#more work to correct them than to just be pleasant and “let it slide” and yet she is the one who cant drop the fact that i got her non

[oshawatt4t]

.

[pedgito]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. i ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: something that is desired all the more because it is not allowed—you find yourself torn between the idea that even though eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.

cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), background ronance, max is readers bestfriend, eddie likes to wear his hair up for class and hates being formal, bratty!reader (sorta), angsty touches, a smutty cliffhanger, ect & lots more to come (pun intended)

word count: 11.6k - part two, part three, part four

The campus was huge and crowded and everything you hated all wrapped into one—but you couldn’t beat the view, the pleasant Indians weather, and all the amazing classes the college had to offer. And normally, first days would be terrifying, crippling your anxiety, but there was nothing but excitement; for now, at least. 

Most of your morning was spent combing through syllabuses and trying to find your classes, which is mostly your own fault, deciding on a major so vastly different from your main course work—by the time afternoon rolls around, you’re forced to walk clear across campus, nearly ten minutes late to your class and faced with a surprisingly unirritated gentleman, who’s three seconds away from shutting the door closed indefinitely.

The man steals a glance at his watch, arm twitching slightly to force his sleeve back. His eyes glance up to you for a moment and back down, “Not a great way to start off your first day,” He comments cooly, face void of any emotion, “is this gonna be a habit?”

“No—god, no,” You respond, slightly out of breath, hand clutching the strap of your book bag, “I’m just getting used to where everything’s at—I didn’t get a chance to visit the campus earlier, I have no idea where anything is or—“

“It’s fine,” He assures, beckoning you into the classroom, surprisingly full, forcing you to the front row, positioned almost directly in front of his desk—this was the beginning of your nightmare, “let’s just be mindful of time, yeah?”

Not that Eddie has ever been punctual a day in his life. But, he’s learned that being a hard-ass is more effective than not giving a shit at all, especially when it comes to his students. 

“Yeah—yes, I promise.” You swear, forcing a thin smile before making an immediate line for your desk, hoping that the further you sink, the more unnoticed you’ll be. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case. 

The loud slide of the chalk against the chalkboard as he writes his name across the green slab is defeating, most of the class watching in fearful silence—like there was some impending doom about to descend upon them. 

“Uh, sir—“ You can see him visibly tense at the word, “are we going to be learning how to play any instruments in this class?” The voice comes from a boy who seems naturally quiet and more reserved, mortified by the fact that he even found the courage to raise his hand and ask a question. 

There’s a small roar of laughter from the others, but you look along stoically, watching his face upturn slightly. 

“Don’t call me, sir—please,” He laughs lightly, “it makes me feel old.”

“Professor Munson,” He corrects himself, “sorry.”

“You’re fine,” He assures, “and look—this isn’t an intro to music, it’s intro to musical therapy. We’re not just studying instruments and music, we’re also studying behaviors, the mind, how all of this stuff connects and affects people’s thought process and aiding certain struggles they may have.”

His way of talking is animated and refreshing, a stark change from the usual monotone professors you’ve run into all morning. 

“So, if you’re just expecting to learn how to play the piano or something, this class probably isn’t for you,” He explains, eyeing down about a quarter of the class that makes a collective groan, “hey—I’m just being honest.”

And you knew you wouldn’t see half of those people in a week, jumping at the first chance to transfer, but you couldn’t help being intrigued. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice for a major, but it took you by surprise; your love for psychology and mind studies mixed with your love of music, it seemed like the perfect storm. Plus, your professor wasn’t the worst person in the world—yet. 

He easily snaps open the cuff links to his sleeves, rolling them halfway up his arm, revealing a rather striking depiction of bats, swarming around the expanse of his forearm. 

He definitely seemed like a tattoo guy, but it was still odd to see so openly—his feet tap together as he takes a seat on the end of his desk, scanning the room. You can’t help but notice his lopsided tie, wanting so desperately to fix it—it was bound to drive you nuts. 

“It’s probably best to get most of your question out of the way today,” He says, “so, shoot them at me while you have the opportunity.”

A few hands fly up, he points off to your right, a couple rows behind you. 

“So—are you a therapist?” 

He snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head, “No—I don’t have all the proper certifications, but I assist therapist a lot when they’re looking into doing stuff related to musical therapy. I know enough to get by.” 

The smile he flashes leads you to believe that he’s trying to be humble. 

“Do you play any instruments?” Another student asks freely, the heads of the rest of the class snapping in their direction.

“A few,” He answers, hand waving about in a noncommittal manner, “mostly just guitar.”

He adjusts his tie again, even more lopsided now and you can’t help but stare it down, focused on nothing but the black, shiny material of it—Eddie clears his throat softly, catching your attention.

He’s staring right at you, caught red-handed—quick, think of something—

“Who do you usually work with?” You ask suddenly, “In your line of work, I mean.”

Outside of being a professor, obviously. 

Another laugh, more subdued. “Veterans, mostly, and a lot of children.” 

Eddie claps his hands together very suddenly, startling most of the class, including yourself. “Anyways, let’s go over the syllabus so there’s no confusion—I don’t need you guys bugging me outside of my office hours, as much as I love to teach.”

You sense another jab coming, but it doesn’t.

The syllabus review is a breeze, setting you up for what most of the semester entails, including when he was available—again, making it very clear that he wasn’t available outside of office hours. 

And then he’s adjusting the damn tie again, almost like it’s wringing his neck to death. By the time class ends, he dismisses everyone with a simple wave, a few students lingering around their desks, debating on whether they should drop the class or not. 

The voice that trails from the front of the classroom as you take a step down catches your attention, pulling your head up to look at the culprit. “Staying or dropping?” He asks.

Professor Munson. It felt weird and unnatural as it rolled around in your mind, still not falling from your tongue. 

“Staying,” You answer surely, “I knew what this class was before I signed up—I’m not about playing roulette with taking a college class.”

“Fair enough.” He’s leaning against his desk again, hands shoved into his slack pockets, shiny, gold watch resting on his wrist, and you can’t take it anymore, the frustration boiling from your chest

“Your tie,” You say abruptly, pointing at the material, “It’s crooked.”

Really fucking crooked. 

He takes a glance down, finger slipping in the space between his tie and neck, pulling at the offense piece of clothing, loosening it until it’s snapping away.

He balls up the tie and tosses it behind me, landing messily on his desk. “I never wear those after the first day—hate them. They’re so stupid.” 

“Or, you just don’t know how to tie a tie.” You point on, mouth speaking before your brain can catch up—realizing much too late that this was your professor, not a friend. 

Eddie scoffs mockingly, “And I’m sure you do.” He counters, watching your face drop slightly.

You did, actually—but that wasn’t the point. 

“No one ever taught me.” He tells you, “So I’m wingin’ it.” 

You nod thoughtfully, surprised at how quickly you managed to embarrass yourself. “Oh.” You say simply, it’s all you can manage. 

You save yourself for further humiliation by offering a wave of goodbye, breaking the uncomfortable tension that had grown between you both, excusing yourself immediately.

And if that was horrible enough, your night would be even worse. 

☆.｡.:*

“The Hideout?” You ask curiously, twisting the flyer in your hand, “That place is still open?

Max snatches the paper from your hand, shoving it into the pocket of her jacket, protecting her from the biting cold of wind—the beginnings of Hawkins autumn weather creeping up on you. 

It didn’t help that you were barely covered from the waist down, skirt leaving little to imagine as the slit ran high up your thigh, thankfully the long sleeve top you wore was enough to save your upper extremities. 

“Nancy and Robin swear by that place—plus, they’ll be pissed if you don’t go.” Max explains in her usual ‘could care less’ tone.

The only reason she was going was because of Lucas—a boy she’d met during her first class that day, who she also invited out, despite barely knowing. You couldn’t blame her, though. Max could handle herself well enough, that was for sure. 

The drive is long, further out of town than you expect—hidden on some rundown road on an empty corner, bare except for the small bar, yet the place was packed with cars. 

“Okay, maybe this place isn’t as rundown as I remember,” You take note of, “or everyone really wanted to get drunk tonight.”

Either way, you were definitely heading toward the latter option, following closely after Max. It doesn’t take long for Max to be pulled away though, quickly distracted by the only reason she came here, abandoning you. 

“Have fun,” You remind her, “seriously.” 

You could take care of yourself, settling up at one of the empty tables before the stage, perched on the uncomfortably tall seat, ordering yourself a quick drink as a server passes you. 

“Hey!” A perked up voice yells out from behind you, arms wrapping around in a gentle hug—no one had the nerve besides Robin, who quickly caught you in a fuller hug as you turned to face her. “How have you been? Where’s Max?”

“She’s busy,” You laugh, giving her a pointed look, which she catches on quickly. “Where’s Nance?”

“Right here,” Her delicate voice peaks out from behind Robin, watching as her hand sneaks into Nancy’s, squeezing firmly. 

You smile to yourself, but Robin sees it, shoving you an annoyed look. 

At least those two finally figured it out—almost ten years later. 

“So, you two know who’s playing tonight?” You ask curiously, sipping on the beer that the server passes to you on their way through the crowd. 

“Yeah, he’s an old friend—we haven’t seen him in a while, though.” They both frown at the mention of it, sharing a quiet glance. “We should’ve invited Steve, Nance.” 

“He never wants to leave the house, you know that.” Nancy adds, “His kids keep him busy enough.”

And it seemed like Steve got the life he always wanted, for the most part—but it’s still somber to think about, wishing just as badly that you could’ve seen him once more. 

“Maybe next time.” You offer, and both of them smile. 

“I’ll have to remind him to invite you to his littlest’s party in a couple months,” Nancy says, “he misses you.” 

The feedback startled all of you, pulling you from the conversation and toward the stage, light dimly over the center. The lights around the bar dimmed in contrast, adjusting everyone toward the men gathering in their places on stage.

You squinted carefully, watching the guitarist adjust the microphone, pulling it up to his height. His hair was long, unruly, and obscuring his face as he leaned forward, speaking into the microphone. 

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He asks with a decent amount of enthusiasm, receiving a hearty applause in return. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

The name blanks in your mind, not ringing any immediate bells. 

It was definitely a crowd full of fans—or family, at least. They excitement was palpable, everyone leaning on the edge of their seats.

“This is our first show in a couple years, so go easy on us.” He laughs, head flicking up to move the hair out of his face—again, he spots you almost instantly. 

The intake of breath is involuntarily, getting caught in your throat. The blush that creeps up your cheeks is hot and burning, noticeable from a mile away.

Eddie fucking Munson, your college professor—of all the chances and fate in the world this is how your night was going to go?

Eddie clears his throat, immediately averting his gaze. “We’re just doing cover songs tonight—so if you’ve got a request, send it through Gareth.” He instructs, jerking his head over his shoulder. 

And despite how mortifying this all feels, Eddie plays his heart out; you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a person who expresses himself through his body and his music, clearly—thrashing wildly and putting every movement he can into his playing, bouncing on his feet. He can’t be bothered to stay still, which is a complete difference from his classroom demeanor.

From what you’ve seen, at least. 

“You good?” Robin asks, nothing the ghostly look on your face.

“Yeahyeah, uh—“ You reply distantly, “The lead looked familiar, but I think it’s a coincidence.” 

One hell of a fucking coincidence. 

“Eddie?” They both ask simultaneously, “There’s no way.” 

Eddie Munson. Again, your professor—but also, a friend of a friend, and a complete fucking stranger otherwise. You must’ve pissed someone off well enough down the line to end up in this position; the biggest dose of karma you’ve ever felt. 

“Like I said—it’s probably a coincidence.” You assure them, eyes still locked on him. 

“Yeah—I don’t think we started hanging out with him until after you moved schools.” Nancy supplies, further attempting to assure you.

Eddie catches another glance at you and you can’t help but down the bottle of beer in one go, immediately leaving your seat to ask for another, leaving your friends to congregate at the table.

The song ends abruptly, falling off of a long guitar solo, and you can’t even dare to look in that direction, faced shoved into the drink you gripped in your hand. 

“Come here, come here,” You hear Robin call from behind you, but you know it’s not for you, another rumbling voice slipping through the many others, a weak protest, “Stop being like that.”

There really was no arguing with Robin and Eddie was smart to keep quiet, following her obediently to the bar. The hand that clasps your shoulder is light and gentle and Nancy shoots you an apologetic look as you look behind you.

“Ringin’ any bells now?” Robin asks playfully, holding her hand up under his face, like he was on display. Eddie makes a face, side eyeing her affectionately. 

“No, sorry,” You lie easily, shrugging him off. Eddie seems to relax at that, half-expecting you to out both him and yourself—not that there was anything wrong, it was just another freaky coincidence, “What’s his name again?”

And really, it’s just to poke fun, the slight buzz creeping into your system. 

“Eddie Munson,” Nancy replies, glancing between the both of you, “Edward, if that helps.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, hand held up in desperation as he called out for a drink over your shoulder, reaching around you to grab the bottle. You visibly tense at the proximity and he notices, still, he doesn’t try to move away. 

This was too weird.

“Nope, still nothing.” You tell them, sticking to your story. 

Robin shrugs, “Well, I should probably explain—Nancy used to babysit her when she was younger, her and Max and all those crazy little kids that we always told you about—“

It made you wince; babysitter, Nancy, kids. It was the worst sequence of words that could’ve been spoken in history, to your professor, in the middle of a bar, that he was also playing at. 

“Robin,” You warn, “I’m sure he doesn’t care.”

“Nah,” Eddie shrugs, leaned beside you against the bar, metal chain clinking against the counter-top, lifting the beer to his lips leisurely, “It’s nice to meet you.”

And the smile seems forced, but his voice is steady, easy—you almost believe him.

But, then Nancy and Robin are pulled off in a different direction, catching up with another small group of friends and Eddie is staring at you.

And not secretly—very, very openly. 

“I swear I didn’t—“ You start.

“I don’t usually,” He interrupts.

You both take a hard stop, looking each other down. 

“You first,” He instructs, bring the drink to his lips once more, “then I’ll go.”

“I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” You explain, “otherwise I would’ve skipped out.”

He wants to ask why, but the answer seems obvious—no one wants to see their teacher outside of school. 

“I don’t usually make a habit of letting my students see me like this.” He motions to his get-up, hair loose and clothes even looser, aside from the obviously homemade jacket he wore, patches hand stitched and worn at the seams, but the weirdest part of it all—the ripped jeans. It felt out of place for someone nearing their thirties. He catches your gaze, the judgement evident. “My point exactly.”

“So, that’s why you don’t know how to tie a tie.” You challenge, taking a long sip of beer, eyebrow quirked in amusement as you swallow, cheeks puffed out by the liquid. 

He scoffs softly, amused at your comeback. “We shouldn’t even be talking right now, you know that?” He points out, yet he hasn’t moved an inch, still close enough that if you decided to separate your thighs, he’d fit perfectly.

You hum quietly, “Yet, you’re still here.” Another beer down, another slipped into your hand like clockwork, throwing it back easily. “So, who’s fault is that?”

Him being the responsible adult and all, not that it really mattered here. This would be a level playing field outside of any other circumstance. 

“Wait—can I ask a personal question?” And maybe it was the alcohol talking. 

“No—“ He answers quickly, but your brain bypasses it.

“How old are you?” You ask curiously, “You look too young to be a professor.”

Eddie looks stunned, affected by your forwardness, but he takes it in stride. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment—I’m twenty nine, a couple years older than Nancy and Robin.”

You don’t press on the additional information, but nod thoughtfully, taking another quick sip of your beer.

“Sorry—it was bugging me. I have a bad problem with filtering my thoughts.” You admit sheepishly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, fiddling with the flimsy zipper on your skirt. 

“Clearly,” Eddie laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly, stopping just as his lips pressed the rim, “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”

“Are you going to kick me out if I’m not?” You challenge playfully, Eddie doesn’t bite, looking you down accusingly.

It was as if he suddenly shifted back into teacher mode, judging your choices and feeling the need to scold you.

“I’m twenty one,” You tell him, “don’t have a fucking stroke over it.”

You don’t know why Eddie’s eyes shift, scanning full body, like he’s trying to take all of you in—both of your contrasting styles outside of school are a welcomed surprise; he doesn’t really expect it from you. But, you could say the same for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” He assures you, nursing the beer near his mouth, forearms leaned against the bar now as he looks toward you, eyes catching the way your fingers fiddled with the label on the bottle, “you cold?”

Your leg crosses over the other, goosebumps riddling your skin—it’s like he’s a mind reader, the entrance door of the bar swinging open, a cold blast of air spreading throughout. “Not really.” You lie, gripping the end of your skirt to shift it down. 

You could’ve been more practical, shown up in jeans and some worn out band shirt, but you wanted to look nice—feel cute and dressed up for once, was that a crime? 

“Hey, there you are,” Max calls from behind you, scattering toward you with a wide-eyed Lucas in tow, “so you met Eddie?”

You turn in your seat, staring the fiery redhead down, a smile plastered on her freckle covered face. 

“You too?” You ask incredulously, glancing toward Eddie, who seemed rather unfazed by it all now. “What the hell?”

“He used to live across from me, back in high school,” Max explains, which makes sense.

You moved after middle school, leaving most of Hawkins in your rear view, aside from the occasional letters to Max—both of you swore that despite the distance, college was your nonnegotiable; both of you applied, both of you got accepted, it was some sort of divine miracle, but neither of you questioned it.

“Small world,” Eddie shrugs from beside you, finishing off the last sip of his beer, “you staying out of trouble, Red?”

“Probably not,” She replies honestly, before turning to you sheepishly, “—do you think Robin will give you a ride home?”

“Max,” You groan, her look switching from hesitant to pleading, “fine—whatever, I’ll talk to Robin.”

“I love you,” She says endearingly, wrapping you into a quick forceful hug, nearly knocking you from your chair, “I owe you one.” 

“Uh huh,” You reply sarcastically, waving her away, “See you tomorrow.”

When you turn, Eddie is slapping a fresh bill on the counter-top, returning his chained wallet back to his pocket.

 “I guess I’ll be seeing you Monday.”

Saying it makes it even weirder. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” You assure him, seeing the way his eyes catch yours, almost thankful. He doesn’t have to say it—he didn’t take you for the type to brag, but still, it’s a comforting confession. “I promise.”

The last part feels like too much, but Eddie smiles regardless, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, preparing for the crisp, cold air that awaits him.

Robin, find Robin. Your brain scrambled, searching around for your friend—or Nancy, but neither of them are anywhere inside of the bar. 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding. 

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks softly, pulling the hair caught under the lapel of his jacket.

“I think they left,” You frown slightly, preparing yourself to walk several blocks until the nearest bus station, feet already sore and achy from the uncomfortable heels you wore, “Robin and Nance.”

And Eddie has the internal battle with himself for at least half a minute, weighing the odds of how uncomfortable this could be, or how creepy it may come off, but he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry—he wasn’t raised that way.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks suddenly, swinging his keys into his palm.

“Huh?” There was no way you were taking a ride from your teacher, of all people. “—I’m fine, really. I just need to walk far enough to the bus stop.” 

“In those?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring down at the heels that hugged your feet like a vice grip, already sore from only a couple hours of use. “It’s not a big deal—are you going back to campus?”

You nod hesitantly.

Eddie motions toward the door and you follow obediently—your feet could thank you later. You knew there was no harm in a ride home, either, Eddie was far from the normal sketchy men around Hawkins, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like keeping a secret from your parents and doing something that had persistently told you not to, or how often the school system looked down on relations with staff outside of school, no matter the level or severity. It seemed that Eddie was hoping you’d keep this to yourself—he was counting on it.

☆.｡.:*

“Did you enjoy the music at least?” Eddie asks halfway through the drive, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other fishes for his pack of cigarettes; a bad habit he’d yet to break.

“I mean—they were cover songs,” You shrugged, “Metallica is alright, but I prefer Bon Jovi and Quiet Riot—“

“Are you shitting on Metallica, right now?” Eddie asks, shocked by the admission. He manages to wiggle a cigarette out with one hand, tossing the box toward the middle console, “Do you mind?”

Part of you wants to say yes, just to be difficult, but you shake your head. He flicks his lighter opening, lighting the end of the cigarette until it burns a bright amber, ashes falling from the tip.

