking sessions. and even if he does, he can at least try to be a little decent and cooperate instead of saying that you're the one who's drunk and he will drive you back to your place and even look after you for the rest of the night.

“heeseung, i don't think i'm the one who needs supervision today,” a sigh escapes your lips as you and the boys manage to get him in the back seat of your car.

“i will look after you so, don't worry,” his replies are followed by soft giggles.

then it goes quiet.

you steal a glance at him through the front-view mirror. heeseung is busy basking in the city noise and street lights. cold winds brush past the rosy dust on his cheeks, strands of purple hair dancing in the wind that make him look angelic, his ocean deep eyes telling a story of a million stars under the crescent moon, as if they're communicating in a language so foreign for the humankind to comprehend.

these are the moments when you realise that one could ask why you like heeseung, and you could give a thousand reasons why you're actually in love with him.

“we’re having another comeback,” he speaks above the blaring horns of vehicles. he’s telling you that for the ninth time— six times sober, three drunk, including this one.

“is that why you drank so much? to celebrate?” your chuckle resonates with a hint of sarcasm, words keeping up with him although, your mind is busy focusing on driving as you filter through the traffic. on other days, the roads would've been tamer, a little emptier. though, the weekends are not.

heeseung exhales heavily. “maybe,”

and it gets quiet once again.

you can hear him say a few things here and there, giggling about something amidst himself, his words too quiet to be coherent to your ears. you don’t quite remember when you and him got so close, to the point where he started calling you for help in every minor inconvenience instead of his brother. you were just a neighbour he bumped into around the dorms, voluntarily and willingly, and now you’re his best friend in just ten months.

“are you still thinking about the comeback?” the question leaves your mouth the moment you park in front of his dorms, holding the door open for him to get out of the car. “can i get a spoiler, or do you still remember the company guidelines even when you’re drunk?”

heeseung and you have been on opposite tracks ever since the day you met, and it doesn't even have to do with your zodiacs and personality— you can’t sing to save your life, while he earns off music— and, you don't know how you both got to a point where he's the person you trust blindly and you're the one he seeks for in the dead of the nights. it's something that comforts you while reminding you how you both have completely different worlds. perhaps, it's in the habits and insecurities that follow, or the simple realisation that heeseung is a star while you're just a planet revolving around.

there's a line between him and you that's stopping you from entering his world, and vice-versa.

“heeseung,” you call him again, putting an extra emphasis to get his head out of whatever comeback related thoughts he’s having, grabbing his arm to get him out of the car.

“i'm thinking about something else,” you scrunch up your nose when he speaks while practically reeking off alcohol. “i'm thinking about you,”

that’s not the first.

and then, he settles his eyes on you, one arm around your waist for support, fixating his gaze on you for a better look as if he has never seen you before. heeseung leans against your car, spending the next five minutes staring at you as you stare back at him with the same interest, or perhaps more, before he breaks into a soft giggle. “you're cute,”

that’s a first.

you don't want to overthink and assume a completely different meaning of his words, changing the trajectory of your relationship— which is actually what you want but, not this way— you decide to play along. “well, i believe i'm more than just cute for being the one to pick you up whenever you're wasted—”

“and pretty,” another first, and then follows a step that he takes towards you. “you're beautiful, smart and cute and. . .and did i tell you that you’re beautiful? i don't know what i'm saying,” a hiccup, his hand brushes against yours, it’s not an accident. he caresses your hand, looking at you with a flushed face and speaking with soft giggles, “i think i'm in love with you,”

“i think, you don't know what you're saying,” you interject with a chuckle, trying to put up a normal front while in reality, you're losing sense of everything because heeseung is confessing to you; and, it's both an honour and a shame because he is intoxicated at the moment.

“i don't,” he exhales.

heeseung falls quiet once again. there's dejection on his face along with hints of desperation to voice his exact feelings, to make sure you understand how he feels about you, and you know his words couldn't be clearer, but he is drunk. you know better than trusting saccharine words laced with the smell of alcohol, although you would've already kissed him if you were braver and he was sober.

“but i really love you,” he says again, chanting the same words to you as if those three words are the only thing that make sense right now. "we’re having a comeback,"

and heeseung also has a habit of talking pointlessly, repeating the same things over and over again when he’s drunk. another step towards, his hands brush against yours before he links his index finger with yours. you almost give in, almost, finding it hard to control yourself through the close proximity between him and you. you find yourself getting drunk on the alcohol in the breathe, or the way his lips are barely centimetres away from yours.

“i love you,” he repeats again, and you’re frozen in your stance, and he has no plans of backing out, you’re expecting him to bring up the comeback again, but he just presses his lips against yours before pulling back. “so please remind me if i forget any of this tomorrow,”

and then his lips are back on yours. 

[stariikis]

𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐲.𝐣𝐰

synopsis ; as a trainee under Jungwon's company, rumours have already started to fly about the two of you in a committed relationship. However, the speculations they create are neither wrong nor right, and when it all seems like too much, Jungwon's your only respite.

pairing ; idol!jungwon x trainee!reader genre ; fluff, situationship, oneshot wc ; 1015

inspired by ; call it what you want - taylor swift

Yang y/n. You can hear the low whispers trailing behind your back everywhere you go. Every step you take, every move you make. Hands stuffed deep in the pockets of your baggy jeans, a stuffy mask covering half your face. Jungwon’s one and only. 

You would never have minded being caught up in this type of situation with Jungwon, if it didn’t come at the expense of your deeply treasured privacy. If it didn’t mean you would spend your day treading over fragile eggshells, just so the rumours don’t fly again. So that Jungwon wouldn’t have to defend your name to the public every time a camera turns his way. 

As a child, you loved the flash of a camera on you, you loved the attention. Adorned in Disney princess dresses and waving around a fairy wand with a flourish, you were the perfect model for your parents’ DIY agency. However, now, as one of HYBE’s most valued and talented trainees, you can’t help but start to despise your excessive exposure to public view. 

Not to mention, when you’re caught up in a dating scandal with Belift:Lab’s Yang Jungwon, which isn’t even entirely a lie. 

The sleek black cap has to be pulled further down your face in order for you to feel even a twinge of peace. Speeding up your footsteps towards the company building, you wonder how life would be if you had just accepted Jungwon straight away, like you had multiple times before in your brain’s most romantic fantasies. 

What if you had accepted him? What if you had rejected him? What if you hadn’t allowed this confusion to slip into something so complicated that even the two of you can’t tell the truth from a lie. 

Every day, without fail, you show Jungwon all the newest online articles, and in return he screenshots speculatory posts about the two of you and sends them to you. In a matter of a few years, your innocent camera roll went from cute selcas of yourself, to Twitter posts, ship edits, and paparazzi pictures you wish were edited. 

“She must be waiting here for Jungwon!” 

Hundreds of passers-by crowd around you, but their words and their faces are all a hazy blur to you. Standing still in front of the revolving pair of entrance doors, the only face you want to see is Jungwon’s. 

And as if on cue, like an angel’s blessing has been bestowed upon you, there’s a tight grip on your arm in the middle of the fog. Jungwon’s faint baby scent fills your senses, a big, warm, bear hug in of itself. He lifts the cap off your head, a look of such affection and pain swamping the depths of his hazel eyes. 

When did you start shaking? 

Head tilted to the side, he bends down to whisper in your ear, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to block out the loud chorus of gasps. 

“You’re shaking.” 

“Great job, genius. Didn’t notice,” you snap back almost instantly, careful to keep the sharp words a hint under your breath. The public etiquette classes you’ve recently started attending are doing a world of wonders for you. 

