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withleeknow · 4 months

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wishful thinking. (03)

chapter three: puzzle pieces

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; unprotected sex (this is fiction, not real life. don’t do it kids), oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, cum eating, praise kink if you squint???, could’ve been edited a bit more but oh well i tried lol word count: 3.2k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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If loving you’s a crime Cuff me up, I’ll do my time for you, girl When I make you mine (when I make you mine) Didn’t come all this way just to waste your time

Over Some Wine - RINI ft. Maeta

It wouldn’t have taken that long to walk to your apartment. And normally, you would welcome the brisk night stroll with friends, basking in the chilly but pleasant air as you wander the empty streets, with nothing but the glow of everlasting youth for warmth every time the wind breezes by.

Though tonight you had opted to hail a taxi back to yours after leaving the club. You’re not an impatient person and neither is Minho, but whenever you’re around him, waiting always seems to be the hardest thing to do.

The entire time you were in the car, his hand was on your leg, the touch seemingly innocent at first, until his fingers started trailing higher and higher, until his hand was gripping your inner thigh. His knuckles brushed against your core at one point, and you had to summon every last bit of control not to jump his bones right then and there.

Once you're finally within the comfort of your own home, Minho's got you hoisted up with your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips instantly chasing yours while his hands settle on your ass, squeezing you as he carries you to your bedroom. He knows the layout of your apartment well enough that he doesn't have to break away from the kiss for more than a second to navigate the place and reach his desired destination.

It's only when he has lowered you on the bed that he stops kissing you, latching onto your neck while his clothed erection grinds against you. You choke on a breath as Minho sucks on a sweet spot, his favorite place to mark you. You love it, even though you always end up complaining to him that you have to cover it up when you go outside.

His hands knead you roughly, one still on your ass, the other having moved to your chest. You tug on his shirt, desperate and impatient, and he complies almost immediately. He finishes his work on your neck with a particular hard suck, his tongue soothing the skin before he pulls away from you just far enough to get rid of the shirt.

Minho dives in to kiss you again but you put a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly before your lips could meet. “Take off your pants,” you demand restlessly.

“What?” he simpers, though his hands are already reaching to undo his belt. “You don’t wanna kiss some more?”

“You can kiss me while you fuck me.”

It’s easy to tell that your words affect him, judging from the way his eyes glaze over with lust and the retort that he swallows back down. While he kicks off his jeans and boxers, you work on stripping yourself bare for him. You’re both naked in record time, and then he’s gravitating toward you once again.

It’s routine at this point; Minho likes to make you come at least once or twice before he fucks you. He’s about to descend your body before you’re stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Not gonna let me have a taste?” he pouts.

“Later,” you tell him. “I just need you now.”

He bites his lip like he’s contemplating it, then slots his body between your open legs, his bare cock positioned on your inner thigh. “You sure? Don’t want me to prep you first?” he asks.

“No.” Your hands slide up his neck, pulling him closer until he’s resting his forehead against yours. “Can’t wait. Want you so bad...”

You’re practically whimpering, positively dripping with need as you tell him this. It makes Minho lose his mind a little bit, makes his breath hitch. He kisses you again as his fingers slip through your folds, pleased to find that you’re already beyond wet.

The sounds that you make, muffled by his lips, go straight to his cock; the length throbs, hardens impossibly more.

He dips his fingers into your entrance regardless, burying them to the hilt, scissoring you open. You buck against his hand instantly, your pliant cunt soaking his digits as you whine - or try to, anyway. It’s good, the way he’s fucking his fingers into you, but you need more.

“Min, just fuck me...” You break the kiss to look at him with darkened eyes, full of desire. “Please.”

“Whatever you want, baby.” Then he’s pulling out, making a quick show of sucking his fingers clean, humming contentedly at your taste. The sudden emptiness that he leaves you with almost hurts, but it dissipates when he aligns himself with you, rubbing his tip against your clit a few times before he’s finally pushing in.

There’s a stretch but it’s not unpleasant. It’s delicious, how he fills you up so perfectly like he was made just for you.

That thought crosses your mind again.

My puzzle piece. My perfect fit.

You let out a drawn moan as Minho bottoms out. You can’t think straight, not when he’s this close to you, not when you can feel all of him. Not when it’s practically suffocating you, just how intimate the moment is.

You know it’s not exactly what you signed up for, or at least you still try to remind yourself that. And yet...

You two don’t use condoms anymore; you haven’t in a while. It’s a little reckless and stupid, you know that. Maybe if someone else had come to you and told you that they were forgoing protection with their close-friend-turned-friend-with-benefits, you would scold the shit out of them. But this is your situation, and people don’t tend to be very wise when it comes to their own dilemmas, do they?

Minho always pulls out, and you never forget to take your birth control. Of course, there’s always some concern, but it isn’t really on the forefront of your mind right now. There hasn’t been any scares so far.

“Okay?” he asks, brushing his lips against your cheek as he holds your waist.

You nod fervently. “More than okay. Please move.”

He chuckles at your impatience, giving your sides a tender squeeze before rearing his hips back. The drag of his cock along your walls makes you sigh, and when he plunges back into you, you almost shudder from how fucking good it feels.

“Minho...” His name falls from your lips hoarsely, brokenly. The pace he sets is fast, makes you see stars from the get-go. He would’ve preferred to play with you a bit more to ease the stretch for you, but he knows you wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t think you could handle it.

You pull him closer with your arms around his neck until your chest is pressed tightly against his. He kisses you again, slowly, sweetly, while he thrusts into you hard and fast.

You know he likes it when you’re loud for him, because of him. He’s told you that much himself. But more often than not, Minho would kiss you a lot during sex, swallowing the moans trying to escape from you.

Maybe he’s just looking out for your poor neighbors.

Or maybe he just likes kissing you that much.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips, breaking away momentarily to let you breathe. His cock nudges your g-spot on every stroke and it feels like heaven. “You’re doing so good, baby. Always take me so well.”

You don’t know if it’s the pet name that makes your heart skip a beat or if it’s just the praise in general, but either way, it fills you with an indescribable warmth.

You clench around him, your thighs instinctively hugging his waist tighter and that’s how he knows you’re almost there. “Gonna come for me?” he asks, his hips never easing up on their brutal pace because goddamn Lee Minho and his fucking stamina. One of his hands sneaks down to meet your clit, drumming it like he’s playing the freaking guitar and it makes you want to scream.

“So close,” you cry out. He’s brought you to that edge already, and all you have to do now is... fall. “Min, I’m...”

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

And so you do. You fall. You let yourself tip over the edge and into the sea of pleasure that awaits you. It’s stars exploding behind your eyelids, wonderfully devastating. It’s rapturous euphoria, the way Minho holds you through it all, how he peppers kisses along your jawline, how he never ceases his movements, making your high last as long as possible.

He holds out until he’s seen your orgasm through. When your bliss subsides, his hips stutter, turning more erratic.

“I’m close,” he rasps out.

You hold his face and mimic his actions just a couple minutes ago, kissing his cheek, the bridge of his nose and the cute mole on the side, then finally his lips. “Where do you want it?”

“Your mouth,” he asks gently. “Please.”

When Minho pulls out, you move toward him, settling on your hands and knees until your face is level with his bare cock. He lets out a breathless moan as you take him into your awaiting mouth, humming contentedly when you taste yourself on him. He has both hands on you, one tangled in your hair, the other stroking your cheek affectionately, all the while his hips thrust into your mouth slowly until he hits the back of your throat, only to pull back and do it again repeatedly.

You peer up at him through your lashes, and Minho just thinks you’re so fucking pretty like this, looking at him with innocent eyes, yet you’re doing downright obscene things with him, letting him do the filthiest things to you.

You place your hand on top of his own, the one that’s on your face, caressing your cheekbone. “Baby,” he whimpers brokenly as you hollow out your cheeks to try and suck him off better. His heavy length throbs on your tongue, pulsating with the need to come. He’s aware that he sounds beyond needy and desperate, but you’re just so warm and wet and a fucking goddess that it makes him short-circuit, wiping his mind clean until all he knows is you.

Nothing else, no one else but you.

It takes him only a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s calling out your name in a drawn-out moan, spilling his hot cum down your throat, coating your tastebuds with him. You bop your head along his length for a minute longer, until you’re certain that he has nothing left to give you. When you’re done, your tongue wanders from the base to the tip, lightly sucking and licking the head like a kitten, before you open your mouth to show him that you’ve been a good girl.

Minho is dazed as he stares at you, his lips parted as he tries to even out his breathing. You smile triumphantly as you watch him try to get his bearings, but after a moment, he’s still quiet. You’re about to poke his side to get him to come down from the clouds, but he’s suddenly pulling you up by your arms and kissing you hard. You let out a surprised gasp, muffled against his mouth, before you relax against him, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

He moans when he tastes himself on your tongue, and the vibration caused by the sound makes you press your thighs together.

One of his hands gropes your bare ass before his fingers find your core again, rubbing your slit, gathering the moisture there.

“Did sucking me off make you wet again?” Minho pulls back slightly to ask, a smirk evident on his lips. You don’t say anything; you just look at him with bashful eyes. “Want me to make you come again?”

At this, you nudge his nose with yours. “Will you?” you ask coyly. “Just a quick one.”

He kisses you once more before he gently pushes you backward, motioning for you to lie on the bed as he settles with his head between your legs.

He sucks a faint mark into one of your inner thighs. “Anything for you,” he says.

His lips latch onto your awaiting clit, sucking it into his mouth gently and instantly making you sigh in pure bliss. Your fingers thread themselves in his hair, tugging on it when two of his fingers dip into your entrance without warning. The digits enter you easily, aided by your excess wetness, fucking you fast, determined to make you come again.

You feel like you’re floating.

There’s something about today. Some lines, blurred.

It doesn’t take long before you find yourself nearing the edge again. You’re still a bit sensitive from your previous orgasm after all. “Ah, shit… There…” you keen out, your greedy hands trying to push him further against your cunt, which he happily obliges.

When you come in his mouth, your thighs shaking around his head, Minho laps it all up, taking his sweet time to lick you clean. You feel him moan against your core, and it isn’t until you start wincing from the overstimulation that he releases you.

A smug grin blooms on his lips as he crawls up the bed, lying down next to you. You take a couple of minutes to catch your breath, thoroughly enjoying the warmth that settles deep in your belly and the satisfying sensation between your legs. You cover your body with the duvet before you roll onto your side to face him.

Pillow talk isn’t your forte.

You just watch him as he watches you carefully, neither of you saying anything as the electricity in the air settles. You wait to see if he would speak, but after a moment, your eyelids start getting heavy. Exhaustion catches up with your body quicky.

“Tired?” Minho asks.

“Mhmm.”

He waits for another beat, reaches a hand out to stroke your hair softly before he gets up and goes to the bathroom. The aftercare is routine, and you cannot express how much you appreciate him for it. He returns with a damp cloth, then peels the duvet from your bottom half to clean you up. He does all of it quietly, and the silence makes you even drowsier.

When Minho is done, he pats your leg and covers you up again. He goes back to observing you and your sleepy face for another minute. You keep your eyes open as you try to maintain eye contact but it’s hard; you feel like you could pass out any second now.

Nevertheless, even in your exhausted state, you still sense the light somberness that befalls the confines of your walls. Usually, this is the part where he leaves, and you can tell that he doesn’t like the realization that he has to go now.

You see it in his face and it makes you a little sad because you know he wants to stay.

Then, it strikes you that you don’t really want him to leave either. At least not tonight.

“It’s late. You can stay the night,” you say quietly, “if you want.”

The same excuse that you used to kick him out the last time, now you’re using to get him to stay.

Minho seems surprised. “Are you okay with that?”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t okay with it.”

“Oh.”

You catch the tip of his ears turning red. It’s endearing, for some reason.

He puts on his boxers from where they were abandoned on the floor earlier, but opts to remain shirtless. His movements are a bit graceless, like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

This is a first for the both of you. The first time he’s ever stayed over.

“Do you want me to grab you a shirt?” he asks.

You nod lazily. “Yes, please.”

Minho wanders over to your wardrobe and rummages through your t-shirt drawer. He picks one out from the bunch, holding it up for you to see. It takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up with you, but when it does, you realize that it’s not your shirt at all. It’s Minho’s, one that he left here some time ago and you were just never reminded to give it back.

“Oh,” you say. “You can wear it if you want. It’s yours anyway.”

“I think I’d rather see you wear it.”