“You dress like you’re stuck in the eighties, dude.” Eddie seems offended by the comment, but takes it in stride. 

“Says the lady who still listens to Bon Jovi.” Eddie sharks, pulling the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing from his nose as he breathes, “

You hate how nice it is to watch, his soft lips pursing into a tight line. One more hit at him and he’d probably fail you out of spite, but you do it anyway. 

“Says the guy still singing eighties cover songs.” Eddie winces at the jab, flicking away the ash from the cigarette, held out in the air as he searches for his retort.

“So you hated it?” Is all his brain can muster at a time like this, brain hazy from the amount of beers he consumed—you could say the same for yourself, the alcohol buzz is still ever apparent—you wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this while stone cold sober, that’s for sure.

“No,” You reply honestly. The music was good, the performance was even better, but still—it seemed he was searching for your approval, like it would make all the difference, “but it’s the mid nineties, you need to get with the times.”

Eddie scoffs offensively, a few more puffs before he’s rubbing the cigarette to its untimely demise, pulling into the quiet campus. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” He says, coming to a stop, “—I hope this is close enough, the last thing I need is someone catching me dropping you off.”

Then he shouldn’t have offered a ride, which was his first mistake of many. 

It’s offensive how handsome he looks under the dim lights radiating from the inside of his van—an odd choice for a teacher of his salary, but it still makes sense, somehow. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir.” You retort, throwing the last bit in for fun—he tenses again, visibly. He doesn’t correct you, though, which is even more difficult to understand.

He offers a simple wave, friendly and polite, then he’s gone and halfway across the campus before you can even process what happened. 

It also doesn’t help that the first thing you see in your dreams that night is his face—ungodly in the way he worshiped your body, from head to toe; it was definitely the alcohol talking. 

☆.｡.:*

Monday drags more than you expect, having nursed your hangover during the weekend, it felt like an aftershock was trying to overtake you, your focus lacking. It wasn’t unlike you. 

You replay the conversation with Eddie in your head a few times that weekend, realizing that even through your drunken haze, Eddie was not attempting to be teacherly toward you—he was friendly, a natural conversationalist, it felt wrong. 

It felt even worse when you fell asleep, his head stuck between your thighs as you dreamed that night, “She’s so pretty,” His voice is faded, muffled—like he’s stuck in a tunnel and too far away, “fucking soaking wet, too.” 

And it feels too real as he licks a broad stripe up your cunt, moaning obscenely as his face is coated in your wetness, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit—it’s too much for you to process. 

“Good afternoon,” Eddie’s voice carries through the door to his classroom, satchel and coffee in hand, looking just as worse for wear. His hair is tied back in a loose bun, no tie today, and his slacks look like they’re been worn for a week straight, wrinkles and all, “nice to see the class has downsized.”

It has, nearly half of the original class is gone—which really, it was better for you. You couldn’t focus in large classes and it felt less personal, more disconnected than you liked.

Eddie tries desperately to keep his energy up during the duration of the lesson, but he’s lacking on all fronts—maybe he had a rough weekend? 

When he hands out the first assignment near the end of class, he stops by your desk, leaning on the railing to speak to the entirety of the class, “And don’t freak out—this is just a basis to see where you heads are at in terms of what music you like, how it makes you feel, it’s just a soft introduction into some of the stuff we’ll be covering over the semester.”

It’s a list of various songs, bands, genres—a mix of things dating back to the early fifties, up until more recently. “Go out, rent some of this if you’ve never heard of it, and write what you feel—that’s it. Easy enough?” 

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge you most of the class, which is expected, but disappointing. He seems preoccupied, distracted, clearly bothered by something. But, it wasn’t your problem—the only focus you had now was your course work, which was the first thing you started on that night; a very giddy Max rummaging through your dorm room as background noise, so disorganized it could drive you insane. 

“He drove you here?” She asks.

“Yes—but you can’t say anything, Max. I’m serious.” 

You didn’t have anything to worry about, you knew that.

“I didn’t even know he taught here—or that he was even a professor. I mean, I know he finally graduated but—“

“Finally?” You ask curiously, swiveling in your chair to face her fully, interest fully piqued.

“He had a rough time in high school—he didn’t graduate until he was twenty, I think.” She explains, busy hands now stopped in their tracks. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your eyebrows raise in question, hoping Max would spill everything she knew—you couldn’t help but be curious about him, even if he was your professor.

“He probably doesn’t even know I go here,” She laughs slightly, “His mom and dad were never in the picture, though—at least I never saw them, it’s always been him and his uncle. He hung out with Nancy, Steve, and Robin a lot—closer to when he was graduating, they’ve stayed good friends, I guess.”

You nod slowly, absorbing the information.

“Is he mean?” Max asks randomly and you almost laugh, “My professors are the worst.”

“He’s fine,” You shrug, “It’s kinda nice that he’s not such a dick, you know?”

“What does he teach again?” 

“Musical therapy?” You respond, wondering if that would surface any other tidbits of information.

“Oh—that kinda makes sense. He was always listening to music, then he just disappeared after graduation, but his uncle always talked about how he was helping people, doing something he really liked—I just never bothered him about it.”

There’s a long silence before Max can’t help herself, perching herself on the surface closest to you, pens scrambling to the floor as she takes a seat on the edge of your shared desk. 

“What did you guys talk about?”

“The weather,” You say flatly, not receiving any type of reaction from her, “—-just music, that’s it.”

“But, babe, you love music.” Max reminds, like it wasn’t painfully obvious. 

“And—he’s my professor, it’s fucking weird.” You explain, but even Max doesn’t believe you. “What—why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You two are so similar,” She laughs, “It’s freaky.”

“Maxine—what are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” She shrugs, hoping from the desk, “—remember that I’ll be your maid of honor at the wedding, though. We pinky swore.” 

“He’s my professor, Max.” You stress again, Max smiles wide, annoying you further.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?” Max asks, realizing that you’d used the same playful jab at him the night before.

“What?” The coincidence was uncanny.

“Eddie used to tell me that whenever I tried to justify doing something I wasn’t supposed to—I’ve grown, obviously,” That’s not entirely believable, but you keep your mouth shut, “the saying stuck with me—it’s kinda fun to use.”

“Whatever—did you get the music I asked about?” You ask, impatiently switching the topic to something less scandalous.

“Everything was spoken for,” Max explains, trying to let you down gently, “I really tried—but I guess everyone in that class had the same idea on where to go, unless you want to take a trip to the store and buy them—“

And it dawns on you, Eddie must have some sort of music collection, “Wait—what time is it?”

Max takes a quick glimpse at the alarm clock on her nightstand, “A quarter past five, why?”

Still open for office hours—you prayed silently, despite your lack of religion, hoping that he was still in his classroom.

“Give me a ride.” 

Max doesn’t question it, being the best friend she is. 

☆.｡.:*

“I’m busy,” He says before you can even knock on the door, your loud ascending footsteps giving you away, “come back in the morning.”

You peek through the window of the door anyways, seeing a perfectly relaxed Eddie reclined at his desk, feet propped up as he jotted something down in a book, tongue poked out in focus. 

“Uh Professor…Munson,” It felt foreign and weird, “I just had a question.” 

His demeanor changes on a dime at the sight of you, unbusying himself completely. It’s a little hysterical, but endearing nonetheless. It makes your stomach flutter at the sight, scrambling to button his shirt higher, seem more professional, not that you hadn’t already seen him outside of work.

The door creaks open, his head popping through as you back away, “What’s going on?” He asks, surprised that anyone would dare to bother him outside of normal class hours. It doesn’t take you long to realize that he only mentioned the office hours out of courtesy, he didn’t actually expect anyone to bother him. 

“I was trying to work on your assignment—“ His eyes softened, and it made you flinch, feeling exposed, “I don’t really have the money to buy any of the music and everything was already rented out—-so I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Oh,” He wasn’t sure what to expect but he finds himself opening the door wider, welcoming you inside, “Yeah—a few students raided my shelf before class was over but I’m sure there’s some left.”

“Thanks,” You reply shyly, squeezing beside him, watching as he lingered by the door still, hands shoved into fists in his pockets, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir—“

“You can call me Eddie—here, at least.” And that definitely doesn’t feel appropriate, but if he’s insisting, well…

“Sorry, it just feels…strange, I guess.” It’s not how you wanted to describe it, but it’s the only word that comes to mind. “I can’t imagine how weird it is running into your students outside of class.”

“Probably as weird as it feels running into your teacher,” He adds playfully, lightening the mood. It’s nice that he’s not so bothered by all of it, “Oh—I’ve got some Elvis in there, a lot of classic rock. I’m not sure about the newer stuff, though.”

“Max has some of it.” You comment without thinking, sifting through the box of music, picking and choosing as you went. 

“Max?”

“She’s—she’s my roommate here.” You answer quietly, unable to meet his eyes as he walks closer, leisurely making his way around his desk. 

“I guess I should’ve put that together,” He says, taking a moment to examine the sweater you’d shoved on, “You two share a closet?”

“Among other things.” You smile, grasping the stack of Cd's in your hand, “How did you know?” 

You share a glance down at the faded sweater, reading off the name of some random skate shop back in rural Hawkins, a place you’ve never stepped foot inside of.

“I got that for Red on her sixteenth birthday, before I left.”

Eddie’s frowning now, nearly unnoticeable, but you see the way his mouth creases, eyes turned down. “It’s her favorite,” You say, in an attempt to make the mood less dark, “but I always steal it from her—she’s let me take residency over it at this point.”

“It looks nice,” Eddie says suddenly, feeling the slip up as it slides off his tongue, rambling even further as he says, “on you—I mean, it’s a nice sweater—that’s why I bought it.”

You laugh softly, bottom lip jutting out as your mouth curls into a smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

He scratched at his temple, ringed finger shining against the light refracting from the lamp on his desk. You’ve never noticed it before—or them, since his hand was adorned with three, that you could see. 

“Hey, those are cool—“ You point out, finger pressed in the direction of his upheld hand. He stops, views his hand, almost like he’s forgotten he was wearing them, “I’ve noticed them before.”

“I try not to wear them during class hours, the administration thinks it’s unprofessional.” The nature of the rings, not the fact that he wore them—if he had a wedding ring it wouldn’t matter, but the thought of marriage made Eddie want to vomit. 

“Fuck ‘em.” You say crudely, shoulder shrugged In indifference. 

Eddie’s mouth hangs open slightly at the sudden outburst, amusement flooding his face, “I’m still your professor—probably should keep that type of language to a minimum.”

You snort at his indication that he had any type of hold over what you do—he couldn’t be further from the point. 

“Or what?” You say challengingly, “This isn’t high school—it’s not like you can give me detention or tell my parents.”

“I am the one handling your grades.” He counters, hip leaned against the edge of his desk. Your free hand travels to your waist, slipping underneath the sweater to rest against the skin.

“You don’t intimidate me—I hope you know that.” You remind him carefully, eyes narrowing in his direction. “The other’s are terrified of you, but that shit doesn’t work on me.”

And he should know better—you shouldn’t even be here and he definitely should be flirting with a student, if you could call it that. Was this flirting? Was this crossing the line? He’s studied body language for a long time, through the process of his treatment of people, and he can’t help but notice how relaxed you seem, almost enjoying the back and forth.

“You should go,” He says quickly, avoiding any further lines being blurred or crossed or misconstrued; you were his student and it was unprofessional, “my office hours are closing soon.”

“Uh huh.” You nod slowly, adjusting the stack of music under your arm, watching the way Eddie’s fingers drum against the desk impatiently, like he can’t wait to get you out of there. 

If he was really that bothered, he could’ve said something.

“Thanks again, professor.” You say with grandeur, motioning to the stack of Cd's, “It’s greatly appreciated.” 

Eddie tries to ignore the small sliver of skin that shows underneath your slightly raised top that was no longer obscured by your hand, almost like you’re doing it on purpose.

Which, yes, you absolutely were.

You slip by him silently, avoiding the way his eyes follow you. It felt predatorial, but not uncomfortable—and that’s what you hated about it. 

He didn’t look at you as a student—he looked at you like something else; you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

Eddie turns on the heels of his shoes, “I expect those back tomorrow,” He warns, but there’s no sense of actual ramifications behind it.

You don’t answer fully, a small nod that Eddie doesn’t quite notice. He grabs the sleeve of your sweater gently, his fingertips pressing against your covered arm. “I mean it.” 

You look at the hand that gripped your arm for far too long, Eddie still holding on just as hard. “I know.” You appease him, “And if I don’t—you know where to find me.”

The glance to your desk is silent, but done in unison.

“Wanna let go now, sir?”

Eddie hates the way his dick twitches under the material of his corduroy slacks, releasing the bunch of material from his grip. You half-expect him to scold you for the remark, but he’s speechless, for once in his life. 

“Sorry,” He apologizes, feeling like he’s made things uncomfortable, but it’s so far from that—he has no idea, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time, hopefully.” 

It’s just another playful comment, but it has Eddie gripping his thigh from the inside of his pocket, muscles tensed in frustration.

You leave with a wordless smile that’s burned into Eddie’s mind for the rest of mankind—and it’s definitely not the first thing he thinks about when he slips his boxers down his thighs that night, cock still half-hard from earlier in the evening.

☆.｡.:*

He becomes a permanent fixture in your dreams as the weeks grow on, unbeknownst to him—not that he can say much for himself either, annoyed by the finite nerve you have to walk into his classroom, skirt pulled halfway up your waist, ass barely peeking out of the bottom of the pleated material.

He knows it’s wrong and going against all of the rules set it place for this very reason, but he can’t help himself. So, he suffers in silence—not that it was anything new to him, he’s done it his entire life; under different circumstances and situations perhaps, but the basics of it still remained. 

“Fuck—spread your legs,” His voice is hushed, quiet against the skin of your leg as he sucks a deep purple mark into the skin, jerking at the touch of cold metal, the outside of his rings grazing your thighs, “wanna taste you.”

It feels too real—you toss and turn in your sleep restlessly most nights, dreaming about your professor with his hands around your thighs and his mouth buried deep into your cunt. 

And with little to no interaction during class, aside from the occasional glance in your direction, he kept his distance—which wasn’t a surprise, he had no idea.

He had no idea that his student was practically pining after him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen him outside of the classroom, dress downed and free of an inhibitions or rules; it was a special kind of torture. 

It’s late October when Eddie speaks to you directly, alone—he’s got most of the class set up on various different instruments of their choosing, allowing them to feel them out and play freely, and somehow—by some fucked up fate, you get stuck with a six string and not a clue how to play. 

Fake playing wasn’t working, Eddie could spot it from a mile away. You don’t chance the glance up at him, but the squeak of his shoes is enough warning, bracing for whatever remark was going to be sent your way. 

“Have you ever played before?” He says instead and your eyes immediately shoot up to him, all previous restraint thrown out the window. 

“No, not really.” You say truthfully, watching as Eddie pulled up a chair in front of you, facing the back of it in your direction, thigh swinging over the side—his jeans tightening with the action, along with your thighs. You really needed to get your shit together. 

“Here,” His hands come out to rest over yours, adjusting your left hand over the base of the guitar, your right hand around the neck, “This is A,” He presses your finger over the cord, instructing your other hand to strum.

It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar seems old—probably provided by the college rather than Eddie himself, “That’s good,” He praises calmly, “Now try playing an A sharp,” He guides your hand further down the neck, the warm, rough skin of his hand covering your own. He feels tough and worn and you notice the small cuts around his fingertips at this proximity, breath catching as his hand grasps around the wrist that was actively strumming the guitar, “it’s really complicated at first, there’s a lot to learn.”

“Clearly,” You say, forcing down the smile that threatened to break through, “how long have you played?”

He seems surprised that you cared or even tried to ask.

“Since I was about twelve, probably.” He answers honestly, “More than half my life.”

Eddie still hasn’t moved his hands, either—he can’t be bothered. It doesn’t look as incriminating as you thought, but still, you knew. He helps you play through a few more notes until he’s gotten you to the point of playing a small, five second tone—but it’s all you can really manage. 

“It takes a while.” He assures you, not that you wanted to pick up a guitar again after this.

“Why don’t you play?” You ask sweetly, smiling flashing with nothing but devious intent, handing the guitar over toward your professor. 

“Nono—I’m really not—“ He protests, setting the guitar back on its stand beside you.

“Not what? That good?” You ask curiously, he was worse at lying to himself than he was to you. 

“Are we forgetting how I saw you play that night?” You ask quietly, nothing how his gaze lingered with yours, “Because if that wasn’t you then—“

He gives you a muted look of warning, wanting you to drop the topic of conversation, but you can’t be bothered. He wasn’t in charge of you, not really. 

“You can play a Dio song blindfolded, I bet,” You point out, still keeping enough of a hushed town that only Eddie can hear, “Your eyes were closed that entire set.”

“It was my first time back home in a while,” He defends lamely, “It helps with the nerves.”

“I thought it was really good.” 

Eddie’s eyes light up in a way you can’t ignore, bordering on shock and adoration, it’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him.

The end of class comes quicker than you want it to, forced to pack your belongings back into your bag in a rush, everyone’s already managed to file out before you can even think of zipping your bag up.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, every other student already long gone, “here, take this.” 

It’s a flyer, similar to the one Max shoved into your hands a few weeks prior. 

A different bar, same band; one night only. 

“I’m probably breaking a thousand rules by giving you that,” He explains carefully, “but maybe you and Max could come out and watch us play—tell her I’ll even throw in some free Kate Bush.” 

Your smile is warm, folding the flyer and stuffing it into your pocket. “I told you—I’m not the type to blab, Eddie.”

You hate how easy it feels to say his name in such a setting, still dressed up in his ridiculous attempt at seeming studious and professional. You knew he hated it, he knew it too. 

“I can ask her—if not, I’ll still show.” You tell him.

He was only inviting Max to be courteous, but that wasn’t up for him to decide whether or not you actually brought her along. Either way, he was appreciative. He knew that a lot of the support he received back home was mostly done out of obligation and sympathy, but with—it felt real. He didn’t know you, he didn’t have anything to prove to you, and more importantly, you were genuine and honest; he hated that you took up this class. Hated it.

“It’s not a big deal if you can’t.” He offers as an out.

There was no way you were going to miss it, not with how Eddie was looking at you now; despite the circumstance, it was so blatantly obvious to you how badly you wanted him.

“Eddie, I’ll be there.” You assure him once more.

And if the smile that spreads over his face isn’t something worth worshiping, you’d surely find something else. 

☆.｡.:*

The bar is small, on the complete opposite side of town—but Max still offers to drive you, but it’s definitely not for your own benefit. She hasn’t shut up about Eddie since you’d told her the situation, the weird looks he gives you, and the horrible filthy dreams you’ve been having; sans the super embarrassing details. She gets it—it’s incredibly amusing to her, but she gets it. 

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” You asks, fingers tapping nervously against the ripped denim of your jeans, frayed material pulled between your fingertips. “He did invite you.”

“Babe, I’m doing you a favor.” Max interjects, halfhearted smirk on her face.

“He’s my teacher—for the last time,” You begin, beyond desperation, the words falling from your tongue weren’t even believable to your own ears, “I’m not trying to fuck him, Max.”

“I did not say anything about fucking him,” She laughs amusingly, turning into the parking lot of the bar, “—it’s just not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ve known Eddie for a long time.”

“You’re really missing the point.” You say, rubbing the frustration on your face away with your hands, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Oh whatever, don’t tell me you suddenly have some strict moral compass,” Max replies flippantly, “you want to screw him and you know it.”

The suspense is enough of an answer. There was no lying to Max, she knew just about every deepest, darkest secret you carried.

She pulls to a stop outside the entrance, turning toward you carefully, “Also—I can’t pick you up so you’re gonna have to ask him for a ride. I love you.” She rambled it off in one breath, barely giving you time to process. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s the one fight you decide not to pick with her, because for some reason, you know it’s for your own good. 

“Hey—you made it!” The familiar voice calls from behind you—Eddie, guitar case in hand, the rest of his band mates in tow. “Red.” He acknowledges, offering her a nod. “There’s parking in the back.”

“Oh—I’m not staying,” She shouts from the driver’s side, “take care of her or I’ll murder you, Munson.” 

Max is pulling off before you have any last fleeting chance to run, leaving both you and Eddie at a loss for words.