”Ah,” Jungwon hums cheerfully, his arm coming to sling around your shoulder. “You’re grumpy. Sounds like you need a scoop of ice cream.” 

“So suddenly?” You roll your eyes disdainfully, but quicken the pace as he starts walking down the sidewalk. The sea of fans, half screaming at the chance to see Jungwon, half shoving their phones in your faces, part like they’ve been called to do so. You should probably get used to the celebrity life, but every time this happens, a red flush of embarrassment never fails to drown out the paleness of your face. 

Jungwon shoots you an encouraging, charming smile, hiding his uneasiness very well. “I was kind of kidding, but let’s get out of here, because I have something for you.” 

Curiosity strikes you. “Something for me?” Your mind runs wild with the varying possibilities of cute gifts Jungwon would come up with. Because Yang Jungwon is totally the type to buy “Just because” flowers; definitely someone who’d dedicate a crocheted stuffed animal to his beloved. 

Then again, you’re not his beloved, and you’re not his friend. You’re mostly stuck in between the two. While you have your reasons, sometimes you question your decisions that led up to this kind of rocky relationship. 

A rocky relationship that Jungwon still somehow manages to make right. 

You round a corner, and he pulls you close in the secluded alleyway. With the tantalising aroma of freshly baked buns wafting in the air, you wonder if Jungwon’s taking you out on a ‘date’ that might not really be a ‘date’ but you’d still like to consider it a ‘date’. 

But he doesn’t budge from the spot you two stand awkwardly in. You look up at him, bemused, and he just pulls something out of his pocket. Your favourite shade of turquoise, complemented with black and white and beaded up into a bracelet. In the centre, marks Jungwon’s initials. YJW, in his very own handwriting, engraved into the circular polished beads. 

“This is for you.” Jungwon murmurs, fitting it around your wrist without even bothering to wait for a response. He must know you already treasure this bracelet like it’s your lifeline. However, this is so weird. Are you supposed to walk around with the initials of a guy that doesn’t even belong to you displayed for everyone to see? 

By the look in his eyes, Jungwon seems to think that’s completely normal. And so, you calm your racing heart. If it’s normal to Jungwon, it’s normal in your books as well. 

Lightening the atmosphere, you look deep into his eyes and joke, “Shouldn’t I be wearing my own initials around?” 

“Well, at least one matches up. Y. Yang. It’s like we’re married.” 

And he leaves you blinking rapidly in utter confusion, laughing and slipping back onto the sidewalk. You can only stare at your wrist, vowing never to take it off. Ever.

thank you for reading ~

i'll take this time to promote my chaptered nishimura riki fic, you in the rain. if you're a fan of wifty or taylor, be sure to check it out! hehe

more of my works >>

[halfbloodprill]

Some smut for Luke, he and the reader are exes, and at one of the bonfire parties, Luke sees the reader flirting with another guy, and he gets jealous, something with enemies to lovers. :)

authors note- hiii thank you for leaving this request i LOVEEE it. i’m so sorry it took me so long to get to it i have been crazy busy 😣 i hope u enjoy <3

smut below!!

Things with luke worked for exactly 8 months. it was great. you had picnics together, you trained together, and you always shared your evenings together at the bonfires. you laughed and loved each other, your energy feeding into the growing flames with embers flitting through the smoke. towards the end, things got rocky. luke became a more angry person. even if he wasn’t outwardly angry, you saw the scowl that had now seemed to permanently rest on his face when he was deep in thought. you never missed the acerbic comments he made about the gods every once in a while that you just chose to ignore for avoidance of sparking another debate about how awful the gods were at being parents. this tension left unhappiness tainting your relationship, so you called it quits. Luke was hesitant and when you finally got all your stuff back, he was angry at your decision to leave him. in complete disbelief. the camp’s golden boy was dumped? how?

it was quite the scandal at camp too. the seemingly happy couple decides to call it quits. people whispered for a few weeks but eventually it all died down. you missed him though and you knew he felt the same way too. you never missed his stares across the fields or during meals, and you never stopped yourself from searching for his familiar face during the day. but you knew this wasn’t healthy anymore. so you wanted to branch out more, and tonight’s celebration would be the perfect time to mingle as every cabin gathered around the bonfire.

you had set your eyes on a tall Ares kid. He seemed nice enough, a bit gruff at times but you were determined. you put your hair up in your best style and put on the slightest hint of makeup ( courtesy of the Aphrodite kids) and made your move. you left your seat from your friends and walked over to sit next to him instead. you settled between him and his sibling. he sat in a perplexed manner until you introduced yourself with your soft voice and extended a hand. He took your hand, engulfing it with his much bigger one, and you got to talking. everyone was engulfed in conversations. no one paid attention, except you could feel a pair of watchful eyes. you look across the flames as the Ares child talks of something Clarisse did recently and you see a pair of eyes, one lacerated with a scar, peering angrily back at you. you held eye contact firmly. you slowly peeled your eyes from luke and back to the ares boy, laughing at his remarks and placing your soft hand on his forearm. your knees were touching and he had a flush on his face that was not from the heat of the dancing flame.

luke felt anger boiling in his stomach. yes you two were over but there is no reason for you to be touching that ares boy like that. you were his. always his. he would show you. He continued to watch as you laughed and thoughtlessly played with his hands. he noticed that somehow you two were getting closer. he jumped from his own seat when he saw that you two were standing up and trying to retreat back to one of the cabins. He stormed over before you two could leave.

“Hey man. I’ll take it from here,” luke intervened.

You both stared at him in pure confusion.

“I’ve got her. We were gonna go somewhere more quiet,” the ares boy replied. you clung to his arm which furthered lukes anger.

“No I wouldn’t advise that. She can come with me now. Right, sweetheart?” luke looked at you and you firmly held his eye contact.

“No, luke. I wanna go with him,” you answered in a firm manner while looking at the ares boy.

“You don’t even know his name. He just wants a quick fuck. Some whore to help him do what his hand can’t do anymore. You’re coming with me. Now.” Luke’s voice was stronger and he grabbed your wrist tightly.

“Hey that’s not true. She can think for herself. this is why she dumped you,” the ares boy replied, now growing tired of Lukes interference. you winced at his unwise words.

“Are you still here? I told you to leave her the fuck alone. You can go now,” lukes eyes flashed with anger. He pulled your wrist and you towards him successfully. He continued to pull you along with him and back towards the cabins.

“Luke where the fuck are you taking me?” You questioned as you stumbled behind him.

“Shut your fucking mouth and just follow. You always have to ask your questions,” luke replied heatedly. so you continued to follow him until you saw a building in front of you.

“Why are we at the Ares cabin?” you questioned.

“Just shut the fuck up and go inside,” luke says annoyed and pulls you inside. he leads you to one of the bunks and pushes you on.

“did you forget you’re mine? i’ll have to remind you,” luke basically growls.

he kisses firmly. his teeth are clashing with yours. his tongue is swirling in your mouth. You can’t keep up with his pace.he’s ducking your tongue and searching every inch of your mouth with his own tongue. he missed the familiarity of your mouth. his hands are firmly in your hair and cradling your head. he can smell your shampoo on you. he’s still sucking at your mouth when he comes up for air, panting and a string of saliva connecting you two.