You don’t argue because you’re tired and it’s just a shirt. You throw it on when he hands it to you along with a clean pair of underwear.

“What?” you ask when he just hovers over your bed and stares at you.

His gaze flickers from your eyes to the shirt covering your body, his lips curling upward before he tells you, “Nothing.”

After turning off the lights, Minho climbs into bed with you. You’re lying on your back and you suspect that he’s in a similar position, though you don’t turn to look at him to make sure. It’s awkward, and you don’t really know what to do about it.

A couple minutes later, he brushes his fingers against yours. “Can I?”

You don’t know what he’s asking, but you agree nonetheless. “Okay.”

There’s some shuffling from his direction, like he’s rolled over onto one side to face you in the dark. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, until your back is flushed against his bare chest. The godforsaken thing that you call a heart starts beating wildly for a reason unbeknownst to you. It’s difficult to breathe properly when he’s holding you like this.

Like you’ve never been held before.

You think Minho feels the stiffness of your body in his arms because he starts rubbing odd patterns on your skin, up and down your sides, trying to soothe you.

It helps a bit, but then again it’s probably the sleepiness seeping in more and more too.

“Hey,” you start. “About what Hyunjin said at the party tonight.”

Minho pauses the movements of his fingers a second. “What did he say?”

“The thing he said about the girl…”

He laughs his cute laugh then, his chest vibrating with the sound. “You know the girl is you, right?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“It’s cute.”

“It’s not.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, patting your stomach with affection. “What about what Hyunjin said?”

You take a breath. “I don’t know. What if everyone finds out?”

“They won’t,” Minho reassures you. “They’re not the brightest bunch.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious,” he protests, then his voice gets smaller, full of hesitation as he asks, “Even if they do find out, would it really be that bad?”

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world,” you tell him, “but I don’t know, it’s…”

Then you trail off, not really knowing what to say. It’s what? Embarrassing? Scary? What?

“Come on.” Minho presses a kiss into your hair after a moment of dead silence. Maybe he thinks that you’ve fallen asleep, or maybe he’s trying to keep you from overthinking everything. The gentle kiss would’ve made you weak in the knees if you aren’t already lying down. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk about it later.”

Your mind takes you back to what he said just now. You can’t help but think how that sentence would sound better if only he’d switched out one word for another.

My girl…

You know my girl is you, right?

It makes your heart skip a beat, then you’re snuggling further into the warmth of his embrace, where he welcomes you with no reservation.

You drift off to the sound of his breathing, dreaming about you and him.

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amywritesthings · 6 months

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SILVER UNDERGROUND / deleted scene 01.

levi's pov #1. :: a deleted scene from chapter one. this is an alternate pov of levi's first conversation with james in the trost hospital.

happy silver underground eve! i thought i could give you all a little treat for the very first edition of additional SU content. this is a special levi-only drabble covering his pov when james first wakes up. i wrote it to better understand his own head while writing james' pov, but it wasn't necessary for the final draft. apologies for the pain, my dears. xo this is unedited. 1.8k words / angst, language, mentions of self hatred. :: please remember: this is additional content. nothing in the deleted drabbles are tied to the main content/overall final storyline.

He doesn’t bother knocking.

Levi can’t, not when you’ve been awake for twenty minutes. Twenty whole minutes where he wasn’t there. Twenty fucking minutes where you were alone, lying in a hospital cot, confused and out of sorts and more than likely asking for him.

He was supposed to be there.

He just didn’t think today would be the day it finally happened.

As he rushes through the hallways of the Trost District hospital, he tries to keep his face neutral. You’re going to need one hell of a recovery period, so he’s going to need to be strong — to hold true to his twilight promises he made six months ago, come what may.

According to Hange, you’d already been gone for several minutes by that time. That didn’t stop him from talking to you through the entire surgery prep process like you could hear him anyway. They’re cutting your shirt now. They’re setting up the blood bag. I’ll sit here all damn day hooked up to it if you need more.

(For someone notorious for silence, he sure had a lot of promises ready on his tongue.)

The door of the medical wing swings wide, and he could fall to his knees then and there: you’re sitting. For fuck’s sake, you’re actually sitting.

You look sickly, disoriented, but your eyes dart across the room towards the sudden intrusion. Your chest rises and falls in your gown. Your fingers are moving just fine.

He can’t say anything — he’s a goddamn coward waiting for the other shoe to drop in this miraculous awakening.

“Captain Levi!”

Doctor Rini’s voice calls to him, but the captain notices immediately that you don’t turn to the doctor. No. Your eyes never leave him, and it’s…

Blank.

Maybe you’re just exhausted.

Maybe you’re not quite here in the present yet.

“Doctor,” he replies, clipped to avoid emotion.

“I sent Nurse Phillipa to find you,” Doctor Rini exhales with anxiety.

“I was found.” Levi locks onto sarcasm as a defense mechanism. If it wasn’t for the good doctor, he’d already have been at the foot of your bedside. Begging for forgiveness is hardly enough. I’m sorry. “So?” I’m so sorry. “Tired of sleeping yet, or are we looking at six more months of winter?”

If you’re James, then you’ll tell him that you’d take another six months to avoid him.

If you’re still you, then you’ll tease that his left hand is trembling.

But you stare.

That’s it — that’s all you do.

Stare, and stare, and stare.

“You only look like total shit,” he continues with a snort, “so I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Captain—”

“Apologies for Levi’s intrusion, Doctor Rini.” Your attention turns when Erwin enters the room. Levi almost wants to demand you keep your eyes on him — look at me, James — but the commander speaks for the both of you. “Nurse Phillipa was able to locate me in my office. I had to retrieve Captain Levi personally. Is it alright if we come in, or is she not yet lucid?”

Of course she’s fucking lucid. She’s right here.

Levi takes a few steps forward, tightening his trembling hand into a fist to keep it concealed.

“She is… lucid, Commander.” The doctor stops there. There’s a but coming — he can feel it.

Levi doesn’t like this, not one fucking bit.

“But?” he snaps, glaring the doctor’s way for the first time since he burst into the room.

The doctor sighs with sadness then gestures towards the fallen lieutenant.

“Lieutenant, state your name.”

What?

Levi can’t help how fast his attention whips towards you. His stomach drops to the floor, digging itself into the dirt. You look… scared?

You shouldn’t be scared. He’s here. He promised he’d be here.

“...you originally stated she suffered a major concussion,” Erwin says.

“Yes, I did,” the doctor agrees, “and I also stated on the report that the probability of temporary to permanent post-traumatic memory damage was high.”

You have to be fucking joking.

Erwin states it in plain terms: “In other words, sustained amnesia.”

The fist at his side painfully tightens, his trimmed nails pushing into calloused skin. He sets his jaw, forcing himself to breathe through his nose.

“It never said anything about permanent,” Levi growls, pushing forward away from the doctor, away from the commander, to talk to you himself. Erwin’s fingertips touch his shoulder as if to dissuade him, but there’s nothing — absolutely nothing — that will keep him from this.

There’s no way it’s sustained.

Confusion in the beginning, maybe, but you just needed to talk a little. He’d show them both.

The visitor’s chair screeches against the floor until it hits the edge of your bed. You’re still doe-eyed and lost, lips parted like you’re wanting to speak — he can help. You two practically grew up with the same half-baked brain cell.

“Where are we?” Levi asks, leaning forward in his seat. He stares up at you with a hidden layer of affection, willing for the James he knows — the James he’s always known — to see.

I’m here. Look at me, James, I promised I’d be here.

“Levi,” Erwin warns. He doesn’t get it.

Levi nods his chin, albeit barely. “Answer the question.”

You pause, fidgeting in that way when you’re nervous. “I… don’t know.”

“You do know,” he urges.

“I don’t.”

“Where — are — we?”

“Stohess District?” you guess. It’s not that far off. Maybe he’s not being forceful enough.

“Try again, dumbass.”

Wrong idea — your eyes widen like you’d never been more insulted in your life. He’s jokingly called you worse. “Excuse me?”

“Levi.” Erwin again.

Levi refuses. “What’s this building called?”

“I said I don’t know,” you plead, and your voice sounds so small that it breaks his heart.

“Do you know what titans are?”

“Of course I know what the fuck titans are.”

His heart flutters at your swear. You’re not entirely lost. “Good. And do you know what the Survey Corps is?”

“Yes, why does this matter?”

“Do you know where you’re from?” If he wasn’t in control, then he’d reach out to your hand. Cup your cheek. Swear on heaven and Earth that you know this one — you just need a little more time. You need to try a little harder.

Yet your shoulders slack. “I don’t.”

Levi’s face drops, his voice taking a sharper edge by accident. “You do. You just aren’t trying hard enough.”

Maybe insults will work.

Maybe spilling his guts of all of his darkest secrets will help.

He’s a man falling through space and time itself, willing the past not to condemn him right now. He’s sinned a great deal in his life, but that doesn’t mean you should suffer for it, too.

Because you know. You know, you know, you know—

“I am trying, asshole,” you hiss, and his face lights up for just a moment.

There you are. There’s that fire. Fight — fight for this, fight with me, just fight.

“Levi,” Erwin interrupts, “that’s enough.”

Maybe it is enough.

Maybe you can rest and try tomorrow, to let you sit in this mental darkness for a little more time, but he’s waited six long months for this.

“So that’s it, then, huh?”

Levi dares to poke at the wound just one more time. You always worked best when adrenaline courses through your veins. That’s why you two were so perfect.

“You’re going to lay down and happily take being a nameless has-been after being stuck in a coma for months?”

But it was the wrong wound.

He regrets his strategy as soon as you look horrified, and he doesn’t have time to quell your fears. Your trust turns to Erwin for the truth. “It’s been months?!”

The fire dies. You’re terrified in this bed, one hiccup away from a panic attack, and Levi is powerless to fight it for you. Erwin takes over and the captain is glad for it — he’s a stone’s throw away from begging.

Come back to me. It was too much to ask of you, but he was selfish enough to ask on your near death bed anyway. Come back to me, James, or I’ll fucking drag you back myself.

But you’re not you.

You’re not you, and he’s the reason for it.

The captain chooses silence as he watches your face, memorizing the slopes of your face. His heart clenches with the hard decision in front of him: Erwin has a clearer head for this. He’s so blinded by his guilt that he’s already hurt you in the first hour of your revival.

Maybe this is his punishment for dragging you into all of this in the first place.

From the Underground City to Hell on Earth, he is the reckoning of your demise.

I think I’d remember the name of this piece of shit — in this case, you mean him.

You’re right. He is a piece of shit.

He is a danger to you.

You are in the middle of talking to Erwin when he abruptly stands from his chair, the wooden legs scraping sickeningly across the floor. Everything is underwater. He feels like his body is shutting down, so he does what he has to:

He turns to leave.

Facing the entrance, he drops his chin to his chest with a defeatist attitude. “This is a waste of time,” he urges the commander, relenting just one moment where he admits he’s fucked this up.

He’s not the right person for this, even if he’s always been your person.

He’s not the right guide to help you, even if all he’s ever done is hold your hand.

Maybe this is fate.

Maybe this is the second chance he’s always wanted for you — one without the Scouts, without running from the law, without looking over your shoulder.

Maybe Erwin will give you an honorable discharge so you can spend your days in the warmth of the sun.

He could live with that, even if he never sees you again.

“You’re always so quick to walk the fuck away.”

Suddenly his boot scuffs the floor.

His eyes shoot wide, staring at the floor ahead. There’s a splintered floor panel at the frame of the door he’s never noticed in the hundreds of times he’s come here.

For a moment he’s fooled. This could all be an elaborate trick to punish him for the shit he’s done in his life.

(Maybe you do remember, deep down somewhere he cannot follow yet.)

But you were right back then and you were right now: he is quick to walk away—

—if it means that he can't hurt you from this distance.

“I… didn’t mean to say that,” you correct quietly, and his face scrunches to battle the overwhelming bout of grief that washes over him. “I don’t know why I said that, sir. Forgive me.”

Sir.

Not Captain.

Not Ackerman.

Not Levi.

Before he can cause anymore damage, he walks out the door.

Erwin can take it from here.

#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #amys deleted scenes.#fic: silver underground #levi ackerman x reader

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magicshopaholic · 9 days

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A Day in the Life

Summary: Namjoon and Kaya deal with the aftermath of their break-up. Dilara makes an uneasy realisation about her own relationship.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC, Namjoon x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 9.8 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, making out, sex, oral sex, jealousy

A/N: Here is the next installment of unedited fic series. Takes place a couple of months after Moving On.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "meet me in amsterdam" by RINI

taehyung masterlist | namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

It is sunny and hot; Yoongi can almost hear his skin sizzle.