“Pulled a fast one, didn’t she?” Eddie asks after a moment, gathering by your side, following you into the bar. “She’s sneaky as hell, I’ll give her that.” 

“Yeah, you could say that.” You huff softly, watching your step as you crossed the threshold, hit in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer. 

“A beaut, isn’t she?” Eddie asks sarcastically, but despite that, the bar still garnered a decent amount of attention, packed to the brim with older gentlemen—nothing like bars near campus. 

“I think I found your target audience,” You joke lightly, catching the smirk that crosses Eddie’s face as you glance over your shoulder. “I’ll fit right in.” 

Eddie slaps a twenty into your hand, “Here, drinks on me—since I forced you here,” You look at him reluctantly, “I don’t want to hear it.” 

“I didn’t plan on drinking tonight.” You insist, forcing the bill back into his hand, “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” He asks, eyeing you carefully, like he’s trying to find a hint or tell, something to figure out what exactly your mind was fighting against—which right now, it was the fact that Eddie looked ridiculous with eyeliner, yet, still criminally attractive.

It’s exactly why you shouldn’t have come tonight, because whatever could happen—you weren’t sure if you had it in you to shut down. 

You nod with finality. Eddie takes the money back reluctantly, stuffing it into his front pocket. He feels terrible that you have to sit there, alone—all to watch a shitty cover band play a few songs.

But to you, it was worth it. 

You sit and wait, forcing away the bartender a few times until he finally gets the message, leaving you be. It’s quiet, aside from the hum of laughter and idle conversation, Eddie and his group setting up silently onstage—that impending feeling in your gut expanding further as you watch him move around, guitar strap swung over his neck, watching shamelessly as he adjusts the instrument against his body. 

He catches your eyes then, sending you a cheeky smile that has you face burning on the spot—at this point, you care less about your professional relationship, if it could even be considered that. 

Eddie plays with all the gusto you expect, belting out lyric after lyric on his performance high; it’s unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. It’s hard not to compare him to his classroom demeanor, more restrained and relaxed—it was forced, that was easy to tell. But this—this was Eddie, unafraid and free to behave how he pleased, it was unfair how attractive he was, both in looks and personality. It felt like you’d know him longer than just a few weeks; months maybe? Years? 

It was like hanging out with an old friend, discovering new and old things about one another; you’d spill your heart to him at a moment’s notice if he asked—and that’s why this felt so dangerous. 

☆.｡.:*

“How was it?” Eddie asks as he rounds the corner, still slightly out of breath and face covered in a sheen of sweat. You hand him a napkin in silence and he laughs, but accepts the offer.

“Good,” You smile honestly, “I really enjoyed the gradual crescendo from Holy Diver into Living After Midnight—“

Eddie could kiss you on the spot, which is such a startling thought that it stops all thinking completely—you were absolutely too good to be true, it was a constant reminder every time you spoke, making him fight with this taboo feeling more and more every day. 

“Do you still need a ride home?” He asks suddenly, interrupting your waterfall of compliments, “I was going to head out already.”

“Well, considering Max left me stranded,” You say with an empty bitterness, knowing that her attentions were mostly good, “yes, I do.” 

Eddie nods a silent direction—and just like the first night, you follow without question.

☆.｡.:*

The foot that isn’t pressed on the gas pedal is shaking insistently, leg bouncing against the leather of Eddie’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can hear you humming, mumbling the song on the radio to yourself, another classic—one of Eddie’s favorites, and he really can’t help himself anymore. 

It was just a small, innocent indulgence. Who could it really hurt? You were both consenting, capable adults—and the worst thing you could do was turn him down, which Eddie really hoped wasn’t the case, but he was beyond caring about norms and rules, driven by the pure fact that he just wanted—wanted you, in any sense of the word. 

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, watching as Eddie searched idly through his stack of music, somehow still managing his focus on the road.

“Changing the song,” He comments simply, pushing the disc into the player—the soft synth of the song pushing through the speakers of his van, “do you know it?”

“Corey Hart, right?” You ask, taking a wild guess. You’d only heard the song once, but it was still catchy enough that it stuck around in your brain, “I didn’t picture you as the type.”

“You’d be surprised.” He comments oddly, turning the volume up slightly. 

He notices the humming again, the small head bop along to the beat. “You like it.”

It’s more of a statement, rather than a question. You catch the side of his face, the small glint in his eye as he focuses back on the road.

“That's presumptuous of you,” You retort, hands twisting in your lap, “it’s alright, I guess.”

“Mind if I do a little study?” He asks hesitantly, breath catching in your throat for half a second.

“Of me?” You ask with a laugh, “I mean—if you want?”

“Your heart is racing, for one,” Eddie points out slyly, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest as the beat picked up, chorus running through the silence that filled the air, “and you’re squeezing your hands.”

“Okay, genius,” You remark, “You’ve got eyes, good for you.”

He’s not really using his degree in this situation, it’s more of an innocent observation of the already underlying tension that Eddie couldn’t help but notice—the obvious body language giving you away. The song was just a secret favorite of his, but you didn’t need to know that, not yet.

“Mind I make one?” You ask, “An observation, I mean.”

What was the harm in it anyways? Eddie nods for you to continue.

“You’ve been shaking your leg since we left.” You point out, the bouncing coming to an abrupt stop, “and I’ve never seen you do that—ever.” 

“It’s the after performance buzz.” He replies cooly, but you can’t be bothered to believe it. “It’s not that unusual.”

“Eddie—you’re making that up,” You tell him, eyeing burning into the side of his face, “what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah—why are you lying?” It’s a bold question to ask, heart fluttering in your chest. But, the way he looks at you has your legs crossing in frustration, squeezing together to relieve that ache growing between your legs.

“So, you want to pretend I didn’t notice that either?” He asks, eyeing the full expanse of your body before stopping on your legs, still firmly crossed in the seat, hands white knuckling each other under the long sleeves of your shirt. “Uncross your legs.”

“What? No.” You scoff, offended by his forwardness for a brief moment. 

Eddie slips his hand under your knee wordlessly, prying your legs apart. You can’t help but look at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind—that doesn’t stop your legs from following his order. It made the ache that much worse.

“Don’t,” He warns hesitantly, the small shift in your leg giving you away, “it’s not gonna help.”

“Help what?” You reply dumbly, “I can’t cross my legs? Is that a crime?”

Eddie’s gaze lingers for far too long, noticing the flush of your chest and the way it creeps up your cheeks—they felt like they were on fire. In the midst of all the back and forth, it’s hard to keep focus on the main fact at play—teacher, student, your mind screaming, wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“I can help.” He makes a subtle nod toward you.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. You were very well aware of the issue. You want to weigh your options, come up with some stupid reason to wiggle out if the situation—but nothing comes to mind. The way Eddie’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel has you digging your nails into your own thigh—you’re going to cave, you can feel it. 

“Eddie.” You warn, watching as his hands lingers toward the gear shift, resting against the cracked and worn down plastic covering.

“Our secret, right?” He teases, like this whole situation wasn’t built on secrecy. You nod willingly, legs spreading a few inches wider. His fingers trail the seam of your jeans, stopping on the button, popping it open with deft fingers. “Move this way—yeah, there.” 

And when his fingers breach the seam of your underwear, your mind sings a soft praise of release, watching as his hand forces its way into the tight space, leaving him no other option but to cup your cunt with his full palm.

There was no turning back now. 

His middle finger drags through your folds testingly, matching the slow undulating beat of the song, like this was a game to him. You have no idea how to handle your hovering hands, too afraid to touch him, so they wrap around the headrest behind your head, fingers gripped tightly together.

Your legs spread wider, giving him better access—you were rutting into his hand at the shift of position, feeling that familiar tingle of pleasure as it shot through your body, mixed with the feeling of a bite of forbidden fruit, avoiding Eddie’s heated gaze as he shifted between you and the road.

It feels reckless and stupid, but you can’t find the courage to stop.

The first dip of his finger is like heaven, feeling unfamiliar after so long, despite how often you touched yourself, you couldn’t remember the last time there had ever been anyone else but you—not since the first summer after you graduated; freshly eighteen and naive, letting a much older man have you how he wanted—it’s uncanny, the situation your in now. But this, it doesn’t feel like that.

“Fuck—“ Your voice catches, stomach clenching at the curl of his middle finger as it slipped inside of you and back out, pace so insufferably slow, “—need more.”

“There she is,” He smiles to himself, confidence oozing in his tone, “—shit, you’re such a liar.”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s not talking to you at all—which sends you down a different wave of emotions, pussy clenching around his lone finger, gasping at the way he curls it against the soft walls of your cunt, searching desperately for something out of reach.

“How long has it been like this?” He asks curiously.

Since the moment you met him, is what you want to say. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply breathlessly, back arching away from the seat, cunt pressing further against his hand as he slips a second finger inside.

At the lie, Eddie stops without warning, and it gives you a headache, that slow build of pleasure deflating immediately. 

“The truth,” He says, though, it’s more of a demand, “tell me.”

And fuck, if you weren’t putty in this man’s rough, calloused hands. 

“Since earlier,” You reply, rewarded with the soft brush of a fingertip over your clit, you quickly unzip your jeans to allow for more room, “when I saw you onstage.”

Eddie’s groan in response tells you everything you need to hear. He slows to a stop at a red light and it’s the first real glance you share with him the entire evening, both of you seeing straight through each other, bodies overran with pleasure. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He says, and it seems a little late for a realization like that, you can’t help but laugh, “what—you think it’s funny?”

“You’re the one with your hand down my pants, sir.” You retort, earning a disciplined squeeze as he shoves his two middle most fingers back into your cunt, molding around him like glue.

“Sorry—I know you hate that word,” You say playfully, “But do you mind if I use it? Or, do you prefer professor?” 

It was your turn to play into the guilt he was feeling, though it didn’t seem to be concerning if he still had his hands shoved down your pants so willingly. 

“Shut up,” He forces out, swerving slightly at the way you cunt clenched around his fingers, insides fluttering as he curves his fingers wildly, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you, “don’t call me that.”

His hands were larger than yours, making up for all the work you missed out on. 

“Too far?” You ask teasingly, knowing that was the least of your worries; all moral lines crossed, blurred, forgotten about entirely. Eddie’s fingers pull back to graze over the sensitive nub, rubbing in small, leisurely circles, “Fuck that—that feels—“

Your moan is so unashamed that it surprises you, hips bucking up into his hands as you nearly leapt out of the seat.

Eddie can’t take the suffering much longer, pulling off onto the winding side road, tucked into a nest of trees. He unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing fuller access as he turns toward you, switching his hands with practiced ease—you couldn’t even open your eyes, face drawn up in pleasure. You knew the moment you looked at him you were done for. 

“Look at me,” His voice echoes alongside the melodic tune of the song, his fingers matching the catchy beat—the damn music aficionado he was, toying with you, fingers strumming against your swollen clit like the strings of his guitar, “—I said, look at me.”

Your body works for you, eyes opening on instinct—his voice was rough, authoritative, leaving no room for argument. 

“Good girl—It’s what you wanted, right?” He asks with a semblance of a smirk on his face, “It’s why you came tonight?”

You laugh weakly at his words, double entendre, unable to go unnoticed, “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s came tonight.”

His eyes darken, shifting toward your cunt, covered by your clothes, his wrist poking out above the thin material of your underwear. 

“You can stop—stop acting like this is my fault,” You hiccup, gasping as he applies heavy pressure to your clit, rubbing steadily, hating how shameful it feels as your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing his fingers were still buried inside you. “Please—fuck, I just—“

All self restraint forgotten, you hand searches for his face, finding its way into his curls, pulling gently at the root, the softest hint of a grunt falling from his lips—the first noticeable sign all evening that he was even slightly affected by this—by you. 

And maybe you’ve gone too far, the idea of touching him is where things go wrong, but you can’t be bothered to hold yourself together anymore. 

“It’s okay,” He assures you, leaning over the middle console, hand working quickly against your cunt, moaning loudly into the confines of the car, ashamed at how wrecked you sound, “I like it.”

He must’ve noticed your expression, lingering on his face—you could do anything and he’d fall to his knees. 

“It hurts—“ You plead, begging for release, “—please?”

It sounds too pretty coming from you, deciding that putting you out of your misery was easier than watching you suffer, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, Eddie’s hands feeling so much better than your own, or anyone that’s touched you before. 

Your mouth hangs open on a wordless gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the force at which your high hits you, his fingers gently coaxing you through the descending pulse of your orgasm, near the point of over stimulation.

“Okayokay—“ You ramble, fingers wrapping around the length of his wrist as you pulled him away, heart skipping in your chest at the sight of his fingers flexing against your stomach as he pulls away, fingers covered in your wetness as a result of what just happened.

Your head rests against the back of the seat, chest heaving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. “Not that I’m complaining—“ Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your hypnosis, “but you might wanna let go.” 

“Shit—I’m sorry,” You apologize softly, letting go of his hair, looking at him sheepishly, hands returning to your lap to fix your pants. 

The song had ended long ago, the gentle rumble of the engine filling the quiet like an ambiance, realization settling between you both. 

Who speaks first? 

He’s quiet, wiping his hands on a black handkerchief that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, before stuffing it into his back pocket—where it must’ve been all along. 

“I’m—“

“Should I—“

The stare you hold is long and tense, brimming with even more sexual tension than before, searching for some way to cope with whatever just happened. 

He glanced down at the hard bulge of his jeans, noticing the way your gaze catches. He shifts, pulling at the front of his jeans to adjust himself. “It’s fine.” He lies, not ready to allow this to go any further than it should have. 

“I don’t mind,” You reply slowly, voice hesitant as you lean forward, “I want to.”

He feels himself flex at the thought, the idea of your mouth—or even your hand, wrapped around, he was ruined. But, he’s insistent.

“I need to get you back to campus, right?” He asks, though the answer is obvious. It was a grasping at straw attempt to change the subject. “Red’s probably worried about you.”

Not a fucking chance.

“Yeah—you’re right.” You answer, trying to hide dejection, wanting nothing more than to touch him, as intimately as he had you. “We should go.”

It’s like he’s turning on his classroom demeanor before your eyes—and frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s regretting every choice he just made and you know it, watching as he flips the gear into place, back on the road with one swift twist of the steering wheel. 

And it could’ve been the heat of the moment or the copious amount of drinks that Eddie had been offered that night, obscuring his rational thinking—but he didn’t reek of alcohol, not a single drop on his breath. So, if anything, it was regret, obvious and plastered over his entire face. 

But to Eddie, it's shame. 

Shame at the idea of breaking so many rules, risking his job at the hands of some young women—who he couldn’t help but be lured by, entranced at how much of an enigma you were. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even put it into words. 

And even after he drops you off that night, he comes in his hand, against the soft expanse of his stomach, the image of your face in his mind as you come apart by the work of his own hand. 

He knew there was no going back, allowing himself to fully succumb to the idea that if you were willing to let him have you like that, you’d let him do just about anything. 

It was exactly what you wanted. 

author's note: and an extra special thank you to @hellfirehoe for dealing with my nonstop horny thoughts about this and helping me proofread.

[leggerefiore]

YOU CANT JUST BULLY SAWSBUCK INGO LIKE THAT!!! He deserves some fuck too 🥺🥺🥺

seeing as three people have pleaded to also fuck ingo, here you go lmao

cw: 18+ content, afab reader, pokehybrid au, sawsbuck ingo, outdoor sex, breeding kink

He was frustrated.

He could never even beat his little brother in a fight over who got you, and was chased off into the woods to mope about it.

A sigh left Ingo as he laid in a sun spot within the grotto. The sun was warm and pleasant, but nothing would satiate the growing itch inside him but what he was denied. Emmet was always the more physically active and aggressive of the two, so it would only make sense he would win such a competition. Ingo allowed his mind to wander for a while in his spot.

Until a snapping stick drove him from his thoughts. His eyes immediately went over to you, who stared at him sweetly. “Ingo,” you cooed and walked over to him, cupping his face. Your forehead rested against his for a moment, mindful of his horns, before moving to kiss him. He wanted to speak to you, but your lips danced against his wonderfully and prevented him from attempting to. Even when he opened his mouth to talk, you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Your arms pressed his upper torso to yours and left him a bit dazed. When the kiss finally ended, you smiled at him so lovingly. Then, you began in inexplicably stripping. He was flustered and tried to avert his eyes, but you laughed again. “C'mon, I thought that's what you and Emmet were fighting over, do you not want to fuck?” you teased him, sliding off the last of your clothing. He froze. Your vulgar word haunted his mind. That is what he wanted. Badly.

You laid a blanket out from your bag and sat on it, legs spread out to give him a full view. “Do I need to prepare myself or do you know how to?” you asked him. He snapped from his stupor and laid himself down to be on your level. His hands grasped your thighs nervously as he felt himself growing excited.

“I-I'll do it,” he nodded and brought a tentative hand between your legs. His thumb nervously pressed between your folds, feeling the odd warmth and moisture of it for a moment. He trailed it up and found for a moment before landing on your clit. Pressing it gently, he began to work it into circles. A silent groan came from you, and he felt more confident. He brought his index finger in to circle your entrance before diving it inside.

You gripped the blanket in anticipation as he brought another to join the first. He began to scissor you open and felt eagerly bucked your hips up. His thumb continued to play with your clit, too. Everything felt so wonderful. Eventually, he began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, working you over into a small orgasm. A sigh came from you at the pleasure. He removed his fingers from you and brought them up to his face. Ingo sniffed them for a moment before placing them inside his mouth.

A blush settled across your face as his eyes went distant for a moment. You tasted amazing to him. He wanted to eat you out, but you decided to shift onto your knees and gaze at him smugly. “Ingooo, your dick is already peaking out,” you teased him, seeing the phallus, “I know you're ready.” He nodded nervously. Standing over you, he felt his dick brush against your folds for a moment. Before he could even think about it, your hand moved to correct his positioning. His cock head pressed against your entrance as he nervously swallowed his spit. “Hurry up,” you told him, “What if a hiker a finds us?” 

He whined, but pressed himself inside of you. The stretch was a bit of a thrill, his cock much longer and thicker than a human's own. You let out a moan as he finally bottomed out. A bit of his fur tickled you, and the hooves reminded you of just how dangerous he could be. He remained still for a moment, clearly conscious of his size. Eventually, however, you moved your hips desperately. “Mooove,” you whined, “You feel amazing…”

He pulled himself almost completely out of you before pressing in. Ingo let out a moan and quickly found a rhythm to his thrusts. You felt in pure bliss as the deertaur fucked into you sweetly. Even despite the threat of possibly being seen, you could only focus on the dick pushing into you so well. With a cry from you for more speed, he soon moved into pounding into you.

You gripped the blanket when his dick hit a sensitive spot inside you. He took immediate notice of your reaction and took to targeting that spot with each thrust. “I… I love you more than anything,” he whined, “I hated the idea of him getting you. I want to be with you… Perhaps raising a Deerling together…” You could barely think, but his kind words touched your heart. The thought was still quickly fucked from your mind as his dick hit that area again, sending you into a frenzy.

A coil that had been building in your stomach snapped as you crashed into the blanket below, mind empty for a moment. Ingo could not last much longer with how your walls tightened around and milked his cock. A few more thrusts happened before he buried himself to the hilt and came. Heat spread deep inside you, as you laid with your head in your arms.

He removed himself from you and softly shifted you to lay on his lower body as he laid down, too. You nuzzled your face into his fur as heavy breaths came from you.

“A Deerling, huh?” you finally replied after regaining yourself somewhat, “… You're such a softie, Ingo.” You managed to peck a kiss to his cheek before drifting off against him. The Sawsbuck hybrid decided to remain wide awake to guard you during your nap.

~

Ingo startled awake as his brother gazed down at him. Kricktots chirped, and the sun had since disappeared from the sky.

Had…

Had that all been a dream?

[spotsandsocks]

And It's There When You Call Out My Name

Companion fic/part two to this fic posted last week And its there when I look in your eyes Read it here first from Buck's pov

Read on AO3 2k Teen

It’s just an ordinary evening; no different from so many others he’s had with Buck and ordinary might sound dull to some people but Eddie loves ordinary. His eyes follow Buck around the kitchen. It’s not the only thing he loves.