“missed you so much princess. need to remind you who you belong to,” he says before he started to attack your neck. he’s nipping at your neck, sure to leave marks on the column and side of your throat. you’re whining at the feeling of his teeth on your neck and hips wiggling from the stimulation. he’s kissing up your neck and to your chin and mouth again before he sloppily kisses you again. saliva coating his own mouth and chin from his attacks on your neck. your mind has already gone fuzzy. his hands are finding the button and zipper of your jean shorts and tugging them down as you kick off your shoes. he laughs at the eagerness of your movements and starts to grab the hem of your shirt. he makes eye contact with you in a way that asks if you’re sure that you want this.

of course you do.

he pulls the shirt over your head while you lay back onto your elbows. he’s spreading your legs and stares at your pussy in a tantalizing manner. He groans at the sight of your glistening folds. it’s quiet before you hear him and feel him spit on your cunt. he lays his tongue flat on you and your head is thrown back at the pleasure of his tongue on your heat. he’s attacking your cunt. his tongue goes from fucking inside your tight hole and sucking vigorously at your clit. the amount of pleasure has your grasping at the sheets and pulling at his hair, grinding your hips against his face. he pulls back, chin and mouth glistening before speaking. “Someone’s eager huh? do you think he could’ve fucked you this good?”

you shake your head dumbly and pray he goes back to his ministrations. he leans back down and you can feel the tip of his nose gliding against your wet clit. the pressure alone has you squirming so much he has to put a hand against your stomach to hold you down. before you can cum, he pulls away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“you’re ready now, right? you can take me? you’re lucky i even prepped you,” he says with a malicious glint. he pulls his cock out and you can only stare at it. it’s so pretty. so long and veiny. he holds his hand out expectantly before saying “spit.”

you gather spit and spit onto his hand before he rubs his length. he grabs it and measures it over your stomach to see how deep it will be reaching inside you. “It’s been too long without your pussy baby. you’re sure you can still take me?”

you nod quickly because you just are so needy and need him in you so badly. to feel him using and bruising your gummy walls with the head of his cock and every vein you feel so well.”

“I can take it. Swear I can. I’m your good girl still. wanna be good and warm for you please sir,” you start whining and begging in such a pathetic manner. luke coos at you for how pathetic you look. “my baby is so desperate yeah?” he says before he reaches down and cups for face with one hand. he slaps you a few times. “take it slut,” he growls before he plunges in fully without a warning. the air has been pushed from your lungs and you whine loudly at how quick he intruded.

he starts a brutal pace. his hands goes from your cheek to around your throat, the other one pushing down on your stomach.

“you feel me here right? so deep. you’re mine. all mine. gonna put a baby right here. show everyone,” he says while pushing harder to emphasize. your head is fuzzy because of the lack of air, from the pleasure and his words that turn your brain to goo.

“yesss i’m yours sir. i wanna be yours. always. give me a baby. bree- breed me,” you slur out.

“oh shit yeah. i’m gonna breed you. that’s all you are. a toy for me. gonna cum as many times as it takes for you to be round with my baby. fuc-fuckk,” he says as hr throws his head back.

he’s fucking you hard still. and you’re so brain dead until you hear voices growing closer and realize the bonfire has ended and campers are heading to the cabin.

“Luke! they’re coming back, stop!” you exclaim. your face painted in worry.

“Let them. Hope he sees who you belong to. only one who’s gonna come is you. right. now,” he punctuates those words with hard thrusts that have your eyes rolling back. you’re teetering on the edge and finally crash over, but see the light from outside as the cabin door opens.

[gimmethatagustd]

love song (1) | kth + pjm

After a surprise collaboration that shocked their fans, broke records, and earned them a Grammy, salacious rapper V and sweetheart idol Jimin are the duo the music industry didn't know it needed but now can't live without. Fans just have one burning question: Are V and Jimin dating?

○ Pairing: Rapper!Taehyung x Idol!Jimin

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: A/B/O, idols/musicians (not canon/BTS), friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, smut, fluff, light angst

○ Word Count: 7,253

○ Warnings: Suggestive language

○ Notes: This fic was written for the Omega Jimin Fest on AO3. It's inspired by Jungkook's Seven era and the way my soul left my body when I found out he was going to collab with Latto.

○ Post Date: April 29, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

When Seokjin asked Jimin who he wanted to have featured on “Love Song,” he gave his answer before Seokjin could even finish speaking. It was two years ago today that Jimin texted Taehyung, having received his phone number from a friend of a friend. As careful as celebrities are about keeping their contact information away from the public, it often isn’t difficult to poke around for information if you know the right circles. It’s funny how Taehyung’s contact was once saved as “V” in Jimin’s phone rather than “Baby Bear” with an array of emojis.

V was an unexpected choice as a featured artist, which is precisely why he was perfect. Korea’s greatest bad boy, V isn’t known for pushing the boundaries of acceptable behavior in a conservative society — he outright crosses them. Seokjin had been wary of agreeing to Jimin contacting Taehyung about the song only a few months after Taehyung was cleared of a rumored drug scandal ending in a short but well-publicized investigation that found Taehyung innocent of the crime. Whereas most idols’ careers would be sorely impacted by such an experience, Taehyung’s alleged bad behavior only added to his allure.

Was it a risk for Jimin to fraternize with someone like V?

Yes.

Was it worth it?

Two years of friendship and a Grammy later, Jimin knows he wouldn’t change a thing.

Jimin wonders if Taehyung remembers that it’s the second anniversary of their meeting. He shifts slightly and tilts his head to watch Taehyung from where he’s snuggled in his lap, his cheek squished against Taehyung’s upper thigh and the rest of his body curled on the couch under a heap of blankets.

Taehyung is still dressed in the outfit he wore for the final concert of fellow rapper Bibi’s first world tour: a black silk shirt with the buttons undone low enough to show off the multiple thin gold chains that rest against his chest, black skinny jeans with the knees ripped out, and black leather boots. His wavy bangs are pushed away from his forehead, exposing his strong brows and expressive eyes decorated with just a touch of makeup to accentuate his dark irises. 

He’d insisted that Jimin not lie in his lap since he’s sweaty from the performance, but Jimin doesn’t mind; he can’t find any problem with Taehyung smelling more like Taehyung. Sweat and adrenaline from the performance heighten Taehyung’s strong alpha scent, an earthy, spicy combination of driftwood and bourbon that makes Jimin’s nose tingle when he breathes in deeply.

They aren’t at Jimin’s apartment because of their friendship anniversary; they’re here because Jimin is recovering from a particularly draining heat, and Seokjin has a bone to pick with Taehyung. Their argument overstimulates Jimin, who is still sensitive and achy.

Likely noticing Jimin’s subtle movements, Taehyung resumes massaging Jimin’s head with his long fingers, weaving through his hair to deeply massage his scalp. Jimin can’t help but lightly purr, the sound quiet enough that only Taehyung can hear it. Jimin knows Taehyung does because the corner of his mouth twitches with the hint of a suppressed smile, and his dark eyes briefly flit down to look at Jimin before darting up again when Seokjin calls his name.

“Taehyung-ah, are you even listening to me?”

Jimin snuggles against Taehyung’s thighs and tries to ignore Seokjin’s yapping. The two men have been going at it for at least twenty minutes, though Jimin has been dozing intermittently. There’s nothing better for Jimin than to come down from a miserable, week-long heat spent alone by snuggling into his best friend’s warmth.

“Yes, hyung, I’m listening. You said I should be more responsible with Jimin’s image.” Taehyung’s literal response is harmless, but the singsongy, immature way he repeats Seokjin’s scolding sets the man off.

“As Jimin’s manager—”

“Hyung, it was a joke.”

“It is my job to protect him. You saying, in an international interview, that your joint album is going to be more explicit than ‘Love Song’—”

“Isn’t inaccurate.”

“—is unnecessary,” Seokjin clips as he crosses his arms against his chest. “People make assumptions, Taehyung, and it’s my job to control the narrative. You weren’t even supposed to say anything about the album at all. Now we have to move up the promotion schedule, which means we’re in a time crunch, and, well, look at him!”