“Put this on before you get sunburnt,” he says to Jimin, tossing him a bottle of sunscreen as he arrives at the spot where the rest of the group is. Jimin catches it and examines the label while providing an opinion of the brand that Yoongi elects to ignore. Jungkook responds instead and they proceed to bicker half-heartedly, while Taehyung lies on a deck chair next to them, jumping in only to contribute singular comments that add fuel to the fire.

Yoongi takes a seat next to them and takes off his t-shirt, glad for the shade under the umbrella. Ibiza is as warm as they say - but it’s also as busy as they say. He turns to check on Namjoon, who had been a few steps behind him, now crouched by the end of the steps that lead from their hotel to the private beach and peering interestedly at something in the sand.

He squints but before he can get a clearer picture of what it is, he feels a tap on his shoulder to see Jungkook returning the sunscreen to him. Yoongi squeezes a bit more onto his palm and turns to Seokjin on his other side.

“Hyung? Sunscreen?”

Seokjin, lying on his own chair with a pair of Raybans on his face and a streak of white sunscreen along the bridge of his nose, sighs without turning. “What’s the point, Yoongi?” he asks wryly. “We’re all just going to die one day anyway.”

Yoongi stares at him. “What?”

“Sunscreen isn’t the answer. It’s opportunity. Serendipity. It’s…” He takes a deep breath and exhales, still not turning, “... destiny.”

For a moment, Yoongi wonders if he’s being pranked, but then Jimin and Jungkook snort at Seokjin’s response and he decides he doesn’t want to know.

“Oi, Namjoon,” he says to the leader, who joins them then. “Sunscreen,” he states, tossing the bottle to Namjoon, who fumbles it and drops it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, sheepishly picking it up and shaking it before squeezing a dollop onto his palm. “Where’s… four, five, six - where’s Dilara?”

“Went to buy some drinks,” supplies Taehyung, golden-brown in a pair of red swimming trunks, sitting up gracefully and shaking out his shaggy black hair. “She should be back by now, though.”

Yoongi turns to Namjoon. “Spoken to Hobi yet?”

Namjoon nods, taking a seat under the second umbrella and rubbing the lotion along his arms. “He landed a little while ago. I asked him to meet Bang PD if he could, since he’s in Seoul anyway. Some investors at the building this week,” he adds, answering Yoongi’s raise of the eyebrows.

“He’s missing out on a beach weekend, though,” says Jimin earnestly. He turns to face the expanse of the brilliant blue ocean and the vast white sand of their private beach. “He would love this,” he adds forlornly.

“He’ll be here later this week. We can make the trip back up here if we have the time,” offers Namjoon, before taking off his tank top.

“Ooooh!”

The three other boys jeer at his naked torso and Yoongi joins in as well, glad to see Namjoon’s abashed smile, the dimple popping faintly on his left cheek. Next to him, even Seokjin cracks a smile.

“Shut up,” he replies dismissively, looking a bit ruffled but the dimple stays on his cheek. “Why aren’t you guys in the water?”

“Waiting for Dilara,” mutters Taehyung, reaching for his phone.

“There she is!” Jungkook exclaims, and they turn to see where he’s pointing at. Across the private beach, near the edge of where the general public is lounging on the sand, Yoongi spots Dilara, in a red bikini top and light blue denim shorts, carrying a plastic bag and wading through the sand.

Jungkook waves to her but she doesn’t notice; as they watch, she gets stopped by a tall, tan man in swimming trunks. A brief exchange of words occurs, full of smiles and animated gestures from him and a few seconds later, three more men join him and they stand together, keeping her in the middle.

“A very different looking fanbase than ours, I have to say,” observes Namjoon, as the first one hands his phone to a stranger and they all pose for a picture.

“You don’t think they’ll follow her here and see us, do you?” Jungkook asks, sounding slightly anxious.

Yoongi chuckles, agreeing with Namjoon. “I think we’re okay. They don’t look like anyone who’s going to recognise us,” he adds, glancing at Taehyung. He can only see a sliver of the younger member’s face as he watches his girlfriend, his body very still.

Dilara’s hands are occupied with the bag and a peace sign she makes while the guys stand around her, arms around each other and grinning into the camera. Yoongi can’t be sure because she’s wearing sunglasses, but it seems as though she’s looking over in their direction. A couple of snaps later, Dilara waves to the fans and continues in her initial direction.

“Okay, I have cokes and lemonades,” she begins when she reaches them, tossing a yellow can so it lands neatly next to Seokjin on the towel, “beers,” she adds, handing one to Namjoon and Yoongi each, “and diet coke,” she finishes, handing one each to Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, the latter of whom pauses for a fraction of a second before he takes it.

“Coke?” Jimin wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly behind his Dior sunglasses. “Toss me a beer, woman,” he says, switching to English.

Without missing a beat, Dilara chucks a cold can at his lap which he catches right as it lands on his crotch; she gives him a wide smile when he winces and mutters a tight “Thanks”. She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and clicks open her own can of beer.

“Cheers, everyone,” she says, and all of them respond with garbled Cheers, clinking cans here and there. She takes a sip of her beer and nudges Taehyung’s knee. “Hey,” she says lightly.

A moment passes before he replies. “Hey,” he murmurs, scooting slightly so she can sit next to him and accepting a peck on the cheek.

“Your fans follow you here?” Jimin asks teasingly.

“Doubt it,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s just mid-season excitement. We’re in the western Europe - it’s the heartland of F1. Oh, and by the way - huge number of crabs all along the border,” she warns them, shuddering. “Popping out of the sand with zero warning.”

Yoongi turns to Namjoon. “Is that what you were doing back there?” he asks, pointing towards the steps to the hotel.

“Maybe,” he answers sheepishly. “They were really cute,” he adds, sounding slightly defensive.

“You’re possibly the only person on earth who thinks that, Namjoon,” says Seokjin from behind them.

Namjoon considers this, then shrugs. “They’re an acquired taste. Kaya hated them, too. Always found them creepy.”

There’s a pause where a few of them exchange looks, all of them surely thinking the same thing. Yoongi can’t remember the last time Namjoon brought up Kaya in casual conversation, but he can only presume it’s progress.

Fortunately, Dilara speaks before it gets fishy. “I agree. I think it’s the way they scuttle?”

The conversation continues under the shade of the umbrellas, the drinks feeling nice and cold. Yoongi is glad for the weekend break; it’s rare during tour and despite the fact that the coming week is going to be packed with events and appearances until the weekend concert (and race), it’s nice to have a couple of days of rest.

“Namjoon hyung, do you think the company will let me fly Sooah out to Japan for the encore concert?” Jimin asks after a while.

“I think so. We can ask the travel team,” he assures him. “You may have to fill out a form and everything, but it should be okay. Do you need tickets, too, or will she join us backstage?”

“She prefers watching it from the audience,” replies Jimin, pouting slightly. “Says it’s a better experience.”

“Oh, I agree,” pipes up Dilara, with Taehyung’s arm loose around her shoulders. “Can I get a ticket, too, for the next one?”

“Wait, you don’t like being backstage?” Jungkook asks, sounding flabbergasted.

“Of course I like it, but it’s not the same,” she argues, while a hint of a smile flickers on Taehyung’s face. “The energy outside is something else. Especially during your love you so bad moments,” she adds, winking and Jungkook. “Hearing the screams backstage isn’t quite the same, JK.”

Jungkook’s ears go a brilliant shade of red while Jimin guffaws. Taehyung nudges her. “Come into the water with me?”

“Yeah, sure.” She nods and they both stand up, Taehyung taking off his sunglasses and setting his drink on the plastic table between the chairs. Dilara nonchalantly drops her shorts, revealing plain red bikini bottoms; Yoongi looks away out of respect and notices Namjoon do the same, while Jungkook begins fidgeting with something on the edge of his chair. Taehyung and Dilara step out into the sun and begin walking towards the ocean, holding hands, while her long hair curls down her back.

“They look happy.”

Yoongi turns to see Seokjin sitting up finally and reaching for his drink. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

He shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t answer. Yoongi glances at the happy couple again, now jogging towards the water, Taehyung’s hands on her waist and faint laughter carrying over to them as they splash into the shallow waves.

“The water looks amazing,” remarks Jungkook, his eyes on the waves. “Jimin, come on.”

“My beer isn’t -”

But Jungkook steers him to stand up and Jimin tries to down as much of his beer as he can. “Jesus, slow down,” says Namjoon, frowning.

“You should join, too, hyung,” says Jimin, sputtering slightly. “Show off that body,” he teases, poking his shoulder before he and Jungkook race towards the water where Taehyung and Dilara are already drenched, splashing water at each other and laughing.

“I need to work after this.” Namjoon muses, almost to himself. “Can’t spend too long here.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, now back on his back. “Give yourself a break, Namjoon. The company isn’t going to come crashing down if you take an hour off.”

“But -”

“Everything isn’t your responsibility,” he interrupts. Namjoon sighs but says nothing, turning to Yoongi instead.

“Coming?”

“In a bit.” Yoongi gives him a wave as he stands up and begins walking towards the water. His shoulders look wider in the sun, despite the weight he’s clearly lost lately. The others are midway through a game of chicken, with Dilara and Jimin on Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders respectively. Yoongi smiles involuntarily as he watches them; it’s nice to see them letting loose, especially Namjoon.

He leans back and reaches for his phone, snapping a picture of all five of them in the water, candid and happy. He turns to Seokjin.

“You’re not going, hyung?”

Seokjin doesn’t answer for a moment. “I’ll go if you go.”

Yoongi considers this, then grins. “I’ll wait you out, old man. You know you can’t resist the water,” he quips, laughing when Seokjin chuckles.

“Someone’s got to watch our stuff,” he reasons, gesturing to their phones and discarded clothes.

“Good thing we’ve got security.” Yoongi cocks his head towards the two casually dressed bodyguards lounging a little ways away, sipping on a pearly white drink each. “Come on, take a break, hyung. You deserve it.”

Seokjin is silent for a bit, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. “Looks like a lot of splashing,” he mutters, before sighing.

Yoongi gives him a sympathetic look. He’s not sure, but there’s only one thing lately that’s capable of ruining his mood this much. “For the kids,” he urges gently, glancing at the ocean again.

“Fine.” Seokjin exhales in annoyance and places his can on the table before standing up.

“That’s it,” says Yoongi encouragingly, standing up as well. The sun is hot and the water looks magnificent. “For the kids,” he repeats.

Seokjin huffs as they step out from under the umbrellas and pad their way down the sand. “Sometimes I hate the kids,” he mutters, squinting in the sun.

“I know. Me, too.”

—

Dilara makes her way up the steps to the poolside, the ends of her hair dripping water down her side. The villa booked for them is away from the main hotel, as private as possible, for which she’s more than glad. There’s the private beach and the private pool and she and Taehyung were always guaranteed a private room.

She glances at her phone, still not seeing the email she’s been waiting for since yesterday. Clicking her tongue softly, she walks around the side of the house to see Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook sitting on two deck chairs, huddled around something. Drenched hair and drops of water still on their shoulders; they’ve just finished a swim. Resisting the urge to bite down on Taehyung’s shoulder to surprise him, she veers instead for the member closest to her with his back to her.

“What’s up, guys?” she says loudly, suddenly placing her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and leaning over him to see them peering into someone’s phone.

Taehyung and Jimin start, but Jungkook jumps. “Mweoya!” he gasps, clutching his chest. “Don’t - don’t do that,” he stutters, his face flushing.

Dilara immediately raises her hands. “Whoa. Sorry.” She frowns as he nods jerkily. “So… what are you guys doing?” she asks again, this time in a normal volume, sitting next to Jimin.

All three of them exchange looks before Taehyung shrugs. “Come on, we can tell her.”

She raises her eyebrows as Jungkook, who’s holding the phone, brings it closer to her. “I found this on Twitter,” he confesses in a low voice and plays a video. It’s barely ten seconds long; it takes Dilara about half the video to realise who the subject is.

“Is - is that Kaya?” she exclaims, wincing when they all shush her in unison. “Sorry - but… what is that? Is that her at uni? Getting mobbed?”