The amount of pleasure he gets from being here, talking about ordinary things, helping to cook or clean up afterwards is ridiculous.

He’s happy and it’s been a long time since Eddie could say that. It’s been a hell of a journey to get himself to this point but he’s not had to do it alone. The thought makes him smile.

They move around the kitchen together, a seamless dance of two people who know each other down to the bone. Buck takes the last plate from his hand with a smile.

So, Eddie’s not alone. Not anymore. He’s in Buck’s kitchen and it feels like home, no, he corrects himself because that’s not quite right; it’s Buck who feels like home, wherever he is, that’s where Eddie wants to be. It’s one of the reasons he knows he’s in love, his stomach gives a pleasant little flip at the thought. 

And it’s why evenings like this have become the norm for them now, Eddie’s allowed himself that much, a slow slide into Buck's life and Buck’s happily let him in. So now it’s either Eddie and Chris at Buck’s or him at theirs. It all adds up to more time together than apart. More evenings like this than he can count. 

Then Buck turns and he has a smudge of pasta sauce on his face and with all that love in his heart and unfortunately not a single thought in his head Eddie reaches out and wipes it away and with that one simple gesture everything changes.

He knows what’s happened straight away. He can read that face without any effort at all. No one understands Buck like he does, which means  he has to act quickly because everything they have is going to vanish if he doesn’t. 

The man he loves has gone rigid, blue eyes wide and terrified because he’s finally noticed. He finally knows. And he’s not ready, but then Eddie already knew that, it’s why he hasn’t said anything.

Eddie holds in his sigh, despite all his efforts it was inevitable that one day Buck would see, after all, how can all that love truly stay hidden. 

Yes, Eddie thinks, inevitable, from the second Evan Buckley ducked his head and smiled his way around the words ‘who me?’ 

How it’s taken Buck this long to work it all out is a mystery because Eddie is very aware he’s been looking at him a certain way for a long time. He’s tried, not to hide it exactly, but to damp it down, keep the love muted to an acceptable level of affection for a best friend. 

Ultimately it hasn’t worked, but what was he expecting, his heart has been bleeding into his eyes for years, ever since Buck had seen him struggling and stepped into his mess. 

It had been overwhelming at first, realizing that someone, still almost a stranger to him, had wanted to help and had always found the perfect way to do it. First  when he’d called ahead to tell Bobby Chris needed a place to stay, then introducing him to Carla. After that there was Christmas and skateboards and never ending support. How could he not fall for him and how could he keep those feelings from showing when he looked Buck’s way.

He knows his heart had been firmly in his eyes when he told Buck there was no one he trusted more with his son and his heart was definitely bleeding when he yelled at him in a grocery store, missing him so desperately it hurt. 

Later he’d been unable to keep the love he was starting to understand from his face as he’d said ‘I know you did’ when Buck had risked everything because his own heart was breaking.

The love he could barely allow himself to acknowledge had bled out along with his body, spilling over hot LA asphalt when he’d held onto Buck’s eyes, until his own had closed against his will. 

He thinks now that he’d hoped Buck would see then but he hadn't; he also hadn’t understood what he’d tried to say with his words and his eyes in the hospital.

And then after all that - those blue eyes had been the lifeline that held him together and kept him tethered to a hope of a brighter future. 

How is love like that meant to stay secret? Inevitably it doesn’t, you can’t hide all that forever so now Buck knows and while Eddie isn’t that sorry about it, he does wish the poor man didn’t look like Bambi caught in headlights.

It’s clear Buck isn’t ready to accept that kind of love. He's only known for a few seconds and already he’s spiraling. Eddie can hear every word running through his head. If he can’t stop him, Buck is going to panic and do something they’ll both regret. He jumps in with a gentle but firm voice.

“Stop it. God, you think so loudly.”

He's proud his voice is so calm nothing of his frantic heartbeat can be heard, he can feel it though banging fiercely against his rib cage. He desperately needs this to work. The boy behind him and the man in front of him are his whole world, his family and he will not lose that.

Each word matters, he speaks slowly, “Buck, it’s ok. Just listen, can you do that?”

There’s a glimmer of hope because Buck manages the smallest nod he’s ever seen. He gives Buck the truth and tries to hold onto his happiness;

“Buck, there’s nothing you need to do about this. Nothing you have to fix. I'm not waiting. I'm not hoping for something more.” 

God he has to make him believe and it’s all true, every word.  He just wants to keep what he has. If he can make Buck believe then everything will be ok. He manages to lock the fear growing inside him away and carries on. His voice sounds calm and steady. 

“I'm just being here with you, because this is where I want to be.”

Please let him believe that. Eddie sends his prayer into the universe. Buck looks like he’s going to bolt at any moment.

He holds onto sapphire blue eyes that glisten with unshed tears and hopes against hope that he’s not going to lose everything. All he can do is trust that Buck doesn’t want to lose this either that he’ll want to hold on as tight to ‘them’ as he does.

Buck blinks blindly but slowly reason replaces the panic and Eddie lets his smile widen. Buck’s coming back to him. His heart eases a fraction and his arms ache to hold him. He can’t do that so he settles for a hand on each of his arms, trying to push the reassurance  that they can stay just as they are into his skin. 

He keeps talking and he prays it’s enough.

“Nothing needs to change. I don’t need anything more than this Buck. I’m really happy with everything just like it is. Ok?”

With his heart beating wildly he waits for what feels like a lifetime before Buck nods and mumbles ok twice before the briefest of pauses, then this most remarkable of men resets his brain and moves onto ice cream. 

The relief almost takes him out at the knees. Buck trusts him enough to take him at his word, to believe that Eddie doesn’t need more than Buck can give. A deep steadying breath feels appropriate, he takes it and sits down with Chris to wait for ice cream and breathe slowly until his racing heart returns to its regular steady rhythm.

So nothing changes, he keeps his promise and it’s not even hard. He doesn’t change anything and neither does Buck. They stay them; Just Eddie. Just Buck. Just Eddie&Buck.

There is one slight difference though, Buck knows he’s loved now and Eddie’s glad of it. 

Every ordinary day is a gift. He has something he never had before Buck came along- someone to hold him up and push him forward, comfort and challenge him whichever is needed most. Eddie knows Buck loves him in some way, the warm quiet affection of the man he trusts with his whole soul is obvious. 

He’s not waiting for it to change, he didn’t lie to Buck about that, he has no expectation Buck’s love will ever mirror his own feelings. 

He doesn’t need any more than he has, he’s happy. He does sometimes suspect he could be happier if by some miracle anything were to change between them but he doesn’t dwell on that because he has everything he needs and he doesn’t think about wanting.

He just loves Buck, it's as simple as that, not that he’s perfect, love isn’t blind and he knows that. He knows that despite the smiles, the light he brings with him there are parts of Buck that he needs to work on, darker parts, sadder parts.

Buck sees that too and Eddie’s there for him. He’s there when he works out something needs to change and when he does the work that’s needed to make that happen. He’s there to help and offer support but mostly it’s Buck working hard, making changes. He learns about himself and he grows and Eddie can add proud to all the other emotions Buck generates in him.

Later still when Chris starts pulling away, growing up and building his own life Eddie is equal parts pride and sadness, he aches for what he’s losing but Chris is becoming who he’s meant to be and that’s the whole point of being a parent isn’t it. Buck reminds him of that and is there for him again, like he always has been. 

Even when it’s become just the two of them more often than not he doesn’t expect things to change until one night it does.

He turns to his name on Buck’s lips, he said it differently somehow, it makes him curious, sparks something inside him. Buck asks a question.

“You said once you don’t need anything more than this, but do you want more?” 

Eddie adds a frown to his smile, they went over that a long time ago, which is what he says; surely Buck can’t be worrying about that again now.  When Buck shuffles closer and reassures him he’s not worried in a voice that means something his stomach flips.

“But, do you want more” this time Buck’s meaning is clear and it sets Eddie’s heart racing. He’s spent a long time not hoping, so to be flooded with it now is a little overwhelming.

“Because if you do, could you tell so I don’t waste anymore time.”

He wants to answer but his brain’s shut down and words are a step too far. He suspects his face is painting an eloquent enough picture despite his silence because Buck’s holding his hand, fingers closing around his own.

“Please, please tell me you do.”

The quiet words, etched with longing set him free.

Buck wants him.

That means he can want too, he didn’t need it, that was never a lie, he’d have stayed forever without any more than this but if he can have more he’ll grab onto it with both hands and never let go.

The words are out of his mouth on his next breath,

“I want more, I want everything.” 

Buck’s eyes light up and Eddie’s halfway through a final check, the words “but you don’t…” barely touch his lips before Buck’s mouth is on his stealing them away.

Buck kisses him.

He's never let himself think about it, what Buck’s mouth on his would be like, how soft it would be, how he would taste, he never imagined how his hands would feel on his face or sliding down his back and pulling him closer. Now he doesn’t have to imagine, now he knows. 

He falls into the feeling, lets it soak into him like sunshine sinking into his bones, enough heat  to keep him warm for a thousand nights, bright enough to guide him home again if he was ever lost. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel lost again, not with this man by his side. 

Buck loves him so it’s ok to want, he pushes and then he has Buck beneath him, pressed into the couch and tasting of desire and devotion, of home and family. 

Buck loves him.

He can taste it, feel it in every place they’re connected. 

He hears his own name gasped out desperately and there’s love there too. 

Eddie’s known he was Buck’s for a long time but now Buck is his as well, he wasn’t expecting it, he hadn’t needed it but he’d wanted it and now he plans to take it and keep it safe and never let go.

Buck loves him and they kiss and nothing’s ever ordinary again. 

Read on AO3

Tagging people who reblogged and said nice things about part 1 @imsupposedtobewritting @buddierights @elvensorceress @ajunerose @bekkachaos @shortsighted-owl @pettyeddiediaz @alyxmastershipper @mikereads @lokisilvertongueshipsvictuuri @loveyourownsmiilee @comfortbuddie @yawningmicrobe @caroandcats @evaneds @shinedivine @diazpatcher @missoliverstark @taketheplanspinitsideways @hermscat @megslovesbooks @lilbuddie @the-likesofus

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Higurashi Month 2022, Day 29: Twilight

Rena sighed contentedly to herself, nestling back into the yielding give of the canvas hammock and looking up at the sky, streaked with a thousand shades subtly darkening into indigo at the eastern horizon, where the first few faint stars glimmered. Fireflies swirled in slow, lazy orbits above the grass and retrieved junk in her backyard, their greenish-yellow light mimicking the spangled tapestry soon to fill the heavens as they buzzed like tiny, mobile sparks across her yard. The humid heat of Hinamizawa had drawn back a little with the setting sun, leaving a pleasant, tepid warmth that ghosted over her skin with a featherlike caress, leaving her perfectly comfortable, perfectly content, for this to go on forever.

Paper rustled as Keiichi-kun turned a page in his book and continued reading. He had a good voice, actually, which should come as no surprise when Rena remembered his club nickname. Keiichi-kun knew on an instinctive level all the cues and dips that would make his spectators lean in, gasp, exalt. He could work a crowd like no one else Rena had ever seen, and even if she was a crowd of one, she was still an enraptured audience.

And this tale was certainly enthralling. Witches and magic, an island mystery-murder involving an entire extended wealthy family…betrayal and so many deductive twists and turns that only a dedicated mystery novel enthusiast could keep track of them all, never mind name them. Keiichi-kun, who had grown up with his mother’s mystery novels scattered about the house, was perfectly happy to explain the logical mind-games and torturous puzzles to her in between his reading, although Rena’s sleepy guesses often came up correct. She may not know these patterns of logic, but she knew the patterns of people, and her intuition was almost as keen as telepathy, sometimes.

This was the twilight chapter of the story, the last arc, the setting sun on the horizon. Despite the building excitement in Keiichi-kun’s words and the mounting tension in the story, Rena still found herself sleepy, gently swaying and rocking in her hammock. Twilight might be when the curtain of the story was starting to draw closed, but that implied rest, finality, as much as it did an ominous looming of darkness on the horizon.

Rest in peace, indeed.

Rena had heard those words before, those words of Western reverence. They were said over the dead by Christians, put on their tombstone tablets. Rest in peace, because they buried rather than burned their bodies with the belief that the soul would eventually rejoin them, and a soul could not rejoin that which was burned to ash. As they piled dirt onto their solid coffins, they wished that the dead would sleep in peace until that time, remaining undisturbed by curiosity or desecration until their body and soul became one once more.

But something of that peaceful rest crept over her here, now, swinging gently in her hammock as her eyelids fluttered against the fiery sky and Keiichi-kun’s voice rose and fell beside her, the warmth of summer rolling over her like a thick, downy duvet blanket. The world seemed to stop whirling around her and just was, with every drowsy second taking an eternity to slide into the next and yet not a moment of time passing at all. Despite the drifting sparks of the fireflies, everything around her seemed like a still pool, and the slightest breath, the slightest movement, would send ripples eddying out into the world.

Rena didn’t want that. Insensibly, she didn’t want it, felt that disturbing this deep and sleepy dark-tinted pool would ruin something in her, in the air, in the quiet contemplation of her spirit. Not terribly, not painfully, just…ruinous. If she stirred, the magic of this moment would slip right through her fingers, leaving her grasping after its memory with vague and groping thoughts, unable to even articulate what she sought.

She breathed in the green, rich scent of the world around her, and closed her eyes, letting Keiichi-kun’s voice and the magic it wove for her wash over her mind like the slow, steady waves of the ocean.

AN: This is one of the shortest ones I’ve had for a while, but eh. I need to keep in mind that they don’t all NEED to average about 2,000 words per prompt, since they come in a slew and that’s a whole heckin’ lot of material for you readers to page through.

[yanderechuu]

Shower Thoughts

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[3.2K]

Summary: Momo wasn’t as trustable as you had presumed.

Warning: Larceny, nonconsensual touching, masturbation

│

You used to spend roughly ten minutes in the shower, only ever needing to soak your body in the water, apply shampoo and body wash before rinsing all the foam of products from your skin and scalp. Shower thoughts simply consisted of the day’s agenda or any special occurrence that had happened the past week, never really drifting off to existential questions and dark notions that would keep you from leaving the bathroom later than usual. You neither necessarily liked taking a shower nor did you dread it, as to you it was only ever a mandatory routine of the day which you handled with a neutral mind.

But now, ten minutes were already a slow thirty, and majority of the time you bothered not to move your arms to make work of your hair, or lather your skin with soap as you normally would do had it not been for the questions plaguing your mind like how your classmates would terrorize your time and space.

Right, your classmates - who would spend every hour of the day with you as if they didn’t have anything better to do. As if you were an important subject of matter next to hero training. You never appreciated it, because from the start, you did not want to have anything do to with them. They smothered and coddled you as if air wasn’t that important to you, disregarding the way you felt about personal space, how it was very significant to you. Rare were the moments of peace as a few of them were always by your side, ‘ensuring your safety’ as they would like to quote it. Why ensure your safety? You had not been a prominent figure in the sports festival, neither did you have a quirk that could be of great utility for the villains unlike Bakugou or Tokoyami. You weren’t a problem child, either. Their justification of following you around like you were some sort of high-maintenance prisoner made no sturdy sense to you.

“There’s this new package of green tea my mother had sent me this week! Would you like to try it, (y/n)?”

“Sure.”

But if you had to choose among your classmates one whom you would tolerate for the following years you’d be in U.A., that would be Yaoyorozu Momo. She was kind and considerate, often determining your feelings before you could voice it out (not that you really had the courage to, most of the time). She was organized and pristine and never had you met someone more befitting for the definition of ‘mom friend’ than her. She was perfect in nearly every way, and even though you’d have the occasional pang of jealousy at some times her perfectionism was displayed (gender envy, isn’t it, (y/n)?), she never seemed to bear mal intent, so you would let the emotions slide. You’d see the galaxy in her eyes if you would stare long enough. Her tea was best substitute for coffee, too.

You never considered her more than a very great friend, though, and to her, that was a problem.

As you sauntered your way over to your dorm with her, you shuffled your bag to take your room key buried in the side pockets. “I’ll go down in a while, but you better make sure you’re in the common room before me.”

You wouldn’t allow your classmates to take advantage of your lone self simply because Momo wasn’t there to fend them off.

“Mhm! Lemon green tea as usual, correct?”

“Yeah. Thanks again, YaoMomo.”

Your use of sotto voce tone on her nickname gave a pleasant shiver down her spine; her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head had she not restrained herself. Having been always kept to yourself, you never felt the need to adjust your volume for others to hear properly, so oftentimes your voice came out in a whisper - not that she minded, of course. You sounded more sensual that way.

“Are you going to take a while or will I have to brew tea right away?”

“Training was more strenuous than usual, and my muscles can’t seem to relax,” you explained, “so I’m going to take a quick shower.”

From your peripheral vision as you were focused on your bag to fish out the key, you saw Momo’s jaw slack upon hearing your plan to take a bath. It was odd, but you didn’t give particular attention to it when you finally took out your desired item. You failed to notice the way she abruptly settled her gaze on the key, inspecting it as if she was deliberating its shape, form, and material, and installing it to memory.

“Oh- oh!” She exclaimed. “I do remember having some body wash that help soothe muscle strains and body aches. I can hand them to you if you want.”

You shook your head, smiling lightly. “You’re too kind, YaoMomo. But I think just hot water will do for me.”

She watched as you opened the door to your room, giving her one more smile before disappearing inside and locking the door with a distinct click. As soon as you did so, she pulled the sleeve of her wrist up, developing with her body lipids a key the exact copy of the one you had held.

You certainly lied when you had said you were going to take a ‘quick’ shower. Already ten minutes into it did you only decide to sleek yourself with liquid body soap, initially absentmindedly rubbing it on your body, before you gradually got rougher with your movements and soon you found yourself scuffing your own flesh with vehement motion.

They were excessively touchy again, your classmates. Denki got too close to your face while delivering a pick-up line that made you wish you didn’t exist in order to hear it, and upon nearing you did Bakugou pull you away from him, cursing at him to buzz off. He took his time feeling up your waist - the part he used to grab you - while at it. During lunch, as you were once again coerced into joining his group to the cafeteria, Izuku refused to let go of your hand as you walked, and Uraraka as adamant with hugging you by the hips with one arm. It was what girlfriends did, she said, and you were not entirely sure whether or not she referred to that word romantically.

And if not, then did girlfriends also normally touch the parts of which you did not want to be touched on? You felt, clear as day, a bare hand resting on your thigh when you sat on your usual spot, dangerously close to lifting your skirt for everyone to see, and when you gave Hagakure’s faceless face a questioning look, she asked you what was wrong. Her uniform sleeve was literally floating on top of your lap, and still she had the gall to pretend as if she was not touching you with lacking consent. 

 You were not safe from Shoto, either, when he offered to readjust your uniform tie and you were in no place to decline (you had the right to, but they just stripped you off of it), his breath hitching in ecstasy as his fingers brushed your chest; he was, audaciously enough, not hiding his bliss. Then he rubbed your shoulders to ‘warm you up,’ when all he really intended to do was motivate his own fantasy that you were his and he was simply scenting you like some fucking alpha to his omega.

You turned no blind eye to their gesticulations. You never once found it endearing, and wished they would stop with whatever the hell this was called, because you were quite sure this was past the border of molestation and could already be rendered a form of bullying.

But not once did you consider the possibility of having a class obsessed with your quaint self.

So you supposed that until you’d find a way to deduce their idiosyncratic actions and tendencies then you would have to make do with your own bathroom as your safe space. Momo was the only classmate you could confide to, so at least she was there.

Unfortunately, you had yet to see the other side of her coin.

Because as she was just right outside your bathroom door, obsessively taking in every bit of item you owned inside your dorm room like a madman, you were left with the impression that she was all you could ever ask for in a friend. You didn’t know how she was not any better than the rest of your classmates, adoring your very existence to the extent of insanity; how she’d crave for you so often and so terribly that she’d feel herself clench when you do so much as merely spare her a glance. And you had done that a lot today - she would have to relieve herself for it.

She spotted the heap of clothes right by your bed; it became apparent that you had stripped yourself off of it before entering the bathroom and taking a shower. Walking towards it, a portion of your seamless underwear came to view, and she resisted the urge to render into a mound of horniness in order to pick it up and inspect it closely.