Jimin drags his eyes from Taehyung’s smirk to Seokjin’s scowl and tries not to laugh at how ridiculous they are. They’re talking about him like he isn’t even there.

“I’m fine,” Jimin murmurs as he pushes back against Taehyung’s hand, which has fallen still, trying to coax him into playing with his hair again. “I’m just dehydrated. You don’t need to worry about me, hyung; it’s just the final symptoms of my heat wearing off. I promise I’m okay.”

No one in the music industry can say that their manager is more committed to them than Seokjin is to Jimin. They’ve been together since Jimin’s group, dreamscape, went on an indefinite hiatus three years ago. Jimin’s debut as a solo artist would have never gone as smoothly as it did without Seokjin’s support.

Of course, such care from a manager means that Jimin is fussed over constantly. Once Taehyung was added to the mix, Jimin found himself being pulled in either direction by two men who care for him dearly but don’t always think with their whole brains.

It’s cute rather than harmful, especially when Taehyung fusses. When Taehyung looks at Jimin with kind eyes brimming with affection, Jimin has to beat down the fluttering that kicks up in his chest without fail. It’s just the hormones from his heat, Jimin’s omega being needy, and Taehyung’s alpha being the closest one around. As a beta, Seokjin’s fussing does nothing but warm Jimin’s heart; as an alpha, Taehyung’s fussing makes Jimin feel things he chooses not to think about. It’s just hormones.

With a sigh, Seokjin slumps in the armchair across from the couch in Jimin’s living room. He reaches for his glass of red wine, which sits on the coffee table. Tucking his long hair behind his ear when he tilts his head back, Seokjin finishes the rest of his drink in one swallow.

“Tomorrow is Sunday.” Seokjin avoids Taehyung, choosing to look at Jimin, who barely has his eyes cracked open.

“Mhmm.”

“On Monday, the three of us and Yoongi are meeting with the director to finalize the details for the ‘Hurt So Good’ music video. Taehyung,” Seokjin points his empty wine glass at him, “If Yoongi doesn’t show up on time, I swear to god I will shit a brick.”

“What about the BuzzFeed Thirst Tweets episode?” Jimin asks as he slowly rises from Taehyung’s lap to sit beside him. “That’s on Wednesday, right?”

Irritation muddles Taehyung’s scent into something biting and charred. 

“I don’t know why I’m in trouble over what I said when that BuzzFeed episode is gonna be a million times worse than anything I’ve ever done,” Taehyung is whining, but he’s got a smug twinkle in his eyes when he glances at Jimin, as though checking to see if he’s paying attention.

Of course, Jimin is. When Taehyung’s in the room, it’s impossible for Jimin not to give him his undivided attention.  

Seokjin eventually leaves, but not without lecturing Taehyung. He puts his shoes on and insists that Taehyung ensure Jimin is well-rested for the remainder of the weekend. It’s out of love; all three of them know this. That doesn’t make it any less amusing to Jimin and irritating to Taehyung.

Taehyung takes good care of Jimin, bad boy reputation or not.

“How was your heat?” Taehyung asks quietly after bidding Seokjin goodbye.

“Awful,” Jimin admits with a sniffle. “I wish I could take suppressants so I’d never have one ever again.”

Heats spent alone without a partner are usually miserable. Unfortunately for Jimin, he doesn’t have a partner, and he has always suffered side effects from being on suppressants. He is particularly plagued by terrible migraines and increased blood pressure, both ailments that negatively impact his career. Since his heats take up so much time, he has to plan his job around them, which is why Seokjin is so bent out of shape over Taehyung prematurely leaking their album news while Jimin is still recovering from the week.

“I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to deal with heats either,” Taehyung says with a pout, “Not getting to hang out with you for a week fucking sucks. Though I’m glad you called me this time.”

“We are never talking about that.”

“I think we should.”

Jimin glares at Taehyung’s boxy grin and the evil glint in his eyes. 

During most heats, Jimin hides his phone from himself so he doesn’t do anything stupid while his brain is foggy and sex-crazed. Seokjin or Hoseok, Jimin’s former bandmate, check on him at least once a day to bring him food and ensure he isn’t wasting away, so it really isn’t a concern to not have access to his phone.

This time, though, Jimin couldn’t bear to part with his connection to the outside world — his connection to Taehyung — even though he knew he should.

“Taehyung-ah, I miss you sooo much,” Taehyung’s naturally deep voice takes on a higher pitch meant to imitate Jimin.

“Stop it! Stop it right now!”

“I wish you were here, Taehyungie!” 

“Shut up!” Jimin nearly shrieks with what little energy he has while Taehyung cackles as he gathers the blankets from the couch to carry them down the hall to Jimin’s bedroom. 

Jimin doesn’t know why he reached out to Taehyung during his heat. In the two years they’ve known each other, Jimin has never done something like that – in his entire life, he has never reached out to someone during his heat. He doesn’t even want to think about what that means. 

“Don’t worry, Jiminie,” Taehyung bumps his shoulder with Jimin’s as he passes him in the hall, “I wish I could make you feel better.”

Jimin doesn’t know if Taehyung understands how his words sound to an omega fresh off his heat. They sit heavy on Jimin’s chest, quickening his heartbeat and making him pause for a moment, fingertips pressed to the wall to steady himself when he has to take a deep breath. As an alpha, there are many ways Taehyung could make Jimin feel better during his heat.

Not that that even matters. Jimin and Taehyung are friends, and friends don’t help each other through their heats. Everyone knows that. Jimin must have called Taehyung because he genuinely missed him and knew Taehyung could comfort him; that's all. 

Shoving his muddled thoughts into the back of his mind, Jimin follows Taehyung to his bedroom and takes the lead once they’ve dealt with the blankets. 

It would be embarrassing for Jimin to have an alpha who isn’t his mate in his bedroom at the end of his heat, but, as in many cases, Taehyung is the exception. He follows closely behind Jimin, stepping over dirty clothes and granola bar wrappers strewn about the floor, only stopping when he reaches Jimin’s bed. Jimin thinks Taehyung looks sweet with his hands clasped behind his back as he rocks on the balls of his feet, respectfully waiting to be let into the messy nest Jimin has created in his bed out of blankets, pillows, and clothes.

“You can sit with me,” Jimin offers with a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes because he’s sleepy and a little sad, though he doesn’t know why.

“I’m gross.”

“Shower first, then sit with me.

Jimin sorts through the items arranged in a misshaped circle in his bed, eventually untangling a pair of loose cotton pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt from the pile. He has to resist the urge to lift the clothes to his face and bury his nose in them until he breathes their scent so deeply that it alters his DNA.

“Here.” Jimin tosses the clothing to Taehyung, who catches the bundle with one hand.

“Jimin-ah! I’ve been looking for these!” Taehyung complains as he slips out of the bedroom to retrieve a towel from the linen closet in the hall. 

Probably half a dozen more stolen t-shirts are wrapped up in Jimin’s little nest, all of them Taehyung’s. Nothing calms Jimin’s omega quite like Taehyung’s scent. It’s not weird because it makes sense. They’re best friends. If someone’s best friend doesn’t comfort them, are they really best friends? 

The bathroom is an ensuite, so Jimin can see Taehyung through the door from where he sits on his bed. He fondly watches Taehyung wiggle his butt as he skips through playlists until he finds the right one to sing along to in the shower, and Jimin decides that it wouldn’t make sense if Taehyung didn’t bring him such comfort.

The rap playlist Taehyung picks isn’t a surprise, but his silk shirt balled up and thrown in Jimin’s face is. 

“Tae!”