“It’s not that many people,” points out Jimin, but even he sounds doubtful. “And they’re not, like… crowding her. They’re just…”

“Following her,” finishes Dilara. “So her identity is kind of confirmed, then,” she murmurs, already feeling bad for Kaya. She can see Jimin’s point: it’s not that bad. It’s about five or six people turning as she passes by them, dressed casually with a coffee in her hand, and calling out her name in different tones of surprise and excitement. Kaya turns and faces the camera only for a moment, but it’s unmistakably her.

“Good thing Namjoon hyung doesn’t go on Twitter,” says Taehyung, nibbling on a fingernail.

Dilara’s head snaps up. “Wait… you’re not going to keep this from him.” When none of them answer, she tilts her head, shoulders falling. “Guys. You can’t be serious.”

“But he’s been in such a good mood these days,” reasons Jungkook, eyes wide. “Okay, not good, but better. I don’t want to…”

“Yeah, I get that, but this is important. And he’ll find out anyway,” she points out. “Come on, you can’t not tell Namjoon.”

“Tell me what?”

In the most fortuitous of moments, all four of them turn to see Namjoon approaching them, in fresh clothes and wet silvery hair. He looks only mildly suspicious at seeing them huddled together, almost as if expecting to catch them in some act of mischief.

“Um…”

The three boys look at each other, and then at Dilara. She gives them a look, knowing that regardless of Namjoon’s mood, he has a right to know. He should know.

Jungkook sighs and hands the phone to Namjoon. “We found this today.”

Dilara almost regrets her decision when she sees Namjoon’s face fall a bit more with each passing second. Next to her, Jimin scowls. “Knew we shouldn’t have told her,” he mutters softly, wincing when she slaps his shoulder lightly.

“This…” Namjoon clears his throat. “This was today?”

“Probably,” answers Jungkook slowly.

“So not too long ago,” finishes Taehyung, biting his lip. “Sorry, hyung.”

Namjoon seems to snap out of it and hands the phone back to Jungkook. “Thanks. For letting me know.” Without waiting for a response, he heads back into the house.

“Think he’ll talk to her?” Taehyung asks after a while, once they’ve finished another swim and are going into the kitchen.

“I think he already is,” replies Dilara, cocking her head towards the garden where Namjoon is sitting at a small wicker table, phone on the table and ear pods in his ear as he runs his hands over his face.

Namjoon exhales as the phone rings, his heart beating rapidly in a mixture of fear and anticipation. The video was short - too short. It told him nothing - nothing about who the people were, why it was suddenly a frenzy, whether she was officially recognised now, and how she is taking it. Does she hate him? Is she even angrier with him than she had been two months ago? Or is she finally coming around to understand why he did what he did?

Except… why isn’t it working? It’s the part that’s nagging at him uncomfortably, small but sharp in his brain: why is it still happening? Why hasn’t the world left her alone, even after he has?

“Hello?”

His heart jolts; she sounds wary. “Hey,” he says softly. God, he’s missed her voice. Recorded videos on his phone don’t do it justice.

There’s a pause. “Hey.”

He needs to speak, but it’s too hard. Defeat, anger and longing - it’s an unholy mess.

“I’m, uh… I saw the video.”

“What video?”

Namoon frowns. “The… video on Twitter. Outside your college? You, a bunch of strangers calling out your name? Mobbing you on your way to class?” he adds, running a hand through his hair and remembering the feeling of beng crowded at airports.

“Oh. That. Wait, there’s a video?” She sounds more exasperated than anything.

“Yeah. Didn’t show a whole lot, though.”

Kaya sighs; she’s probably in her cabin in the college, or she’s hopefully returned to her apartment. A moment later, the thought of that comforts him less.

“Well. Nothing really happened. I wasn’t mobbed,” she clarifies, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Are you okay?” The words tumble out of his mouth without warning because this, more than anything, is what he needs to know.

“Yeah,” she answers softly. “Nothing happened,” she repeats. “I told them I had to get to class and they left me alone. I don’t know what you’re imagining, but it’s nothing like that.”

The picture in his mind of her frightened face, of her getting pulled, harassed and crowded in her personal space comes to an immediate pause.

“I’m glad.” He bites his lip, feeling his throat hurt as a lump forms slowly. He doesn’t want the conversation to end and since she hasn’t hung up yet, he can only presume she doesn’t either. “How are you?”

“Namjoon,” she whispers, “what are you doing?”

“I’m just asking you how you are,” he says quickly. “Is that so bad?”

She takes a deep breath and it sounds like she’s about to argue, but then she simply sighs again. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m…” He can’t lie. He’s been doing it constantly, putting on a smile, performing his heart out, joking on television. But he can’t lie to her. I’m a fucking mess, and I love you.

Kaya waits, and it’s clear she’s picked up on the pause. “You looked thin the last time I saw you.”

He remembers the last time. “It’s tour,” he murmurs.

“Yeah. Okay.” There’s a shuffling sound at her end, like she’s standing up. “I have to go. I have a meeting and I have to drop off a draft to Adam’s office before that.”

She says it absently, and it seems to take her a few moments to register the dead silence on the line. Namjoon says nothing; there’s the white hot anger in his stomach he’s tried to ignore that’s returning, and the last thing he wants is to say something he might regret.

“Namjoon -”

“Okay,” he says tightly. “Bye, Kaya.” He hangs up before either of them can say anything else.

—

“So… he hung up?”

“Why is that so shocking?”

Dilara rolls onto her stomach and frowns, flipping her hair to the side so her phone is against her ear. “I don’t know. He’s the one who called you. Because he was worried?”

“Isn’t he always?” Kaya says wryly. “But this time, he actually had nothing to be worried about.”

. “Are you sure? I’m not going to overreact; you can tell me the truth.”

“I am, though. I saw the video - it looks worse than it was,” she explains. “I don’t think he believes me, though. I don’t think he wants to, because then all of this will have been for nothing.”

Dilara hums sympathetically, somewhat glad that despite her break-up with Namjoon, Kaya hasn’t stopped speaking with her out of association. She turns to glance at the bathroom, the sliding door of which is wide open, with only a blurry glass door blocking her view of her boyfriend showering inside. She bites her lip, shamelessly admiring his slender naked figure as he runs his hands through his wet hair.

“... in any case. I thought he’d be moving on by now.”

She winces, realising she’s missed part of Kaya’s sentence. “Um… well, he’s definitely not moving on. Honestly, he just seems really sad.”

“I know he is,” says Kaya, to Dilara’s surprise. “He was trying to act so calm and collected when he came to my apartment with his stupid goodbye, but…” She sighs, a mixture of frustration and sadness. “I saw that concert clip you sent me.”

“The Rome one?”

Kaya confirms it. The clip in question had been Dilara’s attempt at making Kaya feel better, except now she has no idea if it’s had the opposite impact. It was a short one, of Namjoon on stage during a concert, breaking down unexpectedly. He’d done it in the most Namjoon way possible, with silent tears slipping out of his eyes, a stoic posture and forced smile, until one by one, all the boys had hugged him, starting with Jungkook.

The comments, of course, attributed it to anything and everything, from missing his parents to appreciating his Italian fans to his impending military service. But Dilara, who had actually been backstage at that concert, knew which pictures he’d been scrolling through earlier that day, of which Roman holiday and with whom.

She hasn’t mentioned any of this to Kaya, but something tells her she may have guessed anyway.

“Yeah, well. I think part of him is mad at me, too.”

“What does he have to be mad about?”

“I don’t do well with break–ups,” she mutters. “I say things and I get defensive. Sometimes I have a rebound problem.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I just don’t know what to say anymore, when he calls me like this. I mean, I know he’s sad,” she says emphatically. “I can hear it in his voice, but -” She scoffs and she sounds sad, too, and helpless. “What do I do about it? He’s doing it to himself, you know?”

“Yeah…” Dilara hears the water stop in the bathroom. “If it helps, I think he’s channelling a lot of it into music and stuff. Like a true artist,” she adds wryly. “He performed an unreleased song at last night’s concert and the audience went nuts. I mean, it was a really good song,” she admits.

“Yeah? What’s it called?” she asks, sounding only mildly interested.

“He didn’t say. I don’t think it has a title, but the internet is calling it Aphrodite based on the lyrics. You know someone is in deep when they’ve gone down the Greek mythology route,” she remarks.

Kaya sighs but doesn’t respond, changing the subject instead. “Can we talk about something else? How was Montreal?”

“Shit race,” answers Dilara, rolling her eyes. “I know wet races are a hoot to watch or whatever, but the track in Montreal becomes like fucking ice. I have to make up for my P7 in Barcelona and Silverstone next month, that’s all,” she mutters, turning back on her back and adjusting her red bikini top, feeling her mood sour.

Kaya seems to realise this, for she quickly responds. “It looked like you had fun at Ricciardo’s birthday party this week, though. The pictures are all over Instagram.”

Dilara chuckles. “Yeah, it was fun. Honestly, it’s a good thing he always celebrates it in Ibiza so I was already in Spain this weekend. And Lexie and Chris and Fred were invited, too, so all in all it was quite fun.”

“Oh, are those the people in this picture? The one you posted yesterday?” Kaya asks, and it’s clear she’s pulled up the picture on her phone.

“Yeah. You should meet them when you’re in London in July.”

“Sure. Which one is Chris?”

“Chris Park? The one that’s not the blond German,” she quips.

“Ha ha,” replies Kaya sarcastically, before pausing. “He’s cute.” She scoffs when Dilara makes an exaggerated gagging sound. “Oh, come on, you have to be blind to not admit he’s hot.”

“Objectively speaking, I accept that he’s good looking in an obvious way,” she admits.

“Yeah, obvious hotness is the worst.”

Dilara laughs. “Fair enough. He’s not really my type, though. My type is more… classic,” she says, smirking as Taehyung exits the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist. “High cheekbones, artsy,” she lists, maintaining eye contact with him and nodding when he silently points at himself questioningly.

“Types can be fluid,” argues Kaya, but Dilara barely hears her. Stopping at her feet, Taehyung places a knee on the bed and crawls up towards her.

Biting her lip in excitement, she starts to interrupt Kaya but Taehyung, face smooth and more handsome than ever, gives her a small shake of the head, indicating to her to continue her call.

“Oh - uh… what do you mean?” Dilara asks into the phone, peering at him as he presses a soft kiss to her bare sternum and moves lower before tugging at the strings of her red bikini bottom so the knots open with ease. Nudging her legs apart, he pushes her knees up and kisses the skin just above her slit.

“Fuck,” she mutters, realising a moment later that she’s still on the phone. “I mean… fuck, yeah. You’re right. Of course.”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That weird interruption. Is there a low signal where you are?”

“No. Or probably.” Dilara swallows, only half-aware of what she’s saying, the rest of her mind preoccupied with Taehyung’s head between her legs, his tongue finding its way along her wetness, down to her clit. “I’m just - oh - just… agreeing with you.” Her toes curl on the sheets as shivers start forming from her feet up her legs.

“Yeah? About what?”

“About the - about… what we were talking about. About Chris, and the - oh, God!” She squeezes her eyes shut as Taehyung sucks suddenly at her clit, without warning.

Kaya gasps. “Oh, my God. Is - is Taehyung with you?”

Dilara is starting to unravel. “I - in a sense,” she admits, snaking her other hand down to run it through his thick hair and lifting her hips up slightly.

“Oh, God!” she exclaims, sounding horrified. “You know what? Call me when you’re… done,” she says quickly, before hanging up.

Dilara nods absently, eyes fluttering shut and letting the phone fall from her hand as Taehyung devours her, one hand firm around her thigh and the other coming up to slide into her folds, brushing over her clit while his tongue stays inside her. She’s in danger of being overstimulated but it’s so sweet, so electric that the sharp sensation only flows through the rest of her body.

“Yes, yes, right there…”

The orgasm is right there, within reach. A few more seconds of relentless tongue action while she cries out for him not to stop and it crashes over her like a wave of the ocean, her back arched and head thrown back on the pillow as he licks her through it, not letting her go even for a moment until she stutters his name.

“Come - come here,” she murmurs, head spinning and stars in her eyes as he emerges, hair dry but the bottom of his face slick with her juices. Wiping his mouth conspicuously on the back of his hand, he towers over her, eyes dark as he watches her catch her breath.

She raises her arms and he lowers himself to kiss her. The aftershocks of her orgasm are still fading away; she lets him pull her close, loving the feel of his naked body against hers, knowing for certain now that he’d seen her earlier today when she’d clicked a picture with that group of fans. Those many men, that much exposed skin and the close proximity in which they’d all surrounded her - it was just enough for a reaction.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, pulling away but staying close. He props his head up on his palm and smiles down at her, a little satisfied.