It was a lighter color of (s/c). A plain, simple, modest undergarment item, still it evoked a particular feeling on the bottom center of Momo’s hips. The heat came rushing along her midriff and instigated the muscle of her legs to falter, and as soon as she felt it, a hand of hers drifted past her skirt, feeling up the slick accumulated on the fabric of her own panties only with the knowledge that your panties were currently in her possession. She needed release, but you were nearly finished with your bath, and she was still inside your room.

You walked out of the shower the moment she shut the door of your bedroom. You saw it closed, but you didn’t catch the culprit.

This unnerved you to no end. Undoubtedly, you thought, this had to be one of your classmates. Who else was it supposed to be? Aizawa-sensei (...)? You had yet to know their ultimatum, but you were sure this occurrence was another one of their schemes. You had assumed that all their weird, unappreciated antics were just to get you to socialize with them, but now you didn’t understand why it had gotten to the point of entering your room without permission.

You couldn’t keep this to yourself.

So you planned to bring it up to Momo, a representative of your class and someone whom you deemed trustable enough to share it with. Quickly, you dressed into your casual indoor attire, and rushed outside your room to head to the kitchen, where you presumed she’d be in the process of making your tea. But she wasn’t there.

Instead, she was in her own room, your panties muzzled right into her face and her own fingers buried deeply inside her cunt.

“Oh- oh, god- Ah! (Y/n)!”

Oh god, your panties. Oh god, your panties. The object most intimate to your parts of intimacy, soaking every bit of womanly secretion from your genitalia. Of all the masturbation sessions she had done to the thought of you, this was the hottest. She wasn’t quite sure whether to imagine your cunt on her lips in a position of mutual cunnilingus or your fingers thrusting into her in place of hers. She wanted both.

A whine slipped past her lips. To think that moments ago, she was in the same space as you were nude. Oh, to join you in the bathroom, doing inenarrable things to each other with the use of the showerhead. To touch your skin selfishly rather than only watch as she would do during class hours.

She came with a squeal, falling face-down to bite the duvet of her large bed. Gone in her hazy mind was her promise to you of lemon green tea, and as she still basked in the pathological euphoria of getting off, you were in the common room, anxiously waiting for her return.

But just as you had expected, someone was bound to spot you alone and take this as an opportunity to be with you, and they just so happened to be-

Oh. Aoyama.

He offered you a slice of cheese with his usual grin before settling down a few feet beside you, enough to leave you be in your personal bubble. You gave him occasional glances, unwrapping the cheese from its casing and he just sat there, eating his. He was alright, you guessed - another tolerable classmate of yours next to Momo. Perhaps it was because you used to always be alone in the classroom with him during break time that you were at ease with his presence. Or maybe he just seemed so gay and that, for some reason, comforted you. One gay presence could comfort another lol.

“It’s delicious.” Your comment came out inadvertently.

“Oui. Only the best quality for the best person.” He flaunted.

You weren’t exactly sure whether he was referring to you or to himself, but you paid little attention to that as the cheese was certainly delicious; you were not lying.

“It’s odd how your chose to take a bath at this time of the day.” He spoke.

You stopped chewing.

He meant to refer to your damp hair, but having just suspected your class of breaking and entering your room, you thought otherwise.

“I-” You choked on the cheese, ending up needing to gulp it like liquid content instead of breaking it down to fit your throat. 

Immediately, he sprang up in concern, stepping over to you to gently thump you on the back. “Are you alright?”

“No- I mean- I just-!” You wheezed, occasionally having to clear your throat. You swatted his hand away from you; you hadn’t meant to appear rude, but you did. You stood up in a rush. “L-look, I have to go.”

“Don’t you want to drink water?”

“I’m- fine,”

With your words, you took off from the common room area and headed back to your room. There were two sets of emotions that mixed to form the bile in your throat. One was wrath and humiliation upon the discovery of Aoyama’s actions. The other was betrayal and confusion from Momo’s absence when she had said she’d be brewing tea for you, and it wasn’t the tea that disheartened you. She knew of your issue with the class, and if she were busy, couldn’t she have texted you a heads-up?

She shouldn’t be surprised when at the next time she saw you, you interacted with her less. Your intention to distance yourself from her was most prominent, and it didn’t help that your classmates took notice of this, because now they were taking advantage of the situation, tagging you along with them in spite of your futile attempts to decline now that Momo was nowhere to tell them off. When she’d talk to you, you would answer, though your voice was back to speaking to her like she was a stranger. 

Resentment was stronger than ruing the lack of intimacy between you two. It was as if she had received your panties in exchange for the time she’d be spending with you, oddly enough. After much deliberation, she came to realize that this was your little ‘tantrum’ after not being able to meet with her the other day. 

It was pretty cute, she thought, that you’d try and make her acknowledge the fault on her part by ignoring her.

You didn’t walk with her back to dorms as per usual that dismissal. Instead, just like what you had used to do before finding consolation in her, you walked alone, accomplishing being able to avoid your classmates as you did. By the time she reached the dorms, you were in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water to satiate your throat. She took a hold of your wrist before you went back to your room.

“(Y/n),” she pleaded, “tell me what’s wrong.”

You looked at her with a reluctant expression. Perhaps you should. After the short while that you had been hanging out with her, her presence turned into something you came to miss. You wanted her back, but not in the way she wanted you.

“I-it’s just,” you stammered out, “y-you know how I feel being alone in the common room without you. I... I’m not comfortable with our classmates when you’re not around.” She took pride in this. “I don’t take it lightly how you left me alone the other day...”

Your voice faltered out the longer you spoke.

So she was correct; you were certainly having your little ‘tantrum.’ With a guilty smile, she left your wrist to hold your hand tenderly, and suddenly it dawned upon you the feeling of whenever Bakugou held your waist, Shoto nuzzled his face on your neck or Izuku invaded your personal space.

Fear and apprehension.

Before you could preach your objection to whatever she had planned ahead for you, she dragged you along with her and you both reached her dorm room before you could comprehend where she was taking you. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” She said, making you sit on her large bed.

Then she proceeded to make you tea, boiling water with an electric kettle situated on top of her study desk; there also laid a tea set next to her three books, which you assumed were those of which would aid her in the utility of her quirk, like encyclopedias. Beside those was a piece of cloth, unfolded, unkept - a (s/c)-colored silk fabric.

Your face drained of color.

She pushed the books towards the cloth, completely obscuring it from your view and leaving the table disorganized. You knew Momo, neat and orderly as much as possible; she wouldn’t do that without reason.

Now that you thought about it, the same day someone had barged in your room, your underwear had been missing from your set of laundry garments. You spent the next whole day actively avoiding Aoyama, thinking he was the culprit to this felony. At the present moment you were reconsidering your allegation.

“U-um, Momo, I need to go-”

“Here!”

She yelled it so giddily, so uncharacteristically, as she pushed the cup of tea towards your way. How she did so was very quick that you had not the time to take it properly, and steaming liquid fell to your décolletage, past the cotton of your uniform and streaming down the valley of your breasts. It was a moist mess. She loved every bit of it.

“Oh! Oh, my bad. I’ll- I’ll clean you up!” She exclaimed, all flushed and excited.

You didn’t find it in you to push her back when she began to do exactly what she had said, taking your blazer off, loosening your school tie and unbuttoning the dress shirt underneath, only ever being able to stare at her with eyes that evinced betrayal, because it slowly occurred to you that she was satiating her own selfish obsession with you all under the ruse of maintaining a decent friendship. 

“(Y/n),” She breathed out, “I adore you.”

She was no different than the rest of your classmates, and you were a fool to think otherwise.

[jamaisjoons]

dark chocolate snap ⤑ ksj & kth | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 the last thing you’d expected a few days before valentine’s, was a text from your friends’ with benefits telling you to meet them at a hotel. however, with all the tasty tricks up their sleeve, you’re sure that valentine’s day will be extra sweet this year. that is, as long as you survive the night with the two men ravishing you as if you’re their last meal… or dessert. 〞friends with benefits au. valentine’s au. pwp au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: seokjin x reader x taehyung

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: fluff ∝ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 15.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: heavy bdsm themes, hard (but softer than tae)dom!seokjin, hard dom!taehyung, big cock!seokjin, big cock!taehyung, slight bratty sub!reader, threesome: mfm, public indecency yeehaw, use of sex toys: vibrators, exhibitionism, humiliation, use of blindfolds, grinding, female masturbation, voyeurism, teasing, biting, dirty talk, degradation, finger licking/sucking, fingering, wet and messy, minor breast/nipple play, spanking, face slapping with cock, cock rubbing, rough/sloppy blowjob, choking/gagging on cock, praise, food play: melted chocolate, temperature play, licking/eating food off of a body, power dynamics, pain kink, mild ass worship, pussy eating, deep throating, hair pulling, clit torture, throat bulge, face fucking, slight objectification kink, minor choking, crying, orgasm control, orgasm denial, disobedience/punishment, oral fixation, cock worship, anal play, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, impact play: paddle, some truly inspired use of chocolate, begging, forced orgasm, squirting, overstimulation, unprotected sex, riding, minor male masturbation, ass eating, anal fingering, spitting, anal sex, double penetration, rough sex, deep dicking, creampie, anal creampie, aftercare because yn is a trooper an deserves it for her performance

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: ahhhhhhhh i have no idea wtf is happening in this but either way i love taejin... also this is ACTUALLY pwp because the plot and or background to their relationship is non existent

⤑ edited by my lovely @shadowsremedy​, beta read by the sweetest @yeoldontknow​, @kithtaehyung​, @softyoongiionly​, @yoonjinkooked​, @sunshinekims​, @nottodayjjk​, and @vari8tions​

⏤ written for the bon appetit collab

Big Daddy 🍆

        Princess Suite. Crown Plaza. Sowol-ro. Hannam-dong. Reserved under Kim Seokjin. Taehyung and I will be waiting.

You stare at your phone for a couple of moments, making sure that you’ve got the correct address, as well as the hotel, before looking up at the imposing tower of steel and glass that looms over you. The words ‘Crown Plaza’ are emblazoned at the top of the building; the flavescent neon lighting proudly shimmering against the late-evening sky. Eyes skimming to the entrance, you pull your lower lip between your teeth, before anxiously chewing on it. Currently, you’re in the warm comfort of your Uber, the driver patiently waiting for you to exit her vehicle. However, the harder you scrutinise the length between the door of the cab, to the hotel’s front door, the more you feel like turning tail and running away. And that’s nothing to say for the way the distance seems to increase with each passing second; though, you’re sure that’s more to do with your apprehension than anything.

Turning to the Uber driver, “Is there any way you can get closer to the entrance?” you question. The woman looks at you strangely before shaking her head.

“This is the drop off,” comes her laconic response.

At her words, you bite your lip harder - hard enough to almost draw blood - before nodding your head. For a second time that evening, you consider asking the driver to take you back home. Nonetheless, you know that’s not an option: Seokjin and Taehyung most likely waiting for you in the hotel suite. Though, honestly speaking, your tentativeness is all thanks to them in the first place. After all, who the hell ordered their lover to go to a hotel completely naked, with only a winter coat to keep them covered? Answer? Seokjin and Taehyung. Of course, it’s partially your own fault. Mostly because, you’re the one who told both your friends’ with benefits that you wanted more spontaneity and thrill in your relationship. Although, this was not what you had in mind; i.e. Seokjin texting you the moment you’d gotten home from work to strip and get to the hotel.

“Are you getting out? I have other customers,” the woman prompts, and realising she’s grown impatient, you send her an apologetic smile before nodding. Well, there’s no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the coat tighter around you - ensuring each of the buttons are securely fastened, lest you unwittingly flash someone - before opening the door and exiting the Uber. The moment you step outside, a gust of wind blows by. It carries the brisk chill of the winter on its back, and skimming through the heavy tweed of Seokjin’s coat, the gale kisses your skin, leaving the surface gelid under its touch. Instantly, a violent shiver runs down your back, the wintry breeze causing you to huddle into the little warmth offered by the jacket. Under its sharp bite, your nipples twist to hardness, almost painfully, the sudden ache causing you to suck in a sharp breath. Surreptitiously, you chance a glance towards your chest, only to let out a breath of relief. With how thick the jacket is, the hardened peaks of your breasts are hidden - the bulky material effectively hiding them.

For a brief moment, you contemplate getting back in your Uber, but, just as the thought crosses your mind, the car behind speeds off, leaving you alone in the cold. With your choice made for you, your next option is to simply run towards the hotel lobby, because - now that you look at it - the distance isn’t that great. Nevertheless, you know that’s simply not an option. And that’s thanks to the second demand your paramours had asked of you. The remote control vibrator resting just within the walls of your sex. Courtesy of one, Kim Taehyung. It’s small, and motionless right now, but paired with your naked body, and the sight of people simply milling about, the feel of it inside you is prominent - inescapable.

With the fear of the toy falling out of you, and alerting everyone to your lewd, depraved actions, you gingerly begin making your way to the entrance. As you walk, you keep your thighs clenched together, in a bid to retain the silicon toy inside of you, though, that’s easier said than done. Each of your steps has the silken lining of Seokjin’s coat sliding against your naked skin; the soft touch, paired with the thrill of your brazen actions and the biting air, causing your walls to intermittently convulse - threatening to push the toy out of you. Nonetheless, after long, drawn-out moments, you finally reach the front doors.

Just as you take a step to enter the lobby, however, another gust of wind blows past, and this time, after ruffling through Seokjin’s coat, it brushes against your bare core. Automatically, a soughed whimper falls from your lips - the chilled air against your heated sex making your skin prickle with goosebumps. The sensation has your inner walls clenching inadvertently, and under the reflexive movement, the feel of the rounded vibrator inside you intensifies. Against your will, you feel your cunt release a fresh wave of arousal - the wetness trickling out of you and along your thighs. Skin flushing with humiliation at the slickness that coats your flesh, you swiftly open the front door and step into the hotel - the sooner you get to the suite the better.

A pleasant heat assaults your senses as soon as you enter; the warmth a stark juxtaposition to the frigid cold you’d just escaped from. Before you can enjoy the welcomed change, however, the vibrator inside you flares to life. Viciously, it thrums inside you and as the intense vibrations stimulate your inner nerves, your walls unintentionally pulse - a second, thicker gush of wetness slipping out of you and down your thighs. The reverberations take you by surprise, and automatically, you clench your legs. Unable to stop yourself, however,  you let out a high-pitched squeak. Beside you, the doorman gives you an odd look, and cheeks flushing with heat, you turn away from him. Rather, your eyes skim across the foyer.

Surprisingly, despite the lateness of the evening, a hoard of people occupy the hotel’s reception - all of them dressed to impress as they casually mill about - and eyes landing onto the sign at one end of the lobby, you understand why. The hotel is currently hosting some form of speed dating event. Seeing the crowd, an inkling of despair flits through you, especially when you feel the pulsating toy shift inside of you. You continue looking around the palatially decorated room, yet, no matter how many times your eyes sweep across the floor, you can’t seem to locate either of your lovers - whoever it is blending in with the throng of people that loiters around the foyer. Just as your gaze lands on the reception, your pocket buzzes, and pulling out your phone, you look at your newest text.

Dr Dick 👅

        Go straight to the reception. Don’t be late.

Then, as if in a warning, the vibrator’s reverberations intensify for a short moment, before coming to a halt. Unwittingly, a small mewl slips from your lips, and sucking in a deep, steadying breath, you cautiously make your way to the reception counter. As soon as you approach them, the two employees rise to their feet and greet you with a smile.

“How can we help you?” one of them asks. The second you open your mouth to respond, however, the vibrator inside you suddenly begins moving - this time, at a much higher setting than before. The unexpected movement forces a gasp out of you, and body going rigid, you watch as both the receptionists look at you in alarm. Thinking on your feet, you quickly morph your gasp into a forced cough.

Corners of your lips twisting into a weak smile, “Sorry about that. I’ve, uhh, got a reservation under Kim Seokjin,” you respond. Your voice is shaky, and higher than you intended it to be, and responsively both of them look at you oddly. Nonetheless, rather than commenting on your strange behaviour, they nod their head, and turn back to their computer.

“Just give us a moment to find your reservation,” one of them responds, the other beginning to type out something. Feebly, you nod your head, your hands moving to casually drum on the countertop.

Despite your nonchalant demeanour, however, internally you feel your resolve slowly begin to crumble. Molten desire pools within the pits of your stomach with each passing moment, the vibrations of the toy stimulating the deep erogenous zones inside of you and causing bristles of pleasure to prickle at your flesh. Discreetly, you look around, the sight of the crowd causing your blood to bubble with pleasure. They mindlessly mill about, completely unawares to the way the vibrator rhythmically pulses inside of you. Walls rippling, you feel the contractions threaten to push the vibrator out of you, and muscles locking in alarm, you discreetly clench your thighs - willing it further inside of you. Thankfully, on one hand, the movement has it retreating back into the safety of your walls. Thanklessly, on the other, it pushes in deeper, causing your breath to unwittingly hitch when it brushes against a particularly sensitive spot.

“It’s the Princess Suite, you can find it on the forty-third floor. Here’s your key,” the employee states all of a sudden. Their voice draws your attention, and you watch as one of them slides a golden keycard across the marble countertop, “We hope you enjoy your stay with us. Checkout is midday tomorrow,” they continue.

As soon as you pick up the keycard, the vibrator comes to a still. Letting out a quiet exhale, you smile wanly at both the employees, and, “Thank you,” you reply. Then, turning on your heels, you quickly stalk towards the elevator. With each step, the sticky slipperiness of your thighs grows more apparent - your wetness dripping out of you and along your flesh. The sensation causes you to pick up speed, and before long, you approach the lift. Luckily, just as you reach the doors, they open - a young couple exiting out. Not wanting to waste any time, you quickly make your way into the amber-lit chamber and click the button that leads to your floor.

As soon as the elevator doors shut, a tinkling chime ringing through the air, you let out a deep breath of relief. Somehow, you’d done it. Somehow, despite your own embarrassment and consciousness, you’d managed to walk into the hotel completely naked - even with a vibrator pulsing inside of you. Now, you just have to make it to your room. The elevator ride is short, in spite of how high up your reserved suite is, and before long, a familiar bell resounds through the air - signalling your arrival. Lift doors opening, you walk out into the short corridor. Two doors meet your eyes, one one either side of you; and eyes skimming the gold plaques, you locate the one that has ‘Princess Suite’ embossed in black into the surface.

Swiping your keycard through the slot, a low beep alerts you to the bolt unlocking, and without further delay, you enter the room. Automatically, the lights flicker on, and as the space is flooded by croceate lighting, your breath catches in the midst of your throat. The suite is opulent to say the least - rich shades of gold, ivory and walnut meeting your eyes. As you take in the lavishly decorated front room, you can’t help but wonder how much Seokjin and Taehyung shelled out in order to reserve the suite. It must have cost a small fortune. The thought of it causes your stomach to twist, and involuntarily, butterflies bloom within your abdomen.

At the remembrance of your two lovers, your shoulders perk up. You step through the entrance, and after crossing the living room, you make your way to what you assume is the bedroom. Luckily, your guess is right, and immediately, you’re met with the sight of a large four-poster bed - adorned in goose-down pillows and draped in satin sheets. Nonetheless, as inviting as it looks, there’s only one glaring thing missing: Seokjin and Taehyung. From their texts, they’d made it seem as if they were waiting for you. But, apparently, that hadn’t been the case. Corners of your nose scrunching, you move to pull out your phone and call Seokjin, however, before you can, something catches your eyes.

Approaching the mattress, your eyebrow quirks at the sight of the small envelope casually resting at the edge of the bed. Easily recognising the handwriting on the surface, the thin scrawl belonging to none other than Seokjin, you pick up the letter. It’s thicker than you’d thought, and as it rests in your hands, you feel something soft nestled within it. Curiosity piqued, you flip it over, and opening it, you pull out two items - a broad, silk ribbon, and a small piece of paper. ‘Put on the blindfold and wait. We’ll be there for you soon.’ Eyes tracing the words over and over again, a small frown forms at the edges of your mouth. You had to wait even longer? God, whatever they had planned better be worth it.