“You were gonna ask for it anyway,” Taehyung smirks as he reaches behind his neck to unclasp his chains. “And don’t act like you weren’t ‘cause you definitely were.” 

Refusing to respond to such an annoying allegation, Jimin rolls his eyes and waves Taehyung away. It isn’t until Taehyung closes the bathroom door that Jimin allows himself to slowly exhale. 

Perhaps Jimin has used Taehyung’s clothing to help him through his heat in more ways than just basking in his comforting scent. But that is because of hormones and biology, and nothing more. 

When Taehyung returns from the shower, he smells like vanilla. Call Jimin conceited, but he only buys vanilla-scented hygiene products to match his own vanilla scent. His excuse is that he’d prefer not to muddle his own scent with whatever scented soaps he uses, though he could solve that problem by buying unscented items like most people do. That doesn’t seem fun, though, and Jimin would prefer to enjoy life rather than sterilize it.

Lately, sleepovers with Taehyung have become a common occurrence. Preferring to shower before bed, Taehyung often walks out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, smelling like vanilla. Perhaps Jimin buys vanilla body wash, shampoo, and conditioner because he likes his scent on Taehyung.

Perhaps.

It’s a comfort thing, Jimin thinks as Taehyung crawls into his nest of blankets, sheets, and clothes. It’s a comfort thing and nothing more.

Despite typically staying up much later, the aftereffects of his heat make Jimin sleepy. He lies back on his many pillows. Like always, Taehyung follows his lead, tied together by their red string of fate — if Jimin believed in such things.

“All these clothes and stuff are clean, right?”

“I wouldn’t invite you in here if they weren’t, you sicko,” Jimin snaps with a smack to Taehyung’s arm, but all Taehyung does is grin like the little shit he is.

“Just making sure.”

It’s embarrassing, but not as much as it should be. Most alphas can’t handle heat talk; they act like it’s gross or oversexualize it—there’s rarely an in-between. Taehyung is different, though. Heats and ruts are normal, just like every other bodily function and hormonal instinct. Taehyung treats them as such.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jimin asks as he lifts his arm to let Taehyung snuggle against him to rest his cheek on his chest despite Taehyung’s damp hair wetting his shirt. “Does Bibi have another concert?”

“I’m hanging out with you. Did you already forget Seokjin hyung’s lecture?”

“Just because he said that doesn’t mean you have to listen to him…” Jimin points out with a shrug.

Taehyung is quiet. He drapes one arm over Jimin’s torso so he can reach the hem of his t-shirt. He plays with the inner seam for a while, picking at the stitches and making his fingertips brush against Jimin’s skin. The light touches make Jimin shiver, his body already hypersensitive from the hormonal overload he suffered through for the past week. He wishes his body wouldn’t react so strongly to something so innocent.

“You know I love kickin’ it with you, Chim.”

Taehyung’s voice is too soft, too low. He twists the hem of Jimin’s shirt around his long fingers and doesn’t say more.

“Okay…” Jimin nods even though Taehyung isn’t looking at him.

He can feel himself grow warm from Taehyung’s body heat and each brush of their skin, no matter how short or light. Hormones ruin everything. Jimin hates being ruled by them, even if only for a week every few months.

“Not gonna say it back?”

Whatever unusual softness that had overcome Taehyung is gone in an instant, a cheeky tone replacing what had been too gentle for Jimin’s sanity. Taehyung rolls over so he’s no longer lying on Jimin, allowing the poor omega to finally breathe.

“Go to bed,” Jimin is desperate to pull himself out of the heated bubble Taehyung has somehow created around them. He kicks away his blankets and turns on his side, giving Taehyung his back. “It’s late.”

“It’s not even midnight.”

“I’m tired.”

With a snort, Taehyung ruffles Jimin’s hair. He’s probably trying to be annoying, but it feels like a caress rather than a mussing to Jimin. Long fingers slip through his dyed strands, flopping them from side to side. It feels nice, even if Taehyung is being silly.

Jimin keeps his eyes closed, even when the bed creaks. He feels the mattress dip behind him and Taehyung’s warm breath fan across the curve of his ear.

“Night, Sleeping Beauty,” Taehyung murmurs so deeply that it rouses an ache in Jimin’s stomach. “Set an alarm, okay? We’re getting breakfast in the morning. Don’t make me have to wake you up with true love’s kiss.”

“You don’t brush your teeth first thing in the morning,” Jimin mumbles back and tries to swallow the anxiety-induced bile creeping up his throat. “Don’t put your lips anywhere near me.”

Taehyung pauses for a moment, just long enough for Jimin to hear and feel air rush from his nostrils. It’s the quiet laugh Taehyung is known for, one that’s almost mocking and makes Jimin feel both adored and humiliated when directed at him.

“Sweet dreams, Chim.”

The bed dips and creaks, and the blankets rustle. Jimin holds his breath until Taehyung is settled, then exhales quietly through his nose until he can tell Taehyung has fallen asleep.

Most nights, when Taehyung sleeps over, Jimin lies awake with a restless mind and an even more restless body. It has been two years now, but Jimin still can't meditate away the heart palpitations Taehyung gives him. Some nights, he wonders if his heart would still race if he and Taehyung were both omegas. On other nights, like tonight, he turns to face Taehyung, and wonders when his innocent thoughts about his best friend turned into a burning desire to know if his lips feel as soft as they look.

Hormones, Jimin’s mind whispers. His heart reminds him that Taehyung sleeps over more often than Jimin’s heats come.

Every night Taehyung stays over, including tonight, Jimin waits for sleep to sweep such thoughts into the ocean of his mind, losing them beneath the waves until they inevitably resurface with each new tsunami of emotions.

-

The cafe Taehyung and Jimin visit in Seorae Village is one of Taehyung’s favorites. It’s a little cafe squeezed between two larger establishments, an art gallery on one side and an ornamental furniture store on the other. Taehyung spends so much time in the French neighborhood that Jimin is surprised he isn’t fluent yet, though he doesn’t miss the opportunity to impress Jimin with his casual French speaking skills as he requests a table for two at the cafe’s outdoor patio. 

“It’s so nice out,” Taehyung says, turning his face to the sky like a sunflower seeking the sun, "We should take advantage of the weather. You need a little sun, Chim, after being inside for a week.” 

It’s embarrassing to allude to his heat out in the open, even if no one knows what they’re discussing. Jimin quickly looks at the waitress, who guides them out the side door leading to the patio. She doesn’t pay him any mind, likely because she’s staring at Taehyung in awe. Whether she’s admiring his good looks or she’s starstruck, Jimin can’t tell. It irritates him regardless. 

The cafe’s patio borders the sidewalk in front of the cafe, separated by a short, decorative iron fence. The location is perfect for people-watching but too public for Jimin’s liking.

“Can we get a table in the corner there?” Jimin gestures to an empty table further away from the sidewalk’s edge.

Most of the patio tables are occupied; being away from the most populated side of the patio would make Jimin feel better. It isn’t that he never goes out in public, and he doesn’t worry much about going out without someone on his staff, but it still feels strange. All it takes is one cocky sasaeng to ruin what could be a relaxing opportunity to spend time with his best friend.

The waitress finally addresses Jimin when she squints at him. Her irritation is uncalled for, and Jimin is taken aback by how openly snappy she is with him.

“I’m sorry, but those tables—”

“We need to sit over there,” Taehyung interrupts the waitress in a steady and unforgiving tone.

Taehyung isn’t mean when he stands between the waitress and Jimin, but his scent spikes enough to make Jimin’s skin tingle when he inhales. If there’s one thing Taehyung is known for beyond his artistry, it’s his expressiveness. Such a quality has gotten him into more trouble than Jimin even knows.