“Hey,” she says, her breathing slowly returning back to normal. “I think you just rocked my world.”

Taehyung’s smile gets wider but he visibly tries to suppress it, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “My pleasure. Must be because I’m your type, no?”

It takes Dilara a moment to realise what he’s referring to. “Oh. That.” She chuckles. “Totally my type,” she agrees.

“And what’s that?”

“My type? I dunno. Sexy. Romantic. Smart but not arrogant. Just a little pretentious,” she adds, grinning when he rolls his eyes. “Able to take control when he’s a little jealous,” she adds in a murmur, running a finger down his chest and reaching up to brush her lips against his. “Knowing every inch of my body better than anyone,” she finishes, kissing him again.

He kisses her back, slow and affectionate, and rolls on top of her. “So Chris isn’t your type?”

“God, no.” Dilara wrinkles her nose and Taehyung rolls off her, resuming his position on his side. “Kaya saw his picture on my Instagram and said she thought he was hot. I told her she could see for herself when she comes to London next month.”

“Chris? Wait, you told Kaya about him?” Taehyung frowns.

“Yeah… why?”

“Because he may not be your type, but he seems pretty close to Kaya’s type,” he points out.

“What?” Dilara squints. “No way.”

“Really? Tall, buff, straight hair? Korean?” He raises his eyebrows. “That doesn’t remind you of anyone we know?”

Dilara rolls her eyes. “That’s a little reductive. She can’t just go out and find another Kim Namjoon on the street, you know?”

“He doesn’t have to be Namjoon, he just has to look like him.” Shaking his head, Taehyung pulls up the picture on his phone. “You really don’t see the resemblance?”

“No. Just - okay, maybe the body structure. And the hair,” she admits uneasily. “And the voice, kind of. Okay, but that’s crazy. She’s not going to just suddenly be attracted to someone that looks like her ex to get over her break-up.” But her voice trails off slightly at the end and she looks up at Taehyung hopefully. “Right?”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Namjoon is going to kill you,” he states.

“If you let him, then we’ve got bigger problems than Kaya’s dating life,” she snaps. “Besides, you might be overthinking this, okay? They’ve never even met. All she did was see a picture and compliment him. As someone who’s on fifty thousand lockscreens at this moment, you should know that.”

Taehyung gives her an unimpressed look as her phone pings. She reaches over to see a message from Kaya.

Kaya [14:12]

Hey, whenever you’re free, can you send me your friend Chris’s number if he’s okay with it? Thanks.

Dilara stares at the screen as Taehyung reads the message out loud from over her head. “Fuck,” she mutters, dropping her head into her hands. “Namjoon is going to kill me.”

Taehyung, his lips pressed against her shoulder from where he’s peering into her phone, nods and pats her arm. “I won’t let him. I promise.”

She turns around to face him. “Really? Because I may just have driven his ex-girlfriend into the arms of - oh, my God, Lexie is going to kill me, too.” She groans and covers her face, ignoring Taehyung’s low chuckle as he pulls her to him.

“Don’t overthink,” he instructs her kindly. “Come on, go take a shower. Yoongi hyung wants us to go pick up stuff for dinner - he texted me a whole list but I got the car keys, too. I’ll take you out on a nice drive.” He slaps her backside affectionately.

Dilara sighs and sits up, swinging her legs over the bed and heading for the bathroom, untying and dropping her red bikini top on the way. Once she’s out, sand washed away and hair smelling nice, she walks back into the bedroom to see Taehyung in the exact same position she left him in, comfortably naked on his back and scrolling through his phone.

“Babe, can you charge my phone?” she asks him as she rummages through her suitcase for clothes. “I’m waiting on an email.”

“The same one?” Taehyung purses his lips sympathetically when she nods, reaching over to plug her phone into the bedside charger. “Didn’t they say they’d get back by now?”

“They said yesterday,” she complains, “although I’m hoping it’s a timezone thing and it’ll come today.” Pulling on a tank top over cotton shorts, she turns towards the mirror, finger-combing her wet curls. “Ugh, forget it,” she mutters. “They’re just going to curl by themselves anyway.”

“You look beautiful,” he says from behind her. “Always do.” He returns her smile in the mirror. “Do you want to go out now? It might help get your mind off this.”

“Yeah, it might. It’s not a big deal either way,” she adds, shrugging. “I mean, would it be good if I got it? Sure. But it’s not like it’s - wait, I think that’s it,” she breaks off quickly, spotting the notification on her phone as it lights up. She hurries across the room to the bedside table and unplugs her phone, swiping up on the screen.

“Okay…” Dilara opens it and scans through the initial text, while Taehyung sits up and pulls on his boxers, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. “Yes!” she yells in excitement. “I got it!”

“You did?”

“Yes! Calvin Klein fall campaign, in the fucking flesh,” she exclaims, her heart hammering in excitement. “Congratulations on becoming a part of the Calvin Klein family, blah blah blah… oh, here it is - the fall/winter campaign which will be launched in the month of September, celebrating a milestone of the brand… joining global ambassadors including Justin Bieber, Hailey Bieber - holy shit - Kendall Jenner, Jungkook of BTS -“ They exchange a knowing look, “Bella Hadid…” She trails off as she scans the rest of the list, something in her heart coming to a standstill.

“Lara?”

Dilara locks her phone and tucks it into her back pocket. “Nothing. It’s great.” She turns away before she can start to dissect Taehyung’s expression, the understanding settling in of the one detail neither of them had mentioned out loud since her conversation with Calvin Klein had begun.

“I’m really happy for you,” he says from behind her, voice soft and - she doesn’t want to dwell on it - slightly guilty. At that moment, there’s a knock on the door and Dilara immediately opens it to see Jungkook of BTS.

“Hey,” he says, looking a bit surprised. “Sorry to, er… interrupt. Yoongi hyung wants to marinate the meat before dinner and Namjoon hyung asked if we could also pick up some wine…” He raises his eyebrows, eyes wide. “I don’t want to go alone so do one of you want to come along?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” answers Dilara, bustling around to find a pair of slippers and grabbing her bag.

“What about Jimin?” Taehyung asks, pulling on a tank top.

“Yoongi gave him a giant watermelon to cut,” snickers Jungkook. “I thought about helping him but it’s more fun this way.”

“Sounds like he needs your help more than I do,” says Dilara, glancing at Taehyung. “I can go pick up the dinner stuff. Where are the keys?”

“Um, in my shorts. But -“

Dilara picks up his tan shorts from the pile of clothes next to the bed and shakes them out to catch the set of car keys that fall out. “Text me Yoongi’s list?” she asks. “Let me know if any of you want anything else. We’ll be back in a bit.”

Without waiting for him to nod, she exits the bedroom, shutting the door and leaving with Jungkook.

—

An hour or so later, Dilara slips into the tiny study, a glass of white wine in her hand. Namjoon glances away from his laptop and gives her a small smile, waving her inside.

“I heard you’re in the mood for wine?” she says, placing the glass next to his laptop.

“Wow, thanks.” He takes a whiff of it and nods. “I don’t know if I should be drinking while I’m working, though,” he adds, looking uneasy.

“You’re on vacation. You can have a drink. Come on, just one,” she persuades him, sliding the glass slowly towards him.

Namjoon gives her a look. “You’re a terrible influence,” he informs her, picking up the glass. “Cheers,” he says, and clinks his glass with the can of beer she’s holding. He takes a sip of the wine and sighs. “Fuck, that’s good. Are the mojito mixes in the fridge?”

Dilara pauses. “We didn’t buy mojito mixers. Shit, I knew we were forgetting something. But I can go out and get some, no problem,” she says quickly, nodding.

“Oh, hey, no. Don’t be silly,” says Namjoon, shaking his head. “It’s not a big deal. I can go out myself. Don’t worry about it.”

She nods slowly, hesitating. “Um… you okay?”

Her tone seems to indicate exactly what she’s talking about. Namjoon lowers his gaze before nodding. “Fine. I think. Just worried,” he murmurs after a moment.

Dilara stares inside her can, seeing nothing but dark. “If it makes you feel any better, I really think it wasn’t a big deal. The video made it seem a lot worse than it was.”

He bites his lip. “Yeah. That’s what she said, too.”

She nods, not really knowing what else to say. She considers leaving but then Namjoon speaks again.

“Do you talk to her?”

“M-hm.”

Namjoon’s shoulders relax a bit. “How is she?”

Dilara shrugs. “About the same as you, I think.” When all he does is scoff softly and look away, she abandons her plan to leave him alone. “Can I just ask…” She waits until he looks back up at her, giving her permission, “... is it worth it? Leaving, for her sake?”

To her surprise, Namjoon doesn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know yet,” he admits. “She’s been hurt before. And there’s a reason idols don’t talk about dating. Ever. It used to be out of obligation but now… it just makes more sense to keep that part of your life private. We don’t do it for fun; we do it because it’s just better that way. I can’t let her get hurt again,” he says quietly, lowering his head.

“But she didn’t get hurt,” points out Dilara. “They didn’t do anything to her.”

He looks like he’s about to argue but then thinks the better of it. “It’s not a chance I want to take.”

As much as she thinks he’s trying to convince himself more than her regarding his break-up, a different part of his spiel occurs to Dilara. Absently, she reaches for the white-gold ring around her neck, the metal warm from the sun outside.

“I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” she ventures carefully, “but I just hope you don’t regret it. Either of you.”

“You think I might?”

I think you are. But Dilara knows she would never say that out loud to Namjoon. “I think… that when Taehyung and I broke up, the most difficult part of it was going back to normal.”

He tilts his head. “How long did it take?”

“Not long at all. That was what was difficult about it. We lived in different countries, had completely different circles, so going back to normal… it took a surprisingly short amount of time,” she says, observing the point dawning on him. “Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t happy, but… honestly, if it weren’t for the Red Bull and BTS partnership and living with him and having him in my space every single day for two months, begging me to take him back… I don’t know if we’d be together right now.”

“No offence, but I think you and Taehyung are a little more dramatic than most,” he points out.

She shrugs sheepishly. “Fair enough. If you recall, I did date an arsehole mechanic just to get back at Tae.”

The silence that follows is still. Dilara suddenly remembers Kaya asking for Chris’s number and her heart jolts in anxiety, but then she puts that out of her mind; there is no way Namjoon can possibly know about that.

“You know what,” she says after a moment, more to break the silence than anything, “I’m going to go get those mojito mixes right now, so we can put them in the fridge.”

“Wait, you don’t have to do that,” he starts to say, but she shakes her head and walks backwards out of the room.

“It’s no problem. Really. I like driving,” she adds, holding up the keys and smiling. “It’s my fault we forgot them, anyway. I was distracting Jungkook with a really bad impression of Batman. But it’s okay, I got it.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “It’s really hot outside.”

“Good thing the car and the store are air conditioned.” She steps out the door and peeks in one last time. “No mistake is so bad that it can’t be fixed.”

—

Taehyung enters the open kitchen, hands in his pockets, to see Dilara, Jungkook and Yoongi putting away groceries. Yoongi is holding up a packet of meat and muttering something to Jungkook in Korean, while Dilara is pouring out glasses of something light pink.

She notices him first. “Hey,” she says, holding his gaze for a moment before looking away.

“Hey,” he murmurs, not paying attention to the other two. He’s about to stand beside her but thinks better of it, opting to stand opposite her instead with the counter between them. “You were gone for a while.”

“I had to run back and get mojito mixers. Forgot them the first time.” She finishes pouring a glass and slides it in front of him. “We got pink lemonade,” she says, sucking a bit off her thumb and turning around to place the carton back in the fridge.

Taehyung leans forward on the counter and observes her in silence, knowing he can’t say anything to her while Yoongi and Jungkook are here.

As if on cue, Jungkook seems to notice him just then. “Hyung! Did Dilara tell you the good news? About Calvin Klein?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer immediately; he notices Dilara stiffen momentarily but continuing to move things around in the fridge. “Yep, I was there when she got the email,” he says. “It’s fantastic.”

He doesn’t think Jungkook would’ve put two and two together, and neither does he think Dilara would’ve even mentioned the elephant in the room that had existed since she’d first told Taehyung about Calvin Klein considering her.

“Jungkook,” says Yoongi after a moment. “Come help me with something.”

“What?”

“Just come.” Tugging him by the t-shirt, he leads Jungkook out of the kitchen.