Despite your slight aggravation, you slip the note back into the envelope and place it back on the bed. Then, perching on the edge of the mattress, you tie the blindfold around your eyes and begin your waiting game. Hunger churns through your bloodstream, your neediness growing with each moment that passes. It doesn’t help that the silken lining of Seokjin’s coat presses flush against your sex, the sleek material clinging to your folds thanks to the lubricious wetness that slicks your cunt. The musky heat at the apex of your thighs grows uncomfortable, and hips squirming, you try to get into a more comfortable position, only to let out a whimper when your pussy glides across the silk-like fabric.

Entrance rippling, you feel your clit throb for attention and a low mewl of wanton need escapes your mouth. Repeating the action, you grind your cunt further into the jacket, and this time, when the fabric brushes against your engorged clit, you let out a hoarse cry. With nothing to distract you, and no one to stop you, you spread your legs a little wider and push your hands between your thighs. Pads of your fingertips grazing your swollen bundle of nerves, a spark of electric pleasure jolts up your spine, and throwing your head back, you groan out in ecstasy.

Hips writhing, you begin grinding into your hand, your fingers dancing across your slit as high-pitched keens intermittently escape your mouth. You can feel how wet you are, a dense film of stick slickness coating your walls; stringy trails of your arousal oozing out of your entrance and onto the sheets. Digits gliding through your cunt, you begin rolling your clit in deep circles, your thighs beginning to tremble. With each roll of your hips, the vibrator shifts inside of you - its surreptitious movements causing your frustration to build up - and unable to bear it any longer, your desperation growing to urgent levels, you lay back on the bed.

Spreading your legs a little wider, you move your hand back to your sex, your fingers slipping past the heavy tweed of Seokjin’s jackets. For a few moments, you trace the outline of your sex - running your fingers across your slit and over your clit - and once the lengths are sufficiently wet, you dip two fingers into your dripping walls. Easily, your entrance accepts the intrusion, and fingertips coming into contact with the toy, your head lolls back and your mouth falls open in a ragged cry. You hook the crook of your second knuckles around the loop attached to the toy, and once it’s secure, you begin pumping your digits in and out of you; simultaneously dragging the smooth silicon toy through your folds. When your fingers push particularly deep, the vibrator pressing flush against your sweet spot, a heavy moan resounds through the air, and knowing your body well, you can feel your orgasm draw nearer.

Fingers picking up speed, you thrust them quicker in and out of you - using both, the pleasure of your digits plunging in and out of you, along with the vibrator stimulating your g-spot - to bring you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure. You have no idea how long passes, with you sitting there, your clit grinding against the silken lining as your fingers pump in and out of you, but soon, you lose yourself in your own pleasure. Thick ropes of arousal drip out of you, pooling under you and percolating into the jacket, undoubtedly leaving a puddle of your arousal in the material. Just as you feel yourself teeter on the precipice of pleasure, your thighs trembling uncontrollably, a low voice cuts through the air.

“Oh? Now, what do we have here?”

Shoulders tensing at the sound, you let out a whimper, your hand immediately coming to a still. Blindfold still wrapped around your head, you can’t see who it is, nor where they are. But, you don’t need to see to know who it is. From the rich, sweet tenor, and the slight wry intonation to his droll, you already know it’s Seokjin. Footfalls pad against the carpet, and as the noise draws nearer to you, you feel your body tremor with anticipation and excitement. Lifting your back, your elbows falling to either side of the mattress as you brace yourself, you look ahead, your head tilting to the side as you’re met with the darkness of the blindfold.

“Seokjin...” you breathe out heavily, the tenseness in your shoulders alleviating as you relax. The older man simply hums, the timbre of his voice resonating through the quiet room. His heavy presence draws nearer to you, until you can feel it loom over you, the hair at the back of your nap standing on edge. Instinctively, even though you’re blindfolded, you tilt your neck up; blindly searching for him. “Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, your head tilting around the room, your ears on alert - searching for any sound that would signal you to his presence.

One hand falls to your stomach, and slipping through the buttoned seam of your coat, you feel long, cool fingers dance across your naked skin. Deft fingers flittering over your bare stomach, “Right here, Kitten,” he drawls, the deep tremor to his voice causing your stomach to quiver.

“Took you both long enough. I’ve been waiting for a while, you know,” you pout, your lower lip jutting out.

“And yet, you couldn’t really wait, could you?” Seokjin hums.

Before you can reply, you feel a pair of plump lips graze across the outer shell of your ear. Warm breath fans across your skin, the feathery sensation causing a shiver of anticipation to run down your spine. All of a sudden, a sharp sting jolts through you, and feeling Seokjin bite down on the tip of your ear, you let out a small yelp. “Hmm, I don’t think either of us told you to play with yourself, did we, Taehyung?” Seokjin questions, his voice low and dangerous. As he speaks, you feel a pair of hands trace the placket of Seokjin’s coat, dexterous fingers systematically unfastening each of the buttons.

“No. I believe our instructions were to ‘Put on the blindfold and wait’,” Taehyung responds, a playful lilt colouring his voice.

With each clasp undone, more and more of your body is revealed to their eyes, until all of a sudden, the material falls to either side of your body - revealing your naked figure. The warmth you’d built up from the jacket immediately dissipates, and cool air descending over your bare flesh, you feel your nipples twist to hardness. Two sharp inhales fill the air, the sounds identical as Seokjin and Taehyung suck in a breath at the sight.

“At least she listened to one of our orders,” Taehyung chuckles, and though his sentence is light and airy, you easily pick up the slight edge to his voice.

Breath hitching, you feel him trail his hand down your abdomen and towards the apex of your thighs. Reaching your pubic mound, he begins tracing lazy circles into your skin, the teasing sensation causing you to mew in pleasure. When his fingertips brush against the hood of your clit, you gasp out his name, your hips autonomously bucking up into his hand. Not wasting a moment, he pushes his digits between your thighs, and swipes them through your dewy lips. A guttural groan spills from your mouth, your head falling backwards as you feel Taehyung delicately toy with the slick creases of your pussy.

“Oh? You’re fucking soaked. Did you enjoy being a nasty little slut?” Taehyung coos; thick derision dripping from his voice, like viscous honey.

On the side of you, a hand trails along your arm, and gently encircling around your wrist, he picks up your own hand. Bringing your fingers up to his mouth, he - Seokjin, you think - begins swiping your wet fingers across the soft folds. Voluptuous lips wrap around your digits, and feeling them enveloped by a wet, warm mouth, your skin flushes with the heat of desire. Seokjin’s tongue begins swirling across the lengths - and between his velvet appendage swiping over your fingers, as well as his mouth intermittently suckling - he cleans off your own arousal.

Releasing them from his mouth with a wet pop, “I think she did,” Seokjin chimes in with a low chuckle. Then, languidly twirling his tongue around the tips of your digits, “Our Princess is a depraved little whore, isn’t she? Getting off while walking around in public naked, with a vibrator inside her,” he continues. Their words have the tips of your ears tinging with heat - this time, with mortification.

“B-But you made me-” you try to argue. As soon as the words slip past your lips, however, Taehyung plunges two fingers inside of you, before splaying them wide. The unexpected intrusion has the vibrator pressing further into you, and paired with the burn of the stretch, your words are quickly morphed into a throaty groan.

“But no one told you to enjoy it so much,” he remarks, a sadistic inflection to his voice, and though you can’t see his face, you can practically feel the smirk that crawls onto his face.

“Enjoy? I-I didn’t-,” you try to counter. One of your nipples slots between two crooked fingers, and twisting them between his knuckles, Seokjin immediately stops your protests. Responsively, you moan, your back arching off of the bed.

“Don’t lie to us, Princess,” he hisses in warning. Then, soothingly stroking your nipple with the pad of his thumb, “We can already tell how much you enjoyed it. You’re so wet I can smell you from here,” he drawls. The vulgarity of his words has your spine tingling, and involuntarily, your entrance quivers around Taehyung’s fingers. In response, Taehyung starts to indolently thrust his digits into you, his thumb simultaneously pressing to your clit as he rolls it in light circles. Pleasure rippling through you, your hips squirm, and you push your sex further into his hand.

Above you, you feel someone’s head dip close to your abdomen, the silken ends of long hair tickling your bare flesh. The man presses a soft kiss to your stomach, just above your naval, and after swirling his tongue through the indentation, “You really are wet…” Taehyung comments. His fingers pick up speed, and hearing the clear squelching sounds of your pussy, Taehyung and Seokjin laugh. “Messy girl,” Taehyung coos.

Seokjin presses his nose to the side of your breast, and after lightly nipping the skin, he languidly swipes his tongue over your hardened nipple. “But we can get you messier, can’t we?” he murmurs.

With that, both of them suddenly draw away from you. Their warmth dissipating from your body, you let out a low whine of protest. Nonetheless, it doesn’t last long, because without a moment’s hesitation, they flip you onto your back - undoubtedly using Seokjin’s coat for help. Thanks to your blindfold, the gesture is unexpected, and startling, you let out a surprised shriek. One hand drags the hem of the coat up, revealing your bare ass to their gaze, and before you can say anything, another hand drops down onto your plump flesh. Pain flares across your skin - the sensation heralded by a sharp slap echoing through the air - causing you to hiss and push your ass back towards the hand.

“Take off the coat,” Seokjin orders,

“Then, get on your hands and knees,” Taehyung commands, their voices resound through the air back to back, as though with practiced ease. Though, realistically, you just know it’s from the amount of time you’ve spent together.

Your body moves on its own, as if trained to obey, and after shedding Seokjin’s heavy coat, you manoeuvre your body onto your hands and knees, your ass sticking in the air. In front of you, you feel the mattress dip, and when the sensual, spiced scent of nutmeg and musk fills your senses, you know it’s Taehyung; another presence behind you alerting you to Seokjin’s positioning. Thanks to your new position, you have no doubt that your body is bared to your lovers in the best way possible, and core trembling - another wave of arousal leaking out of you - you whimper out their names.

“P-Please,” comes your soughed plea.

In front of you, you feel the bed shift, and lifting your head up, you attempt to peek through the partial slit at the bottom of the blindfold. Before you can make out anything, however, you feel someone gently cup your chin between the side of his hand and his thumb. Carefully, yet firmly, he tilts your head downwards - the gesture filled with domineering authority. Pad of his thumb brushing against your lower lip, you feel him delicately trace the outline of your petal.

“Such pretty lips,” Taehyung murmurs. His hold only lasts a few moments, because the next thing you know, he’s letting your chin go. “But do you know when your lips look the prettiest?” he continues. The bed shifts once again, before the rustle of clothing fills the air; the sound accompanied by that of Seokjin rummaging behind you. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, however, Taehyung’s placing his large hand on the back of your head and lowering your face. Within moments, your mouth comes into contact with the leaky velvet of Taehyung’s cockhead; his precum staining your lips.

“Ah,” you gasp, the barest hint of his heady essence tinging your palate.

“It’s when they’re wrapped around my cock,” Taehyung purrs. Mouth watering, you instinctively part your lips and dive forward - blindly. Eyesight obscured, your cheeks slap against the side of Taehyung’s cock, and above you, he laughs, “Such a desperate, cockhungry kitten.” Suddenly, a thud resonates through the air, and feeling the heavy weight of Taehyung’s cock slap your cheek, you let out a little whimper. “Do you want to suck my cock that badly?” he coos.

Nodding your head furiously, you press your cheek further into the velvet hardness and stroke your face against it, “Please, can I?” you question. Laden with a mix of heavy lust and desirous need, your voice has Taehyung’s chest rumbling in approval.

“That’s my Kitten. You’ll be good and take me into your mouth, won’t you?” he asks. Again, you eagerly nod your head. Chuckling, “Open, slut,” he orders.

Not wasting a single moment, your mouth parts open, and with a pleased hum, Taehyung begins to feed you his cock. The moment you feel the weight of his cockhead on your tongue, you seal your lips around his girth; autonomously creating a vacuum-like seal.

Bit by bit, Taehyung pushes his cock into you, one hand faithfully on the back of your head as his shaft presses further and further into your silken wetness. With each inch, the underside drags against the flat of your tongue - dousing your palate in his potent flavour; the taste only causing your mouth to water - and with the aid of your spit, his length easily fills your mouth. Mere moments later, the lip of his cockhead grazing against the back of your tongue, Taehyung’s crown bumps against your tonsils. The feel of his cock pressed against the entrance to your throat causes you to choke, and spluttering around his shaft, you feel your eyes begin to sting with tears.

“Oh… Fuck yeah… Such a pretty cock-stuffed mouth. You always look so good filled with our cocks,” Taehyung moans, undoubtedly relishing in the velvet warmth of your mouth around his girth. Under his praise, you preen, a flutter of pride rippling through you, and in response, you forcibly will your oesophageal muscles to relax.

Out of the blue, and just before you can swallow, you feel a trickling, hot sensation drip down onto the curve of your spine. Heat flares across your flesh, and feeling the sharp sting, you cry out - the sound stifled by Taehyung’s cock. Taken by surprise, you arch your back, the movement inadvertently forcing the shaft further into your mouth, and as a result, you gag. Head jerking in surprise, you try to pull off Taehyung and turn your head towards Seokjin. Nevertheless, keeping a steady hand on the back of your skull, your lover keeps you in place. Swiftly, the heat dissipates, only to be replaced by the soft sensation of Seokjin’s tongue tracing the length of your spine as he licks up whatever it is he’d dribbled onto you.

“W-What is that?” you question, the words muffled as your tongue strains under the velvet weight of his girth.

“Melted chocolate... Spontaneous and thrilling enough for you?” Seokjin murmurs. As he speaks, he runs his tongue over the outline of your backbone, and when he reaches the top of your ass, he grazes his teeth against the plump flesh.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you breathe out, your core quivering in a mix of anticipation and excitement. The blindfold, paired with Seokjin’s actions, has the pits of your abdomen flooding with liquid lust.

Behind you, the older man notices the way the ringed entrance to your cunt pulsates, and with a light chuckle, “You like that, Princess?” he asks. Unhesitantly, you nod your head, the motion causing Taehyung’s cock to jolt within your mouth.

“We thought you would,” Taehyung hums, his fingertips affectionately stroking your scalp. “Now, my Kitten’s going to let me fuck her throat, isn’t she? All while Seokjin plays with you,” he coos, and again, you nod your head. For a brief moment, Taehyung pauses, and then, “I’m going to remove your blindfold now, Kitten. But I want you to keep your eyes on me okay?” he continues.

“Wait- I thought we were going to leave it on?” Seokjin asks. Taehyung shrugs, or at least, you think he does. All you feel is the slight movement of his body.

“I was. But, she looks so pretty when she looks at me with her mouth full of cock,” Taehyung responds.

Exhaling a breath of amusement, “That she does,” Seokjin agrees.

Taehyung slips the blindfold off of you, and lurid beams of flavescent gold flooding your vision, you immediately squint. You blink carefully, allowing your eyes to slowly adjust to the light. It only takes a few moments, and growing accustomed to the luminance, your gaze immediately comes into contact with Taehyung. He sits above you, his back casually pressed to the walnut headboard, and completely naked. Under the croceate lighting, the deep golden undertones of his skin are highlighted, causing his body to be encapsulated by a gilded halo. Thick thighs are spread on either side of your face, the bulging muscles bunched up and spread across the mattress - only making his limbs seem broader.

Through the thick of your lashes, your eyes still slightly blurry from when you’d gagged around his cock, you stare up at him; the sight causing Taehyung to groan in pleasure. Hand slipping from the back of your head to your face, he cups your chin, and angling it up slightly, “Mmmm. That’s one of my favourite sights,” he purrs.

Behind you, Seokjin drips more of the melted chocolate onto your body. Drop by drop, he drizzles the liquified confection along your back, and with each gesture, you feel your skin smart with the heat. Pain interweaves with pleasure, the sharp stings making you hiss and writhe while your walls rhythmically clamp around the silicon vibrator still resting inside you. Your lover allows the chocolate to trickle down your back, forming small, heated rivers of cocoa, and once it cools, he soothes the burn with his tongue - licking and nipping as he leaves his own marks onto your flesh.

With each whorl of his tongue, he effortlessly sucks the drying confectionary off of you, his plump lips dragging across your body. Under his ministrations, your skin turns febrile, and sensitive - from more than just the molten chocolate. Each dribble is erratic - the timing random, and unpredictable - and with Taehyung keeping your eyes firmly locked onto him, you simply can’t foresee when Seokjin is going to dribble the next dollop onto you. Especially since there’s no real pattern; some coming in quick succession - his teeth scraping and biting your flesh, leaving it tender under his ministrations; while others come slowly, with long delays between them - his lips and tongue roving over your back as he licks you up.

Gradually, however, Seokjin trails his way down your spine, until you feel his lips drag against the tops of your plump cheeks. Suddenly, Seokjin pours some more chocolate onto you - this time, directly onto the rounded flesh, and at a much higher volume. It drips down the surface, all the way to the sensitive tops of your thighs, making them quake as you feel it lick trails of fiery pleasure across your skin, only for the swelter to dissipate with moments - leaving you with nothing but the prickling stings of heat. Crying out in pleasure, you thrust your hips backward; directly into Seokjin’s waiting mouth. Silken wetness flat against your cheek, he licks up the molten confection sensually - practically making a meal out of you. His tongue tracks a broad line from the bottom of your ass, all the way to the top, and when he’s cleaned it all up, he harshly bites down on your plump globe.

Hissing in a mix of pain and pleasure, your head automatically moves to look at him. However, gripping your chin firmly, Taehyung tuts at you. “Eyes on me,” he reminds you, punctuating his words with a harsh thrust of his hips. Tip of his cockhead ramming against your tonsils, you splutter around his girth, the reaction causing pools of saliva to surge around your tongue. Inadvertently, it causes you to soak his shaft in your spit, small trails oozing out of the tight seal of your mouth and down his shaft.

Meanwhile, behind you, Seokjin drops his hands to the backs of your thighs, and thumbs pressing to your ass, he spreads you open for him. Nether lips saturated with your wetness, he unabashedly takes in the sight of you: the way the tight ring of muscles twitches, the vibrator threatening to spill out of you, and how your flesh oozes your arousal. Thin, filmy strings of your essence leak from your cunt, the threads clinging to your folds and hanging in the air. Flicking his tongue, he catches one of the ropes on its hollow, and as your laden taste bathes his palate, he lets out a deep groan.

“Mmmm. You taste even better than the chocolate… Such a sweet cunt,” he groans, his lips tickling your pussy with each word. Wrapping his mouth around your folds, he teasingly sucks for a fleeting moment - pulling more of your wetness into his mouth - before releasing them with a wet pop. “I could eat you forever,” he adds with a purr.

Placing the tip of his tongue flat on your pulsing bundle of nerves, Seokjin licks a broad line up the length of your pussy; from the hood of your clit, along your slit, and towards your leaking hole. As your heady taste deepens - the thick slickness coating his taste buds and leaving them heavy with your flavour - he purrs in pleasure. The vibrations dart up your nerves, stimulating every single one, while simultaneously setting them aflame with lust. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation, and loosened by your pleasure, your pharynx eases slightly; allowing the crown of Taehyung’s cock to slip further into your throat.

Seokjin runs the tip of his tongue through the creases of your fold, and after swirling the point around your quivering entrance, he pulls away. Abruptly, he smacks your ass, and biting down harshly onto your ass cheeks - hard enough to leave the indents of his teeth into the surface, “Spread yourself,” he orders. The sharp impact has you yelping around Taehyung’s cock, and flesh of your mouth vibrating along his shaft, his head lolls back in pleasure as he lets out a guttural moan.

You dig your knees further into the bed - using them to both anchor your body, and your weight - before doing as he says. Fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, you spread both cheeks for Seokjin, bearing yourself wide open for him. The new position causes you to fall further onto Taehyung’s shaft, and as his blunt head pierces into you by another inch, you feel your throat constrict - protesting the intrusion. Responsively, you gag, the stifled sound of you retching around his length filling the air as the tears welling in your eyes thicken.

By now, he’s got just under half of his cock buried into the velvet cavern of your mouth; his cockhead pressing mercilessly against the aperture of your pharynx - threatening to slip past the ring of muscles and into your oesophagus. Pools of spit seep out of the straining seal of your lips, dribbling down your chin and over his shaft, leaving your skin glistening under the amber light.  Taehyung takes in the sight of your misted gaze, and spit-stained face, and letting out a derisive coo, he indolently strokes your cheek. Thumb moving to brush your eye, he swipes one of your tears away.