Jimin can’t tell what the waitress is. She’s likely a beta or wearing scent blockers. Despite being petite, she holds her ground against Taehyung, even as she wordlessly beckons them toward the table Jimin wants. Outside appearances are never as reliable as scent when determining sub-genders, so Jimin tries not to make assumptions. Although he isn’t ashamed of his own status as an omega, he isn’t fond of people making assumptions about him just because he’s somewhat short. Hardly short! Very average, actually. It isn’t Jimin’s fault that he is surrounded by tall people.

“You’re being a bully today,” Jimin remarks once they’re seated. He lifts his eyes from the cardstock menu in his hands to see Taehyung grinning across the table.

“I’m an angel.”

“Hmm…”

Taehyung folds his forearms on the table and cocks his head to the side. His sunglasses are pushed on top of his head, forcing his bangs away from his face and making them stick out like a mane. He’s cute like this, all angular and bright, honey-tan skin glowing in the mid-morning sun. Meanwhile, Jimin is sure he looks like a pathetically pale dumpling. Not that it matters. Friends shouldn’t care about how each other looks.

Looking back down at the menu, Jimin picks at the corner edge and lets his eyes glaze over the nonsensical French. Despite being well-traveled and adventure-loving, he doesn’t know what most of these items are. Europe wasn’t usually on dreamscape’s tour schedules, and Jimin still hasn’t done his own world tour yet.

Jimin is just about to ask Taehyung to put him out of his misery and order something for him when Taehyung’s sudden question interrupts his thoughts.

“Are you mad at me?” Taehyung asks, a half-smirk punctuating the question. If Jimin is mad at him, he doesn’t seem exceptionally apologetic.

“No…” Jimin straightens in his chair and clasps his hands between his thighs to hold them in place. If he keeps fidgeting, he might go crazy. “Why? What did you do?”

With a shake of his head, Taehyung laughs, something airy and pretty that makes Jimin feel like he could do well to lighten up a bit, too.

“What haven’t I done?”

“Taehyung.”

“Alright,” Taehyung takes a sip of water and waves away the waitress when she approaches the table. “I thought you would’ve been upset that I spoiled our album.”

“I wasn’t mad…”

Scent spiking with something sweet, like bourbon and honey, Taehyung leans back in his chair and crosses his arms behind his head.

“I knew it. You’re pissed.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. Taehyung is so dramatic, a true celebrity, and a typical alpha. He weasels his way into things, and suddenly, everything is about him. The worst part is that Jimin always falls for it, forever a supporting actor to Taehyung’s main character.

The interview wasn’t as bad as Seokjin makes it out to be. Jimin remembers cuddling in his bed halfway through his heat with his phone rotated and propped against one of his many pillows. He could have watched Taehyung’s interview on the TV, but his body had ached too much to sit up straight. Watching the interview helped his mood a little. It was something to pass the time while Jimin struggled to fall asleep, and he’d been genuinely curious about what had made Seokjin so pissy. 

Sitting through interviews is difficult for Taehyung. Whereas Jimin thrives under the spotlight, immediately unfurling the social butterfly often cocooned inside him when he isn’t making public appearances, Taehyung struggles to keep his interest. If the questions are boring, he’s likely to skirt over them or provide answers Yoongi will scold him for later.

Taehyung’s fans enjoy the interviews, even when he gives them very little to work with. Jimin supposes fans’ opinions are all that really matter.

The interview took a hard left turn when the interviewer suddenly asked, “So, V, we heard a rumor that you’re working on a joint album with Jimin. Is that true?” 

A small smirk lifted one corner of Taehyung’s mouth, and he exhaled with a quiet, short laugh just barely caught by the mic clipped to the lapel of his black leather jacket before he simply stated, “It is.” 

By that reaction, Jimin knew that the rest of the interview would go downhill. Their entertainment companies had meticulously planned their album announcement and preview as part of their pre-order campaign. Taehyung effectively fucked up months of planning in a matter of two words.

“I was annoyed but unsurprised,” Jimin stares hard at Taehyung’s cocky expression. “Seokjin hyung said he nearly threw his phone at the TV when he got the call from our producers saying that you were yapping away.”

“The interview questions were leading.”

“You’ve done a million interviews, Tae. You know how to handle tricky questions when they try to back you into a corner,” Jimin rebukes.

Taehyung just shrugs.

“I’m not an idol, Chim. I don’t have extensive PR training like you.” The wide-eyed, puppy look Taehyung pulls is a mousetrap Jimin willingly flings himself into without considering why.

“What? You are an idol, Taehyung!” Jimin whispers harshly, now leaning forward with his fingers curled around the edge of the table. They shouldn’t be talking about this publicly; the other cafe patrons could easily record them and do damage much worse than Taehyung’s loose lips in interviews.

“I am not. I’m a rapper.”

“So would you say that Hobi hyung isn’t a rapper because he’s an idol?” Jimin challenges. 

“All squares are rectangles, but not all rectangles are squares.” 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” 

Shrugging, Taehyung’s eyes sparkle and remain on Jimin even when the waitress returns to their table. He gives her their food orders, mercifully choosing something for both of them and never once looks away from Jimin’s face.

“Why were you unsurprised? About me spoiling the album?” Taehyung changes the topic once the waitress leaves, and Jimin lets him because he lets Taehyung get away with everything.

“Have you met yourself?” Jimin snorts.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is cheeky and ingenuine but still as charming as anything that comes from Taehyung’s mouth.

“I’m sure you are,” Jimin grumbles between taking sips of water to give himself something to do.

Unease has crept into his bones, eating through his marrow like termites in wood, ever since he called Taehyung during his heat. It was out of character for Jimin and laced with connotations he still doesn’t want to consider. Yet here he is, staring at Taehyung with sleepy eyes and a wandering mind, just to watch how his pretty lips shape his name. It seems that even if he’s unwilling to consider what his strange behaviors mean, they aren’t going to disappear.

“Jimin-ah.”

Blinking, Jimin sets down his glass of water and runs the long sleeve of his sweatshirt over his mouth. “Y-Yeah? What did you say?”

“I asked if you’re excited,” Taehyung pouts from being ignored, “We’ve been working on this album for ages.”

Jimin’s excitement is unfathomable. Joint albums are uncommon, especially between a K-pop idol and a Korean rapper. It took them a year to complete the album — faster than Jimin had expected. It helped that they surprisingly work well together. Where Jimin is an executor, Taehyung is an innovator. Taehyung’s creative energy is boundless, but he needs Jimin to reel him in when he takes off too high in the clouds. Jimin can work a to-do list like no tomorrow, but Taehyung makes sure he sleeps at normal hours and eats regularly. Where one of them lacks, the other nurtures. Jimin doesn’t mind. He quite enjoys grabbing Taehyung by the coattails to yank him back in the right direction, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy being doted on — but only sometimes, of course.

It’s the hormones, probably.

After collaborating on “Love Song,” Jimin and Taehyung played around with the idea of working together on an even bigger project. For Jimin, he’d felt something electric, sparking every frayed nerve in his body, galvanizing him in a way nothing has for a very long time. Not only was working with Taehyung exciting, but Jimin was finally stepping out of the strict rules he’d had to follow under dreamscape — rules that prevented him from showcasing the mature side of himself that his producers deemed inappropriate for Jimin’s fanbase — as if his fanbase isn’t full of adults at this point in his career.

“Are you excited?” Jimin asks with a cheeky smile to match Taehyung’s. They both giggle, and nothing more needs to be said. They’re asking each other stupid questions; of course, they’re excited.