Left alone, Taehyung keeps watching his girlfriend. As though feeling his eyes on her, she closes the fridge and turns around.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you I was going out again.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly. He takes a sip of the lemonade and almost gags; it’s almost sickly sweet. Looking up to see her raising her eyebrows, he clears his throat. “It’s nice. Syrupy.”

She frowns, seeming partly amused. “I, uh… I talked to Namjoon,” she says.

“Really?” Taehyung is surprised; he didn’t think Dilara was the type to confront Namjoon about his personal life. Much as she admired him, he was sure the leader also intimidated her a little.

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to but he seemed really down and, I don’t know…” She shrugs, going back to unpack the two remaining brown bags of groceries. “You know, I was going through a break-up last year, too,” she says innocently, “and he gave me a lot of advice about how to deal with my ex-boyfriend at the time.”

“Interesting,” says Taehyung seriously, moving around the counter to help her with the groceries. “Tell me more.” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye to see half a smile creep up on her face.

“No way,” she says instead. “That was a private conversation, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“What?” he exclaims in mock-outrage. “No, you know what? Whatever he said, it seems like it worked for me. Or… this mysterious… sexy, romantic ex of yours that’s your type apparently,” he quips, his stomach flipping when she rolls her eyes but smiles anyway.

“I don’t know if I agree with him,” she says after a moment. “She told me he broke up with her because he thought she wasn’t safe with him. And he said that that’s why celebrities - specifically, idols -,” she points out, “- don’t talk about their relationships and flat-out lie to the press when asked. But how is that even a relationship then? If you’re just hiding your partner and not willing to actually deal with all that crap?”

“I wouldn’t lie.” Taehyung says it in a matter-of-fact way, watching as she stops a few feet away from him.

“What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t hide you,” he clarifies. She’s giving him a look he’s seen before, one he knows always appears when he says something she calls “declarations”. Her eyes go soft and a hint of a smile flickers across her cheeks, as if to say that even though she knows it can’t be true, she wishes it would. He simultaneously loves it and becomes a bit self-conscious over it.

“Aren’t we hiding right now?”

“We’re keeping our personal life private,” he corrects her. “That’s not the same thing. I wouldn’t hide you.”

“Huh. You really wouldn’t?” she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

He shakes his head, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her hips. “Never,” he murmurs, kissing her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist. He rests her forehead on her shoulder; the fact that she hasn’t shrugged him off or moved away is a good sign, but she isn’t quite leaning back into him either.

Did Dilara tell you the good news? Taehyung wonders if Jungkook thinks that he and Dilara would be actually working together, if any of the ambassadors or celebrities in the shoot would be. He doesn’t care about any of them, but he can’t imagine taking away from Dilara’s excitement about getting the campaign. Squeezing her waist tighter, he pulls her close.

“Prove it.”

He raises his head slightly. “Come again?”

“Prove it,” she repeats, turning around in his arms and stepping away slightly so she’s leaning back against the counter.

“You want to go public?” he asks sceptically. “Are you sure?”

“Well… not public,” she amends, “but maybe your fans should know, right?”

“Your fans don’t know about me,” he points out.

“No, but they know I’m not single.” Dilara tilts her head, a glint of a challenge in her eyes. “No pressure… but you did bring it up.” She reaches up and kisses him on the cheek before patting his shoulder and leaving, giving him a wave before disappearing around the corner.

—

It’s almost dinner time when Namjoon wakes up from in front of the laptop where he’d dozed off while working.

“Damn it,” he mutters, checking the time. He trudges straight into the bathroom and into the shower, the cool water helping him wake up at this unusual hour. He’s looking forward to dinner; he feels weak and low on energy and despite being on tour, he intends to eat well tonight.

He doesn’t check his phone again, not until he’s dressed and downstairs where everyone else is gathering and helping themselves to drinks. He gratefully accepts a mojito from a smiling Dilara and clinks his glass with hers.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s doing a live upstairs,” she answers. “Something about switching with Hoseok while he’s in Seoul.”

Namjoon nods, noting the change in schedule no one thought to tell him about. If Taehyung is online today, then Hoseok would have to do a live at least once before the next concert, meaning he and Yoongi could take a break for at least another week or two…

“Holy shit!”

Everyone turns to where Jimin is staring into his phone, mouth open and half-laughing. “What is it?” Yoongi asks.

“Taehyung just -” Apparently unable to finish his sentence, he shakes his head and passes the phone to Seokjin next to him, laughing in disbelief. He points to something and Seokjin raises his eyebrows.

“Idiot,” he mutters, passing the phone over to Yoongi and Jungkook. Namjoon walks over with a frown and peers into the phone over their shoulders, apparently immediately seeing whatever it is - and looking straight up at Dilara, the frown deepening.

“What is it?” she asks doubtfully, for she’d presumed it was something to do with their work. “Is everything okay?”

Namjoon bites his lip and opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then shakes his head. “You tell me,” he mutters, reaching over to hand her the phone.

A bit hesitant, Dilara takes it and immediately scans the screen. It’s a tweet with a video embedded; it’s Taehyung on a live - this live, wearing the same open-collared white linen shirt he’d been wearing half an hour ago - staring into the camera and speaking softly in Korean, looking more handsome than ever. There’s a SZA song playing in the background and a moment later, he turns up the volume and slides his chair back, bopping his head slightly to the music and running his hands through his thick hair.

He looks magnificent; it takes Dilara a moment to remember that his good looks can’t be the reason the rest of the guys displayed such a reaction. She frowns as he gives a faint smile to the camera, gaze boring into the lens, and leans to the side to pick up something from the ground, giving a clear view of one half of their room including - Dilara squints - a pain red bikini top on the bed.

“What did you do?”

Namjoon’s deep voice of exasperation jerks her out of her train of thought, which is just beginning to make sense of this. She looks up to see Taehyung jogging down the steps in the same white linen shirt and matching shorts, his hands casually in his pockets.

“What?” He looks around, frowning slightly at everyone’s gaze on him. “What’s happening?”

“No way you didn’t know.” Jimin shakes his head, looking terribly amused, and gestures for Dilara to give him the phone. She does silently, her eyes not leaving Taehyung’s face.

He watches the video expressionlessly, only raising his eyebrows at the very end. He hands the phone back to Dilara, catching her eye for a moment.

“You are going to be in so much trouble,” says Jimin, looking borderline thrilled at the prospect of it.

“It’s about time,” remarks Yoongi dryly, refilling his glass with wine. “Taehyung hasn’t caused a scandal in a while.”

“When have I ever caused a scandal?”

“No one’s going to get in trouble,” says Namjoon loudly, cutting through the chatter. “But… yeah, the company’s not going to approve of it.”

“Huh.” Taehyung bites his lip and nods. “Well, nothing we can do about it now, I guess.”

“We can get the video taken down,” suggests Jungkook. “It’s on Weverse, right?”

“Won’t everyone have taken screenshots and recordings by now, though?” Dilara asks, continuing to look at Taehyung.

“Yeah, probably,” sighs Namjoon, scrolling through his own phone.

“Top ten most irresponsible moments,” pipes up Seokjin, shaking his head exaggeratedly.

“Yeah, Taehyung, this was a careless move,” adds Jimin instantly, jumping on the train.

“You should be thankful Dilara didn’t show up anywhere in the video,” Namjoon tells him. At that, everyone turns to look at her, as though waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, uh - yeah, it’s - it’s so irresponsible,” she states, biting her lip to keep from smiling when Taehyung turns to her, eyebrows raised, hands on his hips. “But… I don’t really mind.”

Taehyung nods with narrowed eyes, still giving no indication as to the turn of events that led to this. Everyone else seems to be vaguely disappointed with her reaction; she supposes they were expecting some sort of dramatic fight.

Everyone drifts off after that, once it’s clear that the matter is more or less closed. There’s some chatter in different languages, largely debating between pre-gaming and going out, or staying in and watching a movie. Dilara finds she doesn’t really care; she stays out of the conversation, silently accepting a casual kiss on the head from Taehyung as he saunters away to the living room with the others.

“Mojito?” Namjoon offers her. “I tried my best,” he adds apologetically when she takes a sip and winces.

“No, it’s just really strong,” she sputters, eyes watering a bit. “Is this how strong you take it?”

“Sometimes,” he answers simply, but offers no more on the subject. “Are you okay? With this?”

From his partly curious tone, she takes it “this” is referring to Taehyung’s possibly accidental-on-purpose mishap with the live and the red bikini top.

“Yeah, I guess,” she answers, pouring some more mixer into her glass and stirring it. “Not like we got caught snogging or something. It’s pretty circumstantial. Do you really think he’ll get in trouble with the company?”

“Not trouble, really. Like you said, it’s circumstantial. Doesn’t prove anything.”

Dilara chooses to ignore that. “That’s good.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But you never know. Things can escalate.”

Dilara glances at him as he picks out the mint leaf from his drink. It suddenly occurs to her that this may be hitting a little close to home.

“It’s… precarious,” she admits after a moment. “But it doesn’t really change anything. Not with us, I mean.”

Namjoon nods, eyes still on his drink. “Well,” he says at last, “that’s good for you, I guess.” He meets her eyes briefly before giving her a small nod and starting to move away.

“Kaya,” blurts out Dilara, watching as he slowly turns around, “is getting published. An excerpt from her thesis - I forgot what it was called -”

“Behavioural Economics in Decision-making,” says Namjoon, nodding and smiling. His dimple appears out of nowhere and catches Dilara by surprise. “That’s amazing. Tell her… tell her congratulations from me, the next time you talk to her?”

He’s actually asking, Dilara realises. She’s about to agree, but at the last second, she looks up at him knowingly. “I’m not telling her anything,” she says, somewhat regretting it when Namjoon nods in acceptance. “You can. You should. She’s happy about it. She and her friends went out to celebrate and everything.”

“Yeah? She tell you that?”

“Not everything,” she admits. “I saw it on Instagram. Which means it’s probably a big deal.”

“Point taken.” Namjoon raises his free hand as Dilara waves at him before walking back into the living room to join the others. He swallows, not sure why the lump is appearing in his throat again. She’s happy about it, apparently. That’s what he wanted. That’s what he wants.

He should congratulate her. Slipping out of the kitchen, he heads to the room he’s sharing with Yoongi and shuts the door behind him, scrolling through his contacts. A notification appears on the top of his screen and he clicks it out of habit. Ignoring the actual subject of the message, he navigates to Kaya’s Instagram, second in his Search results.

Namjoon finds the pictures immediately; it’s the latest album she’s uploaded, consisting of three pictures of a group of people at a nicely-lit restaurant. He absently leans against the desk, missing her so immensely that he feels like his heart could crumble.

Kaya looks beautiful - and tired. But a happy tired, as though she’s worked for months burning the midnight oil and finally given herself a night off. He scans the rest of the people in the first picture; mostly peers from her program, some of whom he’s met before. He swipes right to see a solo picture of her with her glasses on and shifting her hair, followed by a third picture with the entire group around the table, all holding their drinks up towards the camera.

It’s obviously taken by someone else, perhaps a waiter or a passerby. Kaya is a couple of chairs away from the centre, in between her friend Alex - and Adam.

For a moment, his brain doesn’t know how to react. She’s sitting next to him, and smiling - but there are six other people at the table, too. Her thesis advisor went to her celebration dinner. Her thesis advisor that hit on her, slept with her and sees her every day, went to her celebration dinner.

Namjoon bites his lip, feeling his mind about to turn a corner it shouldn’t, for it wouldn’t help anyone. But it’s too close by, just within reach. With the minor buzz of the two mojitos he’s had, his intrusive thoughts take over. He swallows and grits his teeth, regretting it instantly - but it’s too late, for he can see it now: Kaya, Kaya with him, naked and glorious, eyes closed, kissing him, being pleasured by him -

His bedroom door opens loudly, making a couple of people in the living room jerk in surprise.

“Jungkook,” he says gruffly, “you’re carrying your old phone with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” answers Jungkook, standing up slowly. “You need it?”

When Namjoon nods wordlessly, Jungkook gets to his feet and jogs to his room to retrieve his old Samsung, the one he’d brought on tour before buying a new one in London, Namjoon following him.