“Such a messy slut,” he purrs, the snark to his words undercut by the affection that colours his eyes.

Deft fingertips tease the folds of your slit, Seokjin running his fingers through your soaked pussy. He hooks his knuckles around the small loop sticking out of you, before harshly tugging at it. As it pulls out of you, your walls stretch around the rounded girth, and easily, it slips from your cunt - aided by the copious amounts of your arousal that coat it. Despite its small size, the moment it’s out of the walls of your core, you whine in displeasure; your pussy feeling empty. However, your dissatisfaction doesn’t last long, because suddenly, an acute sensation of feverish pain floods your senses.

Out of the blue, Seokjin pours a dense stream of the liquified chocolate over the swells of your ass, the deluge flowing down the contours of your plump cheeks and towards your inner thighs - dangerously close to the lips of your cunt. Pained pleasure flares across your flesh, the heat radiating from the chocolate mixing with that of your cunt. Involuntarily, your back arches, and pushing your hips further into the air, you thrust your bare cunt towards Seokjin. Seizing the opportunity, Seokjin drags the broad of his tongue over your flesh, sensually lapping up the chocolate from your body. When his velvet appendage teases the lips of your sex, you moan in pleasure. Muscles of your pussy convulsing, your cunt releases a thick gush of wetness, your juices trickling down your slit and towards Seokjin’s tongue.

Humming under you, Seokjin places the tip of his tongue to your clit. Then, licking a line through your slit, he gathers your arousal onto the dip of his appendage. Your heady essence pools onto his palate, and your innate flavour mixing with the sweetness of the chocolate, Seokjin groans in pleasure. He presses his face deeper into your cunt, and tongue plunging into your rippling entrance, he buries it as far as he can into your internal walls. Feeling the agile muscles glide into your depths, your hips jerk in pleasure, a muffled cry of bliss resonating through the air.

Euphoria blurs your senses, and eyes fluttering shut, you feel your blood bubble with ecstasy. In response, your pharynx eases, and with a well-timed thrust, Taehyung pushes his cockhead further into your throat. Unwittingly, you swallow, and with one smooth motion, Taehyung buries the entirety of his cock into you - aided by the contracting muscles of your throat, and the spit coating his length. The thick of Taehyung’s girth pushes into your silken tightness, and with each inch he forces inside of you, the muscles of your oesophagus stretch - pulling apart around the shape of his member - until your nose is pressed against his abdomen.

“Ah- Fuck yes. That’s my Kitten,” Taehyung praises. Hands moving to grip your head, his fingers card through your scalp, only to fist around the roots of your hair.

Underneath you, Seokjin begins plunging his tongue in and out of you, accentuating each thrust with a whorl of his appendage through your walls. Each swirl has him tasting your pulsating cunt, stroking your inner flesh, and stimulating your nerve ending. Spikes of frenzied want lance through you with every ministration, and body prickling with heat, you sink further into pleasure. Nails digging into your ass, you spread your cheeks wider - purposely allowing Seokjin better access to your dripping entrance - before rocking your hips into his face.

Voluptuous lips tugging into a lopsided smirk, Seokjin retreats his tongue from inside of you. A moan of objection bubbles at the top of your throat, however, just as it starts to spill out of you and around Taehyung’s cock, you watch as the younger man exchanges a look with the older one. Curiosity colours your being, but before you can ponder their interchange, Seokjin suddenly presses something familiar flat against your clit. Abruptly, the vibrator flavours to life, and with it held to your sensitive, needy bundle of nerves, you shriek in pleasure - the sound straining around the shaft buried in your oesophagus.

Your shriek reverberates around Taehyung, and groaning at the stimulation, his hold on your hair tightens. A predatory, borderline sadistic, smirk curls onto your lovers lips, and watching the smile, your stomach somersaults. His eyes flash with mirth, and having known Taehyung for a while, you already know what’s coming - you can tell from his reaction. Without any semblance of a warning, Taehyung retreats his cock out of your throat. The veined underside drags against your tongue, and when his head reaches the aperture of your pharynx, you feel him roughly thrust back into you.

In one, fluid motion, his cock pierces into your throat once again, the feel of his blunt head ramming through the soft tightness of your oesophagus causing you to groan. Immediately, you gag around him, the lewd sounds of wet retching echoing through the air. Nevertheless, your gagging - paired with the rhythmic pulsing of your throat, and its welcoming warmth - only urge Taehyung on. One of his hands moves to wrap around your neck, and thumb pressing against the bulge of his cock, Taehyung begins gently stroking the outline.

Roughly, he begins thrusting in and out of your mouth; using your throat as his personal cocksleeve - as though it was made for his own pleasure. With each snap of his hips, his blunt head rams through your oesophagus, the smooth muscles straining around his girth, and causing your flesh to turn tender. Thumb pressing further onto your distended neck, Taehyung relishes in the feel of his shaft plunging in and out of your mouth. In response, he tightens his hold on your throat, just enough to further feel the shape of his own cock buried inside of you.

“Fuck. You’re so good for me, Kitten. Such a good cockhungry Kitten,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a particularly hard snap of his hips. “Ugh. God. You like this don’t you? You love it when I use your throat like this. When I fuck it hard, and raw,” he continues. The vulgarity of his words causes you to keen in pleasure, and tears spilling freely from your eyes, you look up at him imploringly. “Shit. Look at you. Crying while I bruise your oesophagus. You’re so good for us, Kitten. Fucking- shit,” he moans, his head falling back to rest on the headboard.

Between your thighs, Seokjin relentlessly presses the vibrator against your clit, and as it intensely thrums, you feel your clit smart with pleasure. With how hard it’s pressed to your throbbing bud, the reverberations jolting through every single one of your nerves and setting them on fire, you feel your skin flash with heat. Liquid lust floods your stomach, an intense knot forming deep within its pits. Your thighs quiver on either side of Seokjin’s face, and feeling the intensity of the toy’s thrumming, another wave of tears floods your eyes. As much as you enjoy the pleasure, it’s too much all at once - your neglected clit overly sensitive by now - and as a result, you sob around Taehyung’s cock - even as he continues thrusting it into your throat.

Vehemently, your hips squirm, in a bid to get away from the ferocious vibration. However, Seokjin is stronger than you, and all your struggle does is cause him to press the vibrator even harder into your engorged, weeping bundle of nerves. Heat blisters your skin, hot spikes of euphoria lancing at your being as your orgasm draws nearer and nearer. From the way your entrance erratically convulses, the quiver matched by your thighs and writhing hips, Seokjin knows you’re close. Tongue darting out, he presses the tip to your ringed entrance - relishing in the way it contracts around his appendage - before he tantalisingly traces the outline of your leaking hole.

“Don’t cum,” he orders, a playful lilt to his voice as he practically sings out the words. Despair intermingles with your pleasure at his words. You need to cum. In fact, with how close you are, you don’t think you even have the will to hold off. Something you know he knows. “If you cum, Taehyung will punish you,” Seokjin drawls. As he speaks, his tongue plunges further into your cunt - impaling you on the velvet muscle - and sliding into you, the vibrations of his words spark through your internal walls.

Despite his warning, between the unrelenting vibrator against your clit, and Seokjin’s words reverberating through your internal walls, you feel yourself careen off of the brim of pleasure. Ecstasy surges through you, the overwhelming euphoria of your orgasm flooding your entire being, and causing your blood to bubble within your veins. Body falling forward, your hands fall from your ass and onto the mattress, your toes curling while your fists ball into the sheets. Above you, Taehyung rips his cock out of you, and senses overpowered by rapturous bliss, you barely register the pain of his cock retreating from your oesophagus. Rather, you fall limply onto the bed, your cheek pressing to Taehyung’s thigh as you weep in pleasure.

As you drift off on the wave of your climax, Seokjin pulls the vibrator from your clit, and instead, he begins gently rubbing your clit with his thumb - drawing out your orgasm. Gradually, though, you slowly come back to reality, your breathing ragged as you gasp for air. Muscles still trembling, the fog of your orgasm clears, and you still when you realise you’d disobeyed one of Seokjin’s commands. Lifting your head, you look up at Taehyung through teary eyes, your lover simply looking down at you with a wide grin. Fingers threaded through your hair, he gently strokes your scalp. Yet, in spite of his affectionate gesture, from the dark glint in his eyes, you already know what’s coming.

“Did we give you permission to cum, Kitten?” he coos, his voice deceptively sweet.

“N-No,” you stammer, your voice hoarse, and weak - undoubtedly from when Taehyung had fucked it raw. Behind you, Seokjin bites down onto your ass, the sharp pain causing you to whimper.

“I specifically told you not to cum, Princess,” Seokjin purrs, his lips trailing kisses up your spine.

“I’m s-sorry,” you stammer, though, you already know it’s too late. Especially when you see Taehyung’s smirk widen, something wicked twinkling in his eyes.

Gently stroking your hair, “Sorry? Oh. You will be, Kitten,” he promises.

With that, the two pull away from you, and swapping places, Taehyung moves behind you, while Seokjin moves in front of you. Just like Taehyung, Seokjin is completely naked, and as you take in the sight of him lounging against the headboard, you find yourself drooling. Though, that could just be from when Taehyung had fucked your throat. Seokjin is much more built than Taehyung, sinewy muscles - honed from his time at the gym - rippling under his taut flesh. They accentuate his broad shoulders, and long limbs, somehow making his already imposing figure seem bigger than it already is.

Strong arms encircle your body, and with careful movements, Seokjin moves you back into position - getting you on your hands and knees once again. Limbs still shaky from your orgasm, however, you simply flop in his lap, your shoulders drooping to press against either of his thighs, while your face rests against the corner of his hip. Despite his dominant aura, Seokjin smiles at you, tenderly stroking the sweat-matted hair out of your eyes and behind your head. His affectionate gesture has you purring in contentment; only for the sound to morph into a rumble of wanton need when you spot his throbbing erection.

It stands at full attention between his thighs, tall and proud. His cockhead is an angry shade of cherry-mauve, and sticky with the precum leaking from his slit. From your position on his hip, it somehow looks even more daunting than it usually is, the angle of your head making it seem impossibly thick. Prominent veins streaking his length, they pulse intermittently, the surreptitious movements drawing attention to his immense girth. Mouth salivating - and this time most definitely because of him - your lips part and you whimper.

“Does my Princess want my cock in her mouth?” Seokjin coos, his fingers mindlessly toying with a strand of your hair. Nodding your head, you shift into a more upright position, your mouth impatiently hovering over his crown. Seokjin’s hand trails down to your neck, and when you wince - the internal muscles still raw - he delicately strokes the column, “Taehyung was rough with you, wasn’t he?” he murmurs. You simply nod your head in response.

“She liked it,” Taehyung chimes in from somewhere in the room, and hearing his voice further away then you’d thought him to be, you turn your head to find him. Nevertheless, this time, it’s Seokjin who stops you.

“Uh-uh. Taehyung’s had enough of your attention. Now it’s my turn,” Seokjin tuts. Hand moving from your neck, he grips the base of his shaft before smacking your lips with his cockhead twice. “Come on, Princess,” he urges.

Not needing to be told twice, your head dips forward, and tongue darting out, you drag a kittenish lick around the circumference of his glistening crown. Taste buds dragging over his cockhead, his salted precum coats your palate, and you moan in pleasure - the sound emphasised by Seokjin’s own growl of approval. Encouraged by the sound, you repeat the action -  your tongue slower this time. Placing the flat of your muscle against his slit, you lap at it, relishing in the way his arousal leaks out of him and directly onto your tongue.

Watching the action with dark eyes, “Do I taste good, Princess?” he chuckles, causing you to eagerly nod. “Then how about you worship my cock, huh?” he asks, his fingers weaving into your hair.

Warm lips brushing against his frenulum, you place a soft kiss to where his cockhead meets his shaft. Then, while keeping your eyes firmly locked onto his, you delicately trace one of the more prominent veins that ridge his shaft. Rhythmically, it pulses under the weight of your wet muscles, and savouring the discernible throb, you repeat your action. Following it to the hilt of his shaft, you take one of his balls into his mouth. You roll it gently in your mouth, revelling in the way it sits on your tongue - heavy, and full of cum. The entire time, you stare up at your lover; Seokjin’s eyes growing more and more tumultuous with each reverent action.

You release his sac with a pop, and lips dragging over the length of his underside, you track your way back to his cockhead. Mouth parting, you wrap it around his tip, only to teasingly suckle at it. Your action has Seokjin’s head lolling back, and with your gazes still locked onto each other, you take more of his head into your wanting cavern - until the entire cockhead sits just inside the seam of your lips. And it’s at that exact moment, that Taehyung returns - only to push something against the rim of your ass.

Eyes bugging out, a cry of pleasure tears from your throat - your mouth falling open around Seokjin’s cockhead. Relentlessly, Taehyung presses the toy into you - the tight of your walls gradually opening around the rounded, lubed up object. The widest part of the item strains against your puckered entrance, and feeling a light smart of pain, your body jerks when the entirety of it slips into you - your muscles swallowing it up. Fingertips brushing against your asshole, Taehyung grips something, only to twist it - and feeling the toy spin inside of your ass, you let out a moan.

Your pleasure doesn’t last long, however, because soon enough, Taehyung is pressing the elongated protrusion right up against your clit. Feeling the silicon rod nestled between the folds of your pussy, and the silicon pad against your bundle of nerves, you let out a whimper. You know exactly what it is. An anal vibrator paired with a clit stimulator. As you recognise the item, your cunt gushes involuntarily. Whatever punishment Taehyung had planned for you was undoubtedly going to be exciting - if a little intense. Though, that only has anticipation colouring your veins.

Dark gaze transfixed to your ass, Taehyung revels in the sight of your asshole quivering around the toy, and unable to help himself, he spanks your ass - hard. The sharp slap echoes through the air, causing you to cry out and jerk forward, Seokjin’s cockhead dragging across your lips and over your chin. Watching the flesh of your plump cheeks ripple, Taehyung places either of his hands onto each globe before kneading them open.

“Your ass always looks so fucking hot when it’s filled up… Can’t wait to fill it with my cock,” he murmurs; the compliment causing you to croon out his name.

However, you don’t have long to relish in his appraisal. Because, all of a sudden, the vibrator comes to life. Fiercely, it begins thrumming, stimulating the inner muscles of your ass. At the same time, the protrusion along your folds and clit begins to vibrate - the tremors stimulating your slick folds and throbbing bundle of nerves. With your recent orgasm, your cunt is still sensitive, and pleasure bolting across your sensitised nerves, you howl in pleasure. Jerking over Seokjin, your head falls onto his abdomen - his erect cock inadvertently slapping your face - while your hips writhe wildly.

“Oh fuck- Taehyung, too much,” you gasp, your ass thrashing reckless as you try to get away from the pleasure. Regardless, no matter how hard you try, the vibrator is firmly embedded inside of you - making it impossible to shy away from it.

“Too much? You don’t know too much just yet, Kitten,” Taehyung drawls. Still, even as he speaks, “Remember Princess, your safe word is ‘Roses’,” he reminds you.

“And your safe signal is snapping your fingers,” Seokjin adds. You nod your head, letting them both know that you remember.

“Good girl,” Seokjin praises with another caress of your hair. Then, lifting your head, he places your mouth above his cockhead once again. “Now, why don’t you warm my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, while Taehyung punishes you for being a disobedient slut,” Seokjin purrs.

Whimpering at his words, you do as he says, your lips automatically pouting as you take him into your mouth once again. Jaw straining around his girth, you stare at Seokjin through the thick of your lashes, basking in the heavy weight of his length against your tongue. Sooner than you’d like, his crown bumps into the back of your throat, a choked gag warning Seokjin that you can’t fit any more of him into you - lest he repeat Taehyung’s actions and force himself into your throat. However, knowing your throat needs some respite, Seokjin simply keeps himself within the confines of your mouth; revelling in the wet chasm of your silken cheeks and velvet tongue.

Out of the blue, using the moment you audibly splutter around Seokjin’s cock as a signal, Taehyung pours a considerable amount of melted chocolate onto you - all over your ass. Back arching, you hiss as the sweltering heat trickles all over your plump cheeks: trails of blistering pain flaring over your flesh. The stinging ache, paired with the intense vibrations of the toy inside your ass and against your clit, has your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. Entire body convulsing under the intense sensation, you’re suddenly flung over the edge of your orgasm, and straight into bliss.

Orgasm unexpectedly flooding through you, the unadulterated rapture surges through your nerves, invigorating each and every one of them with euphoria. Eyes screwing shut, you wail out Taehyung and Seokjin’s names; the sound coming out animalistic, and inarticulate. Responsively, the walls of your sex clamp: your ass muscles tightening around the vibrator - unwittingly causing the vibrations to intensify; while the flesh of your cunt contracts around nothing - emphasising the growing emptiness. Watching you cum, the vibrator suddenly comes to a halt, and gasping for air, you suck in a ragged breath.

Gradually, your orgasm washes through you, leaving you a trembling mess while you mindlessly suckle at Seokjin’s cock. Cool hand pressing to your thighs, Taehyung tenderly strokes the supple lengths, the repetitive motions somewhat soothing. The heat from the molten confection slowly dissipates, and through the haze of your ebbing climax, your eyebrows furrow - especially when you feel the chocolate begin to dry and harden. Sucking in a shaky breath, you look up at Seokjin curiously, your lover simply shrugging in response - already knowing what you’re asking.

“Don’t worry, Princess. Just focus on my cock, hmmm?” he reminds you. Blinking owlishly, your eyes light up with recognition - the fog of your euphoria completely clearing. Tongue flicking against his ridged underside, you begin suckling at him once again.

Without warning, Taehyung spanks you - from the tops of your thighs, to the plump flesh of your ass. Unlike before, when it was just his large palm, this time you feel a hard surface impact the supple skin, and eyes widening you recognise the sensation of the paddle. The abrupt ministration has you mewling around Seokjin’s cock, and eyelids fluttering, thick tracks of tears roll down your face. Once again, Taehyung repeats the action, though, this time, he brings the paddle onto your other cheek. Hips undulating, you push them back into him, another hoarse resonating through the air. Under his action, you feel the hardened chocolate crack, a few pieces falling to the mattress.

Taehyung shifts behind you, and picking up one of the chunks, he runs it through your pussy. Teasingly, he strokes it through your slit - the touch light, and feathery - and bringing it to your honeyed hole, he slicks the jagged slab in your arousal. A shudder runs down your spine, the tantalising caress of his fingers and the pointed edge of the chocolate causing you to groan around Seokjin’s shaft. Once the piece is sufficiently coated in your wetness, Taehyung draws it away from your cunt. Instead, he reaches around your body, Seokjin tugging your hair and pulling you off of his cock.

Dissatisfied whine of protest erupting from the midst of your throat, you unwrap your mouth from Seokjin’s thick shaft - just in time for Taehyung to drop the slick-coated chocolate directly onto the older man’s length. Pupils dilating at the sight of the dark confection against your lover’s shaft, your tongue darts out, and thoughtlessly, you lick your lips. Seokjin watches the movement, his eyes shining with mirth at the ravenous hunger sparkling in your eyes.

Stroking your hair out of your forehead, “Are you ready for your punishment, Princess?” Seokjin questions.

“This is punishment?” you counter, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. Hearing your words, Taehyung immediately brings the paddle onto your ass. The impact hits harder this time, a heavy smack resounding through the air while more of the dried chocolate falls from your body. Sharp pain erupts over your tender flesh, causing shockwaves of smarting pleasure to ripple across your veins.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Kitten,” Taehyung warns, the edge of the paddle running down the seam of your ass, only for him to press it against the toy in your ass. His gesture has the vibrator pushing in deeper, and head falling forward, your chest rumbles in bliss.

An airy laugh tremors from Seokjin’s throat, “Your punishment is Taehyung paddling that pretty little ass till it’s nice and tender,” he purrs. Then tugging your head towards his cock, the piece of chocolate still resting precarious on his throbbing erection, “This is just for fun,” he continues. “Now, suck.”