“What is it like working with Jimin? The two of you have had such great success together in the past, obviously, ‘Love Song’ winning a Grammy for Best Pop Duo last year,” the interviewer had asked in what Seokjin now calls “Spoiler Gate.”

“Jimin is fucking amazing,” Taehyung had responded.

The grin he flashed at the camera was boxy and lopsided, so different from the cocky expression he often puts on during interviews. Millions of people had already watched the interview by the time Jimin did. Jimin still feels like Taehyung's smile had been for him.

“Honestly, he’s the reason this album will come out on time. I’m good at ideas, but I can’t commit to anything. I’ll rewrite the lyrics and rearrange song orders. It took me weeks to get my verse for ‘Love Song’ to him because I kept doing it over. Eventually, Jimin was like, ‘If you don’t send me what you have, I’m going to ask Bibi to do it instead.’”

“He threatened you!” 

“He fucking did,” Taehyung had laughed, soft and low.

“Bibi on the track would have been a much different song, wouldn’t it have?”

“Ah, Hyungseo is cool. She’s way more knowledgeable about pop music than me, so the vibe of the song would have shifted.”

“Fans, particularly Jimin's fans, were pretty shocked by the explicit version of ‘Love Song.’” 

The cocky look returned when Taehyung confirmed, “Our album is going to be worse.”

-

On Monday, Seokjin insists on taking one of the chauffeured company cars to meet with the music video director, citing the benefits of traveling inconspicuously. Jimin knows Seokjin just doesn’t feel like driving. Either way, Jimin doesn’t mind. The travel time is minimal, and Jimin’s private Twitter account provides him with enough entertainment for the ride. One tweet in particular catches his eye, mainly because Hoseok brings it to his attention through an abrupt text message:

Hobi hyung 🌞 Jim Jam! How was your brunch date yesterday?? Jimin ??? My what Hobi hyung 🌞 [screenshot]

“JIMIN spotted with V leaving a cafe in Seorae Village,” the tweet reads. It boasts a candid and surprisingly high-quality paparazzi photo of Jimin and Taehyung at the little French cafe they went to for breakfast the day before. 

In the photo, Taehyung stands beside Jimin, who sits at one of the cafe’s outdoor patio tables. From the angle, it looks like Taehyung is leaning into Jimin’s face with one hand pressed against the table and the other curled around Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin cringes at how terrible he looks. Still drowsy, he hadn’t bothered to dress fashionably and instead pulled on a lazy outfit of an oversized sweatshirt and baggy jeans despite the warm spring weather. Complete with a beanie that hid his cotton candy blue hair and face mask, he thought he’d looked inconspicuous. 

Regardless of Jimin’s outfit, it’s obvious that Taehyung was the reason anyone spotted them. He didn’t bother hiding his appearance at all. His striking visuals are enough to make anyone stop to watch him walk down the street, and his short-sleeve t-shirt exposed the recognizable tattoos that decorate both his arms and creep across his collarbones.

The Twitter account is verified, but Jimin can tell it’s a fan account rather than a news outlet or saesang-run paparazzi account. This account is dedicated to providing updates on the dreamscape members. Despite how annoying it is to live in constant surveillance, it warms Jimin’s heart to see dreamscape fans, dreamers, still showing their love for the group. Their love is emphasized by the tweet’s many replies. Curious, Jimin scrolls through the commentary. He expects to find sweet messages from dreamers wishing him a healthy day or asking questions about his album with Taehyung. Instead, what he finds makes his chest feel tight.

“VMIN CRUMBS I AM LIVING,” one Twitter account shouts at Jimin with more exclamation marks than he can count. Another account below asks, “is this them soft launching their relationship?? taehyung i need answers.”

Lightly holding the base of his throat, Jimin takes a deep breath and quickly scans the other comments, finding much of the same. Both his and Taehyung’s fans keep referencing a term Jimin isn’t sure he’s heard before.

“Hyung, what’s a soft launch?” 

Seokjin looks up from his phone to frown at Jimin. Admittedly, it’s a weird question, especially to ask without providing context. Jimin isn’t interested in providing context, though. He even twists slightly in his seat to limit the likelihood that Seokjin might see the tweet opened on his phone from where he sits in the backseat with Jimin.

“A soft launch is when a company releases its product to a limited audience rather than the greater public. Remember when dreamscape released the mobile game to select Dreamers before it was made available to everyone? I believe it’s to minimize damage if things go wrong in the early stages,” Seokjin resumes, idly scrolling through his phone, “Hoseok would know more about that stuff. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jimin says with a bright, close-mouthed smile that puffs his cheeks.

Seokjin puts down his phone again and eyes him suspiciously. “Park Jimin, why do I have a bad feeling about you right now?”

This is what Jimin gets for spending little time on social media. He doesn’t even know why he felt compelled to look at Twitter today. The Buzzfeed episode recording may have something to do with this spontaneous decision, though perusing social media has always been Taehyung’s pastime. Jimin prefers to watch Netflix or play mobile games. Unfortunately, he forgot his headphones and doesn't want to bother Seokjin, who is already cranky from the anticipation of dealing with Yoongi and Taehyung simultaneously.

Clearly, everything has backfired.

“I saw something about soft launching a relationship, but I just didn't really know what that meant.” 

It isn’t a lie, though Jimin isn’t above lying about most things. Being an idol provides few opportunities to enjoy a normal life if a few lies aren’t told when needed.

“Ugh, the youth,” Seokjin grumbles with a wave of his phone at Jimin. “It’s a cesspool, the internet. They’re co-opting words and turning them into phrases that don’t make sense! How do you soft launch a relationship? You’re either dating, or you’re not. Humans aren’t products to be tentatively unveiled.”

“Dating?” Heat creeps up Jimin’s neck and spreads across his cheeks. He slides his hand from the base of his throat to press against his sternum. Neither hold is comforting enough to self-soothe. 

Why would their fans think Jimin and Taehyung are dating? All they did was go out to eat, something they’ve done publicly a handful of times before. From the tone of the Twitter accounts, it seems to Jimin that fans have had suspicions about his relationship with Taehyung for quite some time.

Jimin That’s really weird… Hobi hyung 🌞 Is it? 🤗🤩 You didn’t answer my question!! 🤔

Frowning, Jimin slips his phone into his pocket and turns toward the side of the car to look out the window, where no alarming conspiracies about himself lie, waiting to assault his mind.

Considering how many dating scandals Taehyung has had, perhaps their fans’ speculations aren’t wholly unwarranted.

Still, Jimin finds it all very strange. He can’t shake the thoughts muddling his brain, even when their car arrives at the corporate office of Kim Namjoon, one of the finest film directors in the Korean music industry. Jimin trails behind Seokjin, thankful he is willing to take over as they navigate the building’s lobby and shuffle into an elevator with Namjoon, who comes down to greet them personally.

“Jimin, it’s nice to see you again. How long has it been? Since dreamscape’s last comeback, I believe?” Namjoon’s handshake is warm like his eyes and fresh peony scent, and Jimin realizes he needs to stop floating along with his head in the clouds and get his Chelsea boots flat on the ground.

“I think so,” Jimin hopes his smile is just as warm as the fellow omega’s. He doesn’t mean to be aloof, but he hasn’t slept well the past few days. Like most things, it’s Taehyung’s fault.

“Are Taehyung and Yoongi here already?” Seokjin asks, and he doesn’t hide his disdain when Namjoon confirms that the other two men arrived a few minutes before Jimin and Seokjin did.

Although Jimin’s livelihood relies on Seokjin and Yoongi getting along, it’s a bit amusing to watch them snap at each other like an old married couple. With his odd mood, Jimin supposes a bit of entertainment could do him some good.