As Jungkook leads him to his room, he peers surreptitiously into his leader’s room, frowning slightly when he sees his phone on the ground by the wall in three pieces, the screen shattered.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#namjoon x oc #taehyung x oc #namjoon fanfic #taehyung fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon angst #taehyung angst #taehyung smut

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daphnebowen · 4 months

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day five of twelve days of rina: favorite episodes 🤩

I’m doing one from each season because I’m like that and can’t choose

season one: episode five - homecoming

homecoming is obviously one of the most important and essential episodes to rina’s storyline. This is where they all got started, this is when they really started to shine, and obviously without this episode there really wouldn’t be a rina. their chemistry was off the charts in this episode and honestly going back and seeing how genuine they are with each other and how they can be so fresh and just honest with each other; man it really is something else. rini never held a candle to rina, looking back on it. They never stood a chance. “I thought we sort of, like, got each other” and “You know I meant what I said. at the skate park, about you having your own style. I don't even think I knew how much I meant it when I said it.” like dude. monumental. Already these two characters are having such a profound effect on each other and it’s been only a couple of months. AND THE CHEEK KISS. THE FREAKING CHEEK KISS. because for me, rina was never really a thought in my mind until that kiss. Until Gina showed me that she was opening up her hard heart to the brown curly haired boy with the great voice and sass for days. until Ricky showed me he wasn’t opposed to it. until their chemistry was so off the charts I was blown away.

season two: episode four - the quincenero

okay, hear me out, this episode is actually pretty important to rina. There’s a ton of character growth from Gina specifically. obviously there are other moments but I really do like the moment where Ricky comes to Gina for advice about nini and she says that maybe they shouldn’t give advice to each other and she’s not nini. which I think is a beautiful parallel, looking back on it, to when Ricky didn’t try and convince Gina to stay in slc and not do the movie because he’d already had an experience with nini where he did tell her that and she completely fumbled and freaked out. which, understandable, whatever. That’s her. But the thing is, that’s what gina wants. Gina wants to be set apart from nini, Gina is completely different from nini and in this episode she’s trying to tell him that (which she’s right, bc nini did not like it at all when Ricky revealed he’d talked to miss Jenn about getting nini in the show, but the fact remains is that Gina said she’d be flattered but said “I’m not nini and we’re not dating” to try and tell Ricky that maybe that’s not what nini wants). Gina is telling him that the things that work for her are not going to work for nini because they are two different people and their relationships - both romantic and platonic, current and future - are entirely different. which is so profound and beautiful when you compare that to Ricky’s aversion of change and you see how nini and Ricky’s relationship began to fail because Ricky was using things Gina had told him all along. which is kind of emotional cheating but wtv. anyways, the fact that Ricky was dating the person he was “most comfortable with” but using the girl who represents change’s advice is something I just love. And I’m sure I’m not explaining it well, so if anyone sees this and wants to add/explain better pls do.

season three: episode five - the real campers of shallow lake

okay I absolutely love this episode and not just because of the rina content. everything about the drama between Maddox and jet to portwell drama to Ashlyn and Val and obviously Ricky angst and feisty gina makes this episode so 💋 but obviously, I’m here to talk about the what do you know about love duet. Which Ricky/josh and Gina/sofia ABSOLUTELY SLAPPED and I gave them a standing ovation as soon as it was finished. because this was EVERYTHING. Kourtney’s clear approval, Val’s interpretation of the whole thing, their freaking history, Carlos’s encouragement, ej’s uncomfortableness, it’s all perfection. their playful banter, their voices, this being their first duet, ugh it does things to me. And the fact that it really does represent gina as anna and Ricky as Kristoff seeing that Gina is in a brand new relationship and thinks everything is rainbows and butterflies while Ricky, who has only experienced love where he has to work for the other person and strive to make things work instead of it being more effortless and easy (as rina are later) is amazing and beautiful. I could explain this more later but I don’t want to run out of room so if you want to know more, lmk. and also the “rebound” afterwards where RICKY APOLOGIZES FOR HIS INTENSITY KNOWING GI WAS EQUALLY AS INTENSE because he knows something is up with ej. but he wants to be there for gi. He wants her first relationship to go well, and he defends her to ej as well telling him that she’s just tired and coming down from the rehearsal. watch out world, Ricky Bowen will defend Gina Porter with his entire being.

season four: episode five - admissions

AGHHHHHHHHHH this episode lowkey might be my favorite of the entire series. but then again I loved every moment of every episode so I won’t say that. But this episode is MONUMENTAL for both Gina and Ricky and especially in their relationship. Gina finally opens up to her mom abt her and Ricky, Ricky opens up to ej about his fears and confronts his tendency to hide when things go wrong, and it all culminates in a beautiful second chance confession rain kiss spin hug. UGH, Tim, my FRICKIN HEART! I really do love the conversation between ej and Ricky because they truly are brothers and besties. ej truly helps Ricky so so much. And I could have a whole conversation about their conversation and all the ways it is beautiful but I won’t. Gina, meanwhile, is coming to the realization that Ricky is her inspiration and Ricky is the reason why she is happy. Ricky Bowen makes her the happiest she has ever been and it physically hurts her that her mother does not know this (it hurt me, as a viewer!) and the beautiful second chance playing as Ricky sees Mack and Gina and turns away~ it really shows that 02x12 really was about Gina all along, it was never about lilly. it was always Gina. nobody else ever stood a chance.

#12daysofrina #I have no idea if any of this makes sense #I think there’s some coherent thoughts in here #but I truly have no idea #a lot of rina's important character growth happens towards the middle of the season im realizing #which is I guess how it should be #but writing down my favorite rina episode for season 2 was hard #because that drought was rough #once I got over rini I needed rina and man there was none #thanks for reading!!#ricky bowen #gina porter #gina x ricky #ricky x gina #hsmtmts #rina #day five #already omg #I’m not ready for it to be over ☹️

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choclodox · 1 year

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I thought I’d give y’all a little break from the angst (y’all are weaklings).⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣

For story context, when Mansk got washed up on the island after the Sea Dragon sank, Nikea happened to be resting on the same one since Rini (her ikran) got hurt on their way to the Metkayina. Big Q and the other recoms came to Mansk’s rescue (because of a tracker chip), but Nikea got caught up in it and so they took her and Rini with them back to Bridgehead (much to Mansk‘s reluctance).⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣

Since Night Na’vi consider it taboo to walk on solid ground (among many other customs), Mansk ends up having to carry Nikea around whenever they’re ground-level at Bridgehead. He wouldn’t care how many people would look at him like he sprouted a second head, Momma Mansk raised the Grill Master™️ to be a gentleman.⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣

Quaritch eventually gets irritated and says that she’s too high maintenance, but wait until Rini starts screaming at night in the hangars because she misses her rider lololol…⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣

PLEASE JIM, I’LL BUY EVERYONE IN-N-OUT EVERY FRIDAY.

MANSK. MUST. LIVE.⁣

THE NIGHT NA’VI NEED HIM⁣⁣.

⁣⁣

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatarfanart #avatar2 #avatar 2 #nikea #night na’vi #alyara clan #avatar oc #mansk #private mansk #mansk recom #na'vi mansk #manskisalive #grillmaster mansk #recom mansk #avatar mansk #atwow #avatar fanart

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blues-valentine · 10 months

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I started watching hsmtmts when s3 was still going on and while watching I tried SO hard to ship portw3ll because I would see blogs talking about Rina and how bad it is only for me to end up shipping Rina. Portw3ll was too forced. They were trying too hard with their dialogue and it never came across as natural.

I could describe Gina and EJ’s relationship as lackluster and shallow. It didn't feel genuine and much more like a filter. I don’t think the writers were taking it that serious and didn’t expect people to ship them so much (but I did because there’s a reason PWs are mostly just Rinis).

Gina and EJ’s dynamic made sense on Season 1 because it was two competitive people having a common goal. EJ wasn’t interested in Gina and Gina wasn’t interested in him. I still laugh at Gina’s complete bored face at EJ’s audition. PWs claim their romantic arc started on Season 1 but that’s very debatable. Their understudy plot only served as a way for Gina to connect with Ricky. She didn’t even care about EJ getting the role of Troy. She wanted the role of Gabriella with Ricky as Troy. And once she connected with him she didn’t care about EJ. EJ buying her that plane ticket wasn’t a romantic gesture. It was about him fixing his wrongdoings because Nini inspired him to it.

EJ and Gina were barely acquaintances. He came into 201 saying he finds them all so young and then suddenly on 205 had a crush on Gina (coincidentally when Mazzara told him to focus on other things and Gina had a fallout with Ricky). Not only did it scream plot device but it seemed like a romance that existed because they wanted to ignore their problems. Gina from Ricky and missing her mom, and EJ as a way to cling to high school and not face the choices he needed to make about college/dad.

And that could’ve been fine if it wasn’t because their writing was so uninspiring and boring. It was as if the writers were trying to force them down your throat to the point their dialogue felt superficial. Of course, everyone takes what they want from romances but they lacked so much romantic chemistry that I think the writers were trying to compensate that by the overly cliche dialogue. The differences between Ricky and Gina’s dialogue and PWs is super noticiable, while Rina is full of nuance and they didn’t need much words to convey the moment — PW felt overly exposed. Their only attempt at angst in the S2 finale was so incredible lackluster. Like, they couldn’t come up with anything better.

I’ve seen so many ships that work even as a plot device but PW just wasn’t it. People that try so hard to convince themselves they had a natural chemistry and were the “best relationship” of the show feel like they’re trying too hard because their would rather anything other than Rina (hidden by their desire to have Rini back). I’ve seen ships I don’t like where I admit their chemistry is good and they just didn’t have it.

Season 3 left in evidence that Ricky and Gina have the superior chemistry and just the overall arc always ties to them. The worst mistake the writers did was putting EJ and Gina together to push a plot point while simultaneously have Rina not interacting at all because they didn’t just work and I am a firm believer EJ worked best when his character was sassy and had an individual arc. By the end of Season 2 it felt like his only propose was being Gina’s love interest.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts season 4 #ricky porter #gina porter #ricky x gina #rina #hsmtmts rina #high school musical the musical the series #asks #anti portwell

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gamerwoo · 2 years

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[SVT Imprinted] Jihoon: Scarred (Part 3)

Anonymous asked: Hi! I love your writing 💕 I was wondering, can we have a smutty Jihoon marking his gf for the Imprinted series, please? If you want, of course. Thank you 💜

Characters: Jihoon x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, angst, smut (angry sex, unprotected sex, fingering, fem receiving oral, light choking, hair pulling, marking), a lil fluff at the end

Word count: 3,220

Summary: Being too stubborn to ask Jihoon to mark you, you’ve been waiting what feels like forever for him to finally get the hint.

Tags: @psshwa @uglyratlmao @brokenbutchocolate @shra-vasti @killcomet

Unable to tag: @junuoyi

Previous | Next | Imprinted Masterlist

You weren’t here for it all, but you’d heard the stories from the others.

Faye was the first to get marked. You figured it would be her since she was mated long before you even met Jihoon. She wasn’t even just marked in one place, she was marked in a few places at all times, which made you wonder if Wonwoo wasn’t as vanilla as you had assumed – and then you’d owe Soonyoung and Rini some money.

Then the two mated werewolves were marked. Jeonghan was the one sporting a mark first, two or three days before Aya was. Though, they seemed to be everywhere. You couldn’t see them when they were dressed and walking around the house, except the one ones by their necks, but you once went to a nearby lake to go swimming, and the two wolves were littered with marks.

Fourth was Juri, which sort of came as as surprise to you. Since she was the mate of the alpha, you figured she would’ve come after Faye, or maybe a little bit beforehand. But Seungcheol was a kind and caring alpha, and he seemed like the type to make it some big, romantic ordeal with flower petals and candles, so it did kind of make sense it took him a little longer. He probably kicked the pack out of the house, too.

Then it was Jaehee. You had to admit, you were jealous when you had noticed that Jaehee was marked before you. You were sort-of-kind-of friends with Joshua’s mate since the two of you came from the same pack before this one, and you were hoping you would’ve beat her to it. But she had two mates for a brief period of time, so you kind of understood that Joshua felt territorial, and probably impatient.

Kira was the sixth, and you were close to losing your mind. Not only was Kira your best friend, but the most vanilla wolf in the house – at least, that’s what you assumed – marked his mate before Jihoon marked you. Hansol was a baby, and he managed to mark his mate before Jihoon did.

It seemed like every other week, you were noticing a new mate marked; a new mate glowing with pride that they officially belonged to somebody.

Then there was you: unmarked. You could already hear Faye’s dumb impression of the “it’s free real estate” meme in your head, and it just made you want to punch her in the face. She was the first one marked, who was she to make jokes? You didn’t belong to anybody!