“I appreciate you coming down to my office. I know we covered a lot of ground with outlining and sketches over our video calls, but I think a final rundown before production is necessary to do in person,” Namjoon explains while he holds open the door to a small conference room on the twentieth floor for Jimin and Seokjin.

Namjoon is right; Jimin wouldn’t feel comfortable recording the music video without discussing it in person. Call him an old-school luddite, but Jimin isn’t particularly fond of technology, anyway.

Taehyung and Yoongi sit inside the conference room on one side of a long, rectangular table. It seems they’ve been deep in conversation, though Yoongi immediately stops talking once Seokjin enters the room. If Jimin thought Seokjin’s earlier look of irritation was over the top, the deep frown on Yoongi’s expression is laughable.

Rather than be polite, Yoongi and Seokjin give each other curt nods and don’t bother with proper greetings. Taehyung watches Jimin with bright eyes and a boxy grin, so Jimin pays little attention to whatever their snotty hyungs are doing.

“Hi, Tae,” Jimin greets, fingers twisting the sleeve of Seokjin’s buttoned dress shirt to pull him toward the opposite side of the table.

“Hi, Chim,” Taehyung beams as Jimin slips into the chair across the table from him. “You look well-rested.”

It’s hardly a compliment, more so an acknowledgment that Jimin is staying healthy, but he feels his face heat up with a blush anyway. Silly, Jimin ducks his head and mumbles, “I may have slept in too late this morning,” to which Taehyung laughs.

Jimin wonders what his fans see in Taehyung. The Taehyung that the public receives is so different than the Taehyung that Jimin spends time with. He wonders if his fans would still assume he and Taehyung are dating if they knew what they were like in private.

“So, we can approach this in a couple different ways.”

Namjoon gestures to the front of the room, where a large, flat-screen TV is mounted to the wall. His tablet’s screen is shown on the TV, and he clicks through various sketches and notes that Jimin recognizes as storyboard drafts.

“It’s my professional opinion,” Namjoon continues once he’s found the image he was looking for, “That we keep the choreography.”

“What?” Yoongi rests his forearms on the conference table and leans forward, his thin gold chain sliding across the surface like coins against metal. “I thought we established that Taehyung won’t be doing any dancing.”

Seokjin lets out a long sigh and rolls his head and eyes toward Namjoon to avoid looking at the other side of the table. In their last meeting, Yoongi made it clear that Taehyung would not do choreography in his music videos — or ever, if Yoongi had any say. Which, as Taehyung’s manager, he does, whether Seokjin likes it or not. The argument was that Taehyung has a particular image to maintain as a rapper, especially as an alpha rapper. Rappers don’t dance. Alpha rappers definitely don’t dance.

Jimin isn’t offended by Yoongi’s prejudiced mindset about sub-gender roles and art choices. He just thinks Yoongi is dumb, especially when his thick, oppressive alpha scent clouds the room from his frustration. Sometimes, Yoongi behaves like a stereotypical alpha, inconsiderate about keeping himself in check. Jimin is positive that he could never have a manager who wasn’t an omega or beta.

“Yes, but the song lends itself to choreo, particularly since we can’t shoot anything overtly about the subject of the song,” Namjoon finishes with a shrug.

“Because Jimin is so innocent,” Yoongi accuses.

“Excuse me,” Seokjin jabs his index finger at Yoongi, “The hip-hop scene may be full of grotesque misogyny, but I will not have Jimin in a music video with half-naked women engaging in various kinks just because Taehyung’s verse references fucking someone tied to a goddamn bedpost.”

Smug, Taehyung presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and smirks as he gently rocks side to side in his swivel office chair. When he notices Jimin looking at him, he winks.

Jimin isn’t one to become overwhelmed, but he desperately wants to change the topic.

“If Taehyung doesn’t want to do choreo, that’s fine. Like Namjoon hyung said, there are plenty of creative routes we can take with this,” Jimin insists with an awkward laugh. He runs his fingers through his cotton candy blue hair and avoids Taehyung’s gaze.

“Actually, I’d be down.”

“You what?” Yoongi twists in his chair to stare at Taehyung, whose smug attitude hasn’t slackened.

“It’s just dancing. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Taehyung is sorely mistaken.

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie).

[penspolin]

Evidence Suggesting Benedict Bridgerton is the Lead of Season 4

As our beloved Colin says, I am indeed looking to the future and needed to make this for my own sanity heading into part 2. Prefacing this also by saying that I see the evidence for Eloise as well - none of this is official confirmation, only an array of hints/reasons why Benedict seems well-suited to being the S4 lead. Thought it might be good to put the evidence together. Some very minor spoilers for AOFAG here.

Already skipped once - To me, this is the biggest reason why Benedict is best suited for (and should be) the lead of S4. Moving Colin's story up a season made sense considering the progression of Polin's story, but if Benedict is delayed again the creators risk pissing the audience off more than they already have. Benedict is often regarded as a source of humor in the show, but if they keep recycling ideas with him, he could very well fall off of peoples' radar and lose his "fan-favorite" position.

"Purposeless" Benedict - Needless to say, Benedict is lost this season. We've known this since his character promo came out. He's lost art and has found himself running into the arms of yet another capable woman, only this one seems to have captured a great deal of his investment. The result? Potential heartbreak. This heartbreak would leave him in a similar state as AOFAG--aimless,

Anti-society - Benedict has made frequent comments throughout this season regarding his feelings on societal pressure. The underlying commentary here relates to class, and we know class is a huge theme with his relationship to Sophie. It's as if the writers want us to be fully aware of Benedict's feelings on these subjects to set up a potential conflict next season.

Dancing Benedict - A minor thing, but there have been quite a few mentions of Benedict's dancing abilities this season. Could be a hint at the masquerade ball.

Cowper-focus/Araminta Cowper - The Cowpers have gotten a fair bit of screen time this season, and not just Cressida. We've been let into their home and have witnessed the interactions between the family members. They seem to be experiencing some financial strain. In addition, a very significant detail was released recently: Mother Cowper's first name is "Araminta," the same name as Sophie's evil stepmother in the book. Curious that this was only brought up just now rather than in previous seasons.

Vauxhall - The code name for season 4 is "Vauxhall," which has a significant connection to masquerades (and scandal in general). Season 2 and 3 code names have all had some connection to the storyline (war and conflict for Kanthony and literature for Polin).

Casting call - there was an announcement about a casting call while shooting season 3 for a lady that would be leading "the next series." I won't get into all the details, but you can find all the details here: https://x.com/vengerb3rg/status/1742173304494936496. It also references the rumored casting of Masali Baduza in Sophie's role.

Luke Newton interview - Luke Newton did an interview where he mentioned that he was excited to see where Benedict's storyline will go next season. The verbiage could indicate that Benedict's arc will take the spotlight in S4. LN also mentioned having a dinner with all of the previous Bridgerton leads + Luke Thompson which could be a coincidence, or could've been a purposeful gathering.

References to Violet moving into a Dower House - Coming directly from S3 P1, we have a discussion between Violet and Kate about Violet moving into a Dower house. Violet throws a masquerade ball to celebrate moving into the Dower house, which coincidentally is where Benedict first meets Sophie. There have been rumors about this ball taking place at the end of S3.

Luke Thompson being nervous about spoiling Benedict's storyline - Maybe he would've been nervous anyway, but some have suggested that Luke Thompson's apparent anxiety about spoiling Benedict's story arc this season indicates that he is being set up to lead S4.

As I said, none of this should be taken as official confirmation, but the evidence stacks up. There's been a lot of rumors and discussions lately, so if I missed anything, please let me know! I'd love to add it to give an overview of evidence.