You knew you weren’t the only one unmarked. Areum amd Yerin had yet to sport marks, so you were at least thankful you weren’t the last one. You were wondering what the hell was taking Jihoon so long to ask, though.

Even as Jihoon rolled off of you, your bodies covered in post-sex sweat, you were still unmarked, and grumpier than you previously were. However, Jihoon didn’t notice since his eyes immediately closed, tired from what had just occurred. The whole thing was initiated because of your annoyance toward the marking situation. You were irritable, and easily provoked, so you argued with Jihoon over nothing, and that led to angry sex. Which was definitely fun but…were you marked? No. No, you were not.

“What were we trying to solve again?” Jihoon mumbled tiredly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

You let out a deep sigh, “You didn’t make the bed this morning.”

“Oh yeah…” he hummed, not opening his eyes as his arm draped over your waist. “I’ll make the bed tomorrow.”

“Mm…” you rolled your eyes, but let the whole thing go.

You were too stubborn to tell Jihoon to mark you. You wanted it to be like everyone else where the wolf decided to mark you; you wanted him to ask you. It just didn’t seem good enough if you had to ask him. It wasn’t the same. It wouldn’t feel like he wanted to do it, it would feel like he just did it because you did. But you wanted him to want you.

Once you knew your mate had fallen asleep, you slid out of bed and put on some clothes before going to find the one person you felt like you could tell this to: Kira. While the two of you weren’t as close as you used to be due to the amount of people in the house with you, she was still your best friend, and you trusted her. You knew she would be able to help, and maybe even Hansol, too.

“_____, you have to just tell him how you feel,” she shrugged when you had explained the situation to her. “I know the wolves know us really well, but he’s not a mind reader. If you don’t tell if what you want, it won’t happen.”

“You didn’t have to tell Hansol,” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest.

The younger girl just shrugged, “I also almost died – and no, that’s not me telling you to go get yourself killed. That already happened to you once, and we don’t need a repeat.”

“And yet, even then, he didn’t mark me…” you grumbled.

“Dude, I don’t know if you noticed this,” Kira began, “but Jihoon’s kind of, uh…not as affectionate and in-touch with his emotions as some of the others. He probably doesn’t realize how big of a deal this is to you, and he’s probably too nervous to ask.”

Jihoon had never come across as nervous to you. Even the first time you two had a real conversation, he had fucked you in a closet that same day. He was always the one up for challenges, and never backed down to anybody. How could he be nervous?

Then again, he wasn’t really affectionate toward anybody but you. Maybe all of this did have to do with him being scared to show that kind of affection. But still, you were his mate!

But you were too stubborn to tell him how you felt. You wanted him to just do it, but even when a week passed, he still hadn’t. After you got home from an especially stressful day of classes, all you wanted was to avoid everybody – specifically the marked mates – and go to your room.

However, the exact opposite happened as you walked passed the living room.

“Hey, _____!” Faye called, making you stop and back up to look at her.

She was sitting on the couch with a blushing Yerin beside her. Most of the pack was gathered there as they studied, watched TV, or did their homework – including Jihoon, who smiled at you when he looked up from his textbook.

“Guess what? Seokmin finally marked Yerin!” Faye cheered.

“Faye!” Kira groaned before quickly saying things to her in English that you didn’t understand.

Your blood boiled. Even the quietest, shyest mate got marked before you. This was the last straw.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you burst, tossing your hands in the air, and making Yerin shrink back into Faye. “This is bullshit!”

You threw your motorcycle helmet on the ground before stomping down the hall and up the stairs. The pack heard the door slam shut, shaking some of the frames on the walls as they just sat in stunned silence.

“What was that?” Seungcheol wondered, looking at Jihoon for an answer.

But he was just as confused as everybody else. “I…have no idea…”

The shorter wolf stood up from the floor and went to go find you, grabbing your helmet on the way. He opened the bedroom door to find you pacing the room, your face red with anger. You didn’t even look at him as he entered, so he just closed the door before placing your helmet on one of the nightstands.

“_____,” his voice was soft and quiet as he watched you seethe, “what’s wrong?”

“Why the fuck is everybody else getting marked?!” you demanded, continuing to pace, and not even sparing Jihoon a glance. “Like, Yerin? Seriously?! Ugh, Jesus Christ!”

“You…don’t want them to get marked?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. “_____, it’s how werewolves show who belongs to them.”

You stopped, slowly turning to look at Jihoon. You were fuming at this point. He even knew why werewolves marked their mates, and yet he still never marked you. He didn’t get it at all.

“How dense can you be?” you asked slowly, your voice getting louder with every word.

Jihoon, like you, got easily worked-up, so your words angered him, “Okay, what the fuck is your problem?”

“You. Never. Marked. Me,” you stated, walking toward him, and poking his chest with each emphasized word. “I’ve waited for months. So what does that mean, huh? Do I not belong to you?”

“You do belong to me!” Jihoon insisted, running both hands through his hair and tugging out of frustration.

You pretended to search your skin for marks that you knew didn’t exist, all except one, “Huh, I don’t appear to have your mark on me, so by werewolf logic, I guess I don’t belong to you. The only mark I have, is this!”

You pointed sharply to your face where Jinsoo’s claw marks were forever scarred into your skin. Jihoon’s chest rumbled with a low growl as his eyes started to dot red, already knowing where this was going.

“Guess that still makes me Jinsoo’s!” you smiled sarcastically, throwing your hands out to the side. “My real mate refuses to mark me, so this is all I have! I guess I--”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Jihoon had you pressed up against the wall so quickly that it almost knocked the wind out of you. His hand was placed over your mouth as his red eyes glared at you.

“Do I need to prove that you belong to me?” he asked, his voice low and threatening as his free hand slid from your shoulder, down your body to your jeans to undo them. “Just like the first time, huh? Guess you didn’t learn then.”

His hand slipped into your jeans, pressing a finger to your clothed clit and quickly rubbing circles. You suppressed a quiet moan, but Jihoon could tell by the way your hands balled into fists at your side that he was doing something good. He smirked, releasing your mouth in exchange for lightly holding your neck.

Your words had his instincts to claim you running wild, causing his fangs to elongate already. All he wanted to do was mark that pretty neck of yours, but he’d save that one for last.

“If you want to be marked,” he began in a rough voice, moving both of his hands to take off your shirt, “then you’ll get marked.”

You pouted at the loss of contact, but your breathing hitched as soon as you felt his sharp canines grazing against your newly exposed skin. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. His fangs moved down your neck, across your collarbones, down to your cleavage. As he sank his teeth into your flesh, one hand went back down the front of your jeans to massage the bundle of nerves, slightly distracting you from the burning pain the mark caused you.

“Ah--! Jihoon!” you gasped, biting down on your lower lip as the pain mixed with the pleasure his fingers provided you.

His warm tongue swiped over the mark, helping the healing process. But despite the soft gesture, Jihoon suddenly pull you away from the wall and pushed you onto the bed, causing you to land on your back before bouncing a few times. He took off his shirt and jeans as he strode over to you, licking his lips as his red eyes raked your body.

“Take your jeans off,” he demanded, undoing his belt.

“Can’t you--”

“Now.”

Quickly, you started pushing your jeans down before kicking them off your legs and onto the floor. That left you in your bra and underwear, most of your body exposed to your mate who was staring at you like a full-course meal. Through his red boxers, you could see the outline of his growing erection as he smelled the arousal pooling between your legs.

Jihoon wasted no time removing your panties that were starting to soak through before he was nudging your legs apart. He settled in the space between them, dipping his head down to kiss up the inside of one leg. His touch left goosebumps and made you shiver, and he took notice of that – nothing ever went unnoticed by him.

“When I’m done with you,” he began between soft kisses as his hand trailed up the inside of your other leg, “there will be no doubt in anybody’s mind of who you belong to.”

His fingers ghosted over your center as his lips got closer and closer to your inner thighs. As he inserted a finger into you, he let his sharp teeth graze against your skin once again. You let out a soft sigh, your eyes falling closed to enjoy the feeling.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered sharply.

Without hesitation, your eyes flew open, and you stared back at your mate who was already intently watching your face for any signs of discomfort or otherwise.

“Keep them on me the whole time,” he told you, his tone softer this time, but his stare was just as intense as it was before.

As soon as his ministrations lulled you into the security of pleasure, he let his teeth bite into the soft flesh of your thigh, causing you to gasp and grip is hair tightly, “Fuck! Jihoon!”

He pulled his mouth off of you, letting his tongue drag over the wound? “Did that hurt?”

You nodded, “No shit.”

He smirked, rolling his red eyes as he let his mouth drift toward where his hand was, “Yeah, that’s what happens.”

Jihoon’s lips attached to your clit, sucking harshly as his digit continued to thrust in and out of you, curling just how he knew you liked it. Your hands tugged at his hair as you struggled to keep your eyes on him, wanting nothing more than to drop your head back and moan out his name.

His eyes stayed trained on you, making sure you obeyed him. The last thing you’d want to do was piss of a werewolf that was already angry, and both of you knew that. Even you weren’t cocky enough to test Jihoon when he was actually angry.

His finger pulled out of you before he slid two in instead, curling them the same as he had before, and making you let out a loud groan. He smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing you. His chest rumbled, happy knowing he was the cause of making you turn to putty right before his very eyes.

As he brought you to your first orgasm, he let his fangs drag along your right hip, watching as you squirmed and fought to keep your eyes open. He growled softly as your moans got higher in pitch, and your hips rocked against his fingers. His thumb took over where his mouth had been as pleasure washed over you, causing you to groan out Jihoon’s name. He let his fangs pierce the skin of your hip, and you finally let your head drop back as your eyes closed in ecstasy.

Jihoon smirked, watching you come down from your high as his tongue lazily dragged over your newest mark, “You listened to me pretty well, huh? I guess you should get a reward for it.”

“Like what?” you wondered breathlessly, lifting your head just in time to see Jihoon stick his fingers in his mouth, licking your orgasm from them.

“Get on all fours, babe,” he smirked, playfully smacking your outer thigh.

You did as told, flipping over and sitting on your hands and knees. Jihoon tugged his boxers down, letting them settle at his knees. He gripped his fully-erect member in one hand while his other settled on your marked him as he lined himself up with your entrance. He teased your folds, smirking as he bit his lip when he heard your soft whimpers. Finally, he pushed into you, letting out a low groan of his own.

Jihoon gripped your hips as he slowly pulled back before snapping back in, “Fuck, you feel so tight.”

He didn’t give either of you time to adjust as he sat a fast pace for his thrusts, causing you to reach up for the headboard instead of gripping the blankets under you. One of Jihoon’s hands trailed up your back before it found its way to your hair, holding a large portion in his hand and tugging you backward toward him.

You reached back with one arm as your head laid back on his shoulder, your hands running through his soft hair. He used this opportunity to bite into your bicep, a growl ripping through his chest as you clenched around him due to the sharp pain. His other hand had wrapped around you, toying with your clit while keeping your back flush against his front.

“So tell me,” Jihoon began huskily after he licked over your wound, “do you think you know who you belong to now?”

“Y-yeah…” you nodded weakly, your eyes closing as the coil in your stomach tightened.

“I think you’ll need one more just to be sure,” he smirked, his lips moving right by his ear, his words whispered. “But you’ll have to cum for me to give it to you. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nodded, whimpering as your orgasm was building quickly. Jihoon quickened his pace, letting his fangs scrape lightly across the skin of your neck and shoulder as he waited for the perfect time to bite. He could feel your thighs shaking, and he knew it would only take a few more good thrusts until you finally came undone in his arms.

Your toes curled as your jaw went slack, moaning out Jihoon’s name like a mantra. He bit into where your shoulder met your neck, causing the wave of pleasure to intensify. Your toes curled while your nails dug into his arms that held you up. Then he twitched inside you and released, groaning into your neck as his tongue lapped over the mark.

Instead of just letting you go so you could fall face-first into the pillows, he carefully pulled out – your body was incredibly sore from all the marks – and laid you down on your back. He sat on his knees, looking down at you as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Before, when you yelled at me about the bed being made…” he began slowly.

You shook your head while you tried to catch your breath. He smirked, rolling his eyes. He knew you weren’t the type to get mad about the bed being made. He also knew you were too stubborn to ever outright ask him to mark you.

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” he chuckled, laying down on his side and wrapping his arms around you. With a kiss to the top of your head, he smiled. “Don’t ever change.”

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