Face lowering, you wrap your mouth around his cock once again, Seokjin slipping the chocolate between your teeth just before you enclose your lips around his girth. Instantly, the creamy sweetness of the cocoa bursts onto your palate, the sugary essence mixing with the heady one of your own wetness, and the slightly salty bitterness of Seokjin’s precum. They mingle together onto your tongue, the tastes blending together into an inebriating flavour that has the inner flesh of your cheeks salivating. Moaning around the heavy intrusion in your mouth, you expertly manoeuvre the piece to the underside of Seokjin’s cock, and pressing the flat of your tongue against it, you begin lapping at both the chocolate, and his shaft.

Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail, Seokjin angles your head to look up at him. Turbulent eyes, rife with desirous hunger, take you in, before he lets out a low growl, “God, Taehyung was right. You really are pretty when you look at us with a mouth full of cock.” You purr in response, your tongue dragging over the chocolate and towards a pulsating vein that runs along his length. Out of nowhere, the vibrator inside of you begins humming. The suddenness of it has your body jerking, your spine contorting as your mouth falls open in pleasure.

“O-Oh f-fuck,” you raspily weep, your eyes screwing shut at the mingling sensations. Simultaneously, the vibrations stimulate the tight muscles of your ass, along with the throbbing bud of your clit. Unadulterated bliss floods your nerve endings, your stomach quivering in tandem to the pulsating toy within you. Breathing turning ragged, you distractedly suckle at Seokjin’s chocolate stained cock.

As the vibrator pulses inside you, Taehyung brings the paddle onto your ass again in four rapt slaps, alternating between each of your cheeks. With each impact, the punishing force increases, aided by his strong arms, and causing a strangled cry of pain and pleasure to bubble from your throat. Every collision of the hard surface against your soft cheek has more and more of the dried chocolate cracking and falling off of your skin. More of your bare flesh revealed, the next of Taehyung’s spanks lands directly onto your plump muscle, and though the fatty tissue absorbs some of the impact, your ass still flares with heat.

“P-Please… T-Taehyung,” you cry out, the words hoarse and slightly broken.

Between the intense reverberations of the silicon toy, and the powerful spanks of the paddle, you begin to sob and moan: the blistering pain interweaving with euphoric rapture. Tears well within your eyes, thick tracks of salt running down your cheeks, as you lose yourself in the juxtaposing sensations. Taehyung’s eyes drop to the side of your raw ass and puffy cunt. Filled with the silicon toy, your puckered rim twitching intermittently - the tight muscles threatening to push out the object with each contraction. Just below, thick strings of your arousal seep out of your pussy, the filmy ropes hanging in the air and sticking to the sides of your thighs.

“Do you like that, Kitten? The way I spank your ass raw while you suck Seokjin’s cock?” Taehyung intones, the derisive lilt heavy in his voice. You merely let out a garble of affirmation, your tongue loosened by pleasure, and weighed down by the velvet weight of your other lover’s shaft.

The overwhelming ecstasy soon grows far too intense, and wildly, you begin writhing your hips. Deliberately, you attempt to evade Taehyung’s paddles, while simultaneously trying to push the vibrator out of you. Nonetheless, as if locked onto your plump globes, Taehyung strikes you with practiced ease; alternating between the harsh spanks and pressing the edge to your ass, keeping the toy pressed into the snug heat of your ass. A sweltering heat overcomes you, your nerves set afire by Taehyung’s ministration, and thighs shaking erratically, you sob out the names of your lovers.

“T-Too m-much. It’s t-too much,” comes your distorted whine, your nails scratching the mattress.

Hearing the inarticulate garble of your words, Seokjin coos, “Aww, has my Princess had enough of her punishment?” Through the thick fog of pleasure, you vaguely register his words and nod your head. Behind you, Taehyung brings the paddle onto your cheeks - right in the middle - causing you to howl.

“Are you sorry, Kitten?” he questions. Barely able to form coherent sentences, you nod your head while blubbering. Nonetheless, despite your answer, Taehyung spanks you once again. “Why are you sorry?” he asks.

You suck in a shaky, jagged breath, “I’m s-sorry for cumming w-without your p-permission,” you weep.

“Good Kitten. Now, cum,” Taehyung orders, pressing the paddle’s edge to the toy. His ministration forces the thrumming vibrator further into you, and as the silicon protrusion presses against your clit - intensifying the reverberations - you wail out both their names.

Dry sob emanating from your lips, the heightened pleasure hurtles you off of the edge. Viciously, your body trembles - every muscle quivering with ecstasy - as you come undone between them. Mouth falling open, you release Seokjin’s cock, your cheek falling listlessly onto his thigh as your orgasm rockets through you. White spots blind your vision, and the knot in your stomach unravelling abruptly, your body stills. Then, with an ear-piercing shriek, an intense sense of rapture overwhelms you, only to be replaced by an intoxicating sense of relief - powerful gushes of your cum squirting out of you. Feeling your arousal pelt his thighs - the deep scent of your sex deepening - Taehyung lets out a groan.

Immediately, he rips the toy out of you - the sudden stimulation making you sob harder - only to press his fingers to your clit. He furiously begins rubbing your clit, his ministration drawing out your orgasm even further. The pain of overstimulation grips at your cunt, and eyes screwing shut, your jerk your hips - in a bid to get away from him. Seeing the way you shy from him, along with your fucked out state, Taehyung takes pity on you, allowing you to flop bonelessly onto the mattress as you come down from your high. The tide of your climax ebbs through you, and drifting down to reality, you inhale a deep, ragged breath. Cunt trembling erratically, you whine when the ache between your thighs grows prominent - your walls desperate to feel something fill it up.

“F-Fuck me,” you stammer, your words weak and raspy - the tender muscles of your throat straining under the sound. Delicately, Taehyung’s fingers flit down your spine, and tracing invisible shapes onto the surface of your skin, he bends over and presses a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Climb onto Seokjin,” he urges.

Strong arms wrap around you, and feeling Seokjin gather you into his arms, you allow him to place your body onto his lap. Once your thighs are straddling his hips, Seokjin grips the base of his thick shaft and runs the head through your folds. A wanton mewl spills from your mouth, your sex splaying around his leaking cockhead as he stains your saturated flesh in his own precum. Hips squirming, you attempt to position him at your entrance and take him into you - your desperation rising twofold. Letting out a throaty chuckle, Seokjin leans forward and nips your jaw, your eyes fluttering at the sensation, before he lowers you onto his cock.

The blunt pressure of his crown presses up against the ringed muscles of your entrance, and your head falling backwards, you feel his head pop into you. Your body twitches, the sudden, thick intrusion causing you to croon in pleasure. A searing burn ripples through your cunt, your muscles protesting the way his immense girth stretches out your inner walls. Behind you, Taehyung places his hand onto the middle of your back, and pushing it, he causes you to fall forward. Your hands instantly move to brace themselves on the headboard, on either side of Seokjin’s body.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Such a tiny little cunt. Are you going to be able to take my cock, Princess?” Seokjin taunts, a playful, lopsided smirk teasing at his lips.

Keening in pleasure, “I can take it,” you respond, the words coming out higher pitched than you’d intended.

“Then take it,” he growls.

Utilising your new position, Seokjin’s hands trail down to grip the swells of your hips, and fingers digging into them, he lowers you further onto his cock. Inch by inch, he fills you up - the broad width of his shaft spreading your innermost walls, shaping them around his cock. As his cock pierces into the warm sheath of your body, his length seems almost unending, and soon, a dull pressure builds up within your abdomen. Dropping your gaze down, it trails past the ripped expanse of his torso - each muscle rippling under his taut skin - and towards your entrance.

Guttural groan spilling from your throat, you relish in the sight of Seokjin’s cock impaling you - your walls clenching involuntarily when you realise he’s only about half way into you. Walls of your cunt tightening around his shaft, Seokjin lets out a growl, his fingers digging further into your hips - hard enough that you worry he’ll bruise them. Behind you, Taehyung’s dark eyes are fixated onto your cunt, his gaze soaking in the way the muscles of your entrance stretch thin around Seokjin - your cunt clearly straining to fit the large intrusion. It’s almost too erotic for him, and his erection becoming almost too painful, he begins pumping it with his fist.

“Fuck. Look at the way that pussy stretches. Such a greedy little hole,” Taehyung purrs, his hand palming his cock faster.

Seokjin continues burying himself into your velvet depths, and as he pushes deeper into you, the dull ache in your stomach morphs into a blunt ache. Mouth falling open in a strained cry, your fingers curl around the headboard - in a bid to find some much needed purchase - your knuckles turning white under the hold. Breath turning harsh, your hips start to writhe, your body looking for a sense of reprieve from the unrelenting hardness piercing into you. Nonetheless, all you do is cause Seokjin to slip further into you - your trembling walls rhythmically gripping his walls in a pleasurable massage.

Unexpectedly, with a sudden thrust, Seokjin sinks the remainder of his cock into you. In one fluid motion, the crown of his cockhead bumps into the soft walls of your cervix, your ass simultaneously pressing flush against his thighs. The sudden plunge has your muscles locking, and back contorting viciously, you cry out in pleasure. Pain flares through your insides, a blistering heat flooding through your cunt as your internal walls are forced to stretch around his girthy shaft. Underneath you, Seokjin hisses - your sheath gripping him almost painfully - and leaning forward, he roughly bites down onto your nipple.

“Oh fuck- you’re so fucking wet… and tight,” he groans.

“Mmm, her cunt looks so good stuffed with cock,” Taehyung hums. Dexterous fingers moving to where both you and Seokjin are connected, the younger man begins tracing the tight seal of your entrance. The feathery motion has you crooning, your ringed muscles twitching under his touch. Taehyung lets out a soft laugh, and trailing his fingers up, he begins circling his digits around the puckered rim, “But… you’ll look even better with my cock in your ass,” he continues.

Hands curling from your hips to your ass, Seokjin palms both of your plump globes into his hand, and fingernails pressing into your skin, he pulls them apart - splaying you open for Taehyung. At Seokjin’s gesture, the younger man lets out a hum of thanks. Bed dipping behind you, Taehyung shifts further down the mattress, until his face is level with your spread ass. Boldly, his tongue darts out, and then placing it to your cunt, he licks at both your spread pussy, and Seokjin’s thick cock. Twin sounds of pleasure echo through the air, Seokjin’s groan intermingling with your moan, both of your hips bucking into Taehyung’s face.

Corners of his lips twitching, Taehyung smirks, and repeats the action - the velvet appendage moving slower this time. Teasingly, he laves at where your sexes are connected: the point of his tongue tracing the outline of your straining ring of muscles, as well as the girth that splits it open. Heavy strings of your arousal pool onto his tongue, your wetness oozing through your sheath and onto Seokjin’s balls, and he gathers as much as he can onto the hollow of his palate. Then, trailing his tongue upwards, he licks through the seam of your ass. Breath caught in your throat, your oesophageal muscles tighten, and when you feel him flatten his tongue against your asshole, a deep moan emanates from your chest.

“My Kitten loves getting her ass eaten, doesn’t she?” Taehyung laughs, his voice lowering by a few octaves. Each word has his warm breath wafting over your ass, causing you to shudder and nod your head. With another laugh, Taehyung spits onto your asshole - dribbling a concoction of his own spit and your arousal onto the tight entrance.

You feel the mixture tail along your asshole, and down towards your filled cunt - the combined fluids slickening your puckered rim. Through rapt fascination, Taehyung scrutinises the sporadically twitching rings of muscles. The entrance of your ass slightly gapes, and as the muscles contract, they inadvertently suck in the mix of juices into you. As though entranced by the sight, he drags his finger through the sloppy mess and lubricates his finger in as much of it as he can. Then, slowly, he presses the tip of his forefinger against your asshole.

Body perking at the sensation, you sit up slightly - the movement causing Seokjin’s cockhead to ram further into the groove of your cervix. A gasp of shock falls from your lips, the sound mingled with pleasure, as you feel Taehyung slide his finger into your ass - the length aided by the makeshift lube - until it’s hilt deep in you. Experimentally, he wriggles it inside of you, and feeling the hot muscles of your ass stimulated, your body falls forward once again. Seizing the opportunity, Seokjin’s mouth encloses around your pert nipple.

“A-Ah. Hyungie…  Jinnie…” you moan, a shudder running down your spine at the mix of sensations.

Seokjin’s cock is still completely sheathed inside of you - his pulsating member stroking every single one of your erogenous zones. Meanwhile, his teeth harshly tease your nipple - his tongue languidly whorling around the hardened buds outline, while he bites and suckles at it roughly. At the same time, Taehyung thrusts his finger into you, twisting it intermittently as he tests the pliancy of your ass. Tingles of pleasure race up and down your spine, and noticing the way your cunt clenches - pulsating in tandem to Taehyung’s finger plunging in and out of your asshole - Seokjin grins against your breast.

“Come on Taehyung, hurry up and prep that cute ass so we can fuck her,” he urges. Words vibrating against your tit, you gasp in ecstasy, a fresh wave of arousal dripping out of you and down Seokjin’s balls.

Emboldened by the older man’s words, Taehyung presses a second finger into your back entrance. Under the ministration, your features twist into a wince - a dull sting rippling through you at the stretch. However, from the amount of times both Seokjin and Taehyung have fucked your ass, it quickly dissipates, morphing into blissful euphoria. Taehyung begins thrusting two fingers into your ass, alternating between wiggling them and plunging them hilt deep into you. Over and over again, you feel his digits drive into you, the sensation stimulating Seokjin’s cock and your pussy through the thin lining that separates your cunt from your ass.

Out of nowhere, Taehyung splays his fingers, and feeling your ass stretch around, you let out a hollow moan. Taehyung immediately thrusts his tongue into the gaping hole, and feeling his wet appendage stroke the inner walls of your back entrance, your hollow moan transforms into a guttural groan. Expertly, he licks your ass, his velvet muscle whorling against the internal flesh as he douses them in a thick coating of his spit. His actions cause your blood to bubble in your veins, and heat prickling at your skin, unbridled pleasure flits over your being.

Pulling his tongue out of you, Taehyung pours something into you. A cold sensation floods your ass, and feeling the lube slide into your depths, a soughed croon spills from your lips. Digits pumping into you once again, Taehyung spreads the substance over your walls - leaving them slick in a mixture of his spit and the lubrication. Once your ass is sufficiently wet, he spreads his fingers one final time, only to spit into your ass. The thick blob slides into your open hole, and as the warmth of it runs along your walls, your puckered rim twitches. Fingers retreating out of your asshole, Taehyung suddenly spanks your fleshy cheek.

Hand palming at the cheek, “There we go. Nice and prepped,” he murmurs.

“Taehyung… please,” you whimper, and urgency evident in your voice, both your lovers laugh.

Not one to disappoint, Taehyung shifts closer to you. With Seokjin still keeping your ass spread, the younger man grips his cock and presses the head to your puckered entrance. Feeling his leaking cockhead stroke your lubricious back entrance, you mewl in wanton need and purposely buck your hips into you. Palm dropping to the small of your back, Taehyung keeps a heavy hand onto your body, the firm pressure causing you to still. Then, he begins pressing forward. The moment he applies pressure to your asshole, however, your muscles autonomously clench.

Bulbous cockhead pushing against your back entrance, Taehyung groans, “This is going to be a tight fit.”

All of a sudden, with a strong thrust, Taehyung squeezes his cock through the tight ring of muscles - the crown only slightly fighting the constricting hole. Walls flaring with a searing burn, you shriek out Taehyung’s name - your asshole rendered even tighter by Seokjin’s immense girth buried into your cunt. Face lowering, Taehyung’s plump lips graze over your shoulder, and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, he gently hushes you. Below you, Seokjin soothingly lavishes kisses along your sternum, his hands caressing your ass in comfort.

“B-Big,” you shallowly gasp, tears stinging at your eyes once again.

“You can do it, Princess,” Seokjin murmurs, his words rumbling between the valley of your breasts.

Thick by thick inch, Taehyung feeds his unyielding hardness into your ass, pulling the flesh apart and around the shape of his cock. With every part of his length that impales you, your pliant back entrance stretches - his blunt cockhead spearing further and further into you. Halfway buried into you, you let out a whine of pain, your fingernails digging into the wood of the headboard. Between Seokjin’s cock in your cunt, and Taehyung’s shaft pushing into your asshole, you’re sure that you’re going to split apart.

“So… fucking… tight,” Taehyung breathes out, short pants breaking the words apart, the restraint heavy in his baritone.

In spite of the pain that floods through your sex, you whimper in pleasure - an undercurrent of euphoria weaving the stinging ache as your lovers fill you up in a way only they can. Their hard cocks stretch you out, their lengths carving their shape into your waiting, and welcoming, depths. Eventually, however, Taehyung bottoms out within you - the hilt of his shaft pressing to your puckered, while his hips slap the plump cheeks of your ass. Throat tightening at the overwhelming fullness, your lips part in a silent scream.

“T-Taehyung, S-Seokjin” you whimper.

Nuzzling his nose into the back of your hair, “I’m here, Kitten,” Taehyung mutters.

“Me too, Princess,” Seokjin follows, his own lips pressing a tender kiss to your nipple.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you voluntarily clench your ass around his their cocks. As your muscles tighten, “Fuck-” they groans.

“Please… fuck me,” you urge. Simultaneously, as if they’ve practiced, they both inhale a deep, steadying breath.

“Shit. Hold on then,” Seokjin remarks.

“Get ready, Kitten. We’re going to fuck you till you cry,” Taehyung warns.

You open your mouth to retort, however, at the exact moment, the both of them retreat out of you - their lengths dragging against each other through the thin lining between your cunt and ass. Then, abruptly, they drive back into you. Instantaneously, the words on your lips die. Instead, a strangled cry of ecstasy is forced from the base of your throat. Without any further warning, they snap their hips, their cocks hammering into your warm, heated depths. As their lengths surge into the sheath of your body, you scream out their names.

Their pace is stilted for a few moments, their rough thrusts causing your body to jerk and bounce over them as blinding ecstasy overtakes your senses. However, swiftly, and with practiced ease, they quickly fall into rhythm with each other. Each movement has them plunging their cocks as deep into you as they can, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air, and with each sound, they elicit a moan from deep within their chest. A fierce pressure builds in the pit of your abdomen from their brutal thrusts, and toes curling in pleasure, you allow them to practically rut into you - their cocks slamming into your depths over and over again.

“F-Fuck… H-Harder,” you urge, in spite of the sharpening ache that builds within your stomach.

At your behest, they somehow increase their movements, and their new, borderline punishing pace, has your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. Their change in motion alters their rhythm, and instead of plunging into you at the same time, now, when Seokjin thrusts into your cunt, Taehyung pulls out of your ass. Only for Seokjin to then retreat from your cunt, and for Taehyung to pierce his shaft into your back entrance. Mercilessly, they use your body as their cocksleeve, and their veined cocks drag against every single erogenous zone buried in your innermost walls.

A mix of desirous need and blissful euphoria courses through your bloodstream, and feeling spikes of white-hot heat lance at your being, your body begins trembling. Delirious with pleasure, and as a result of their cocks constantly slamming into you, your low moans morph into slurred sobs. The fog of euphoria descends upon you, and as its haze clouds your mind, you lose yourself into the relentless pleasure they reap onto your body. Soon, your walls begin rippling around them, and as both your cunt and ass grip their shafts, both your lovers let out throat groans.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last long. Your ass is so... fucking... tight,” Taehyung intones deeply, each word emphasised by a harsh thrust that drives his cock further into your back entrance.

Below you, while mouthing at your bouncing tit, “Same here. God, you’re so fucking wet… and your cunt won’t stop tightening around my cock,” Seokjin breathlessly adds before biting onto your nipple.

“C-Cum in me. P-Please,” you stammer, and tongue loosened by pleasure, your words come out distorted. Nonetheless, understanding them, your lovers quicken their pace - something you’d thought wholly impossible.

“Are you close, Princess?” Seokjin questions, causing you to nod your head furiously.

Taehyung’s hand curls around your body, and pushing it between your thighs, he begins furiously rubbing your clit. Lips falling to your shoulder, he bites down - hard enough to leave the indents of his teeth into your flesh - and, “Cum,” he orders.

That one action has you suddenly careening off of the precipice of your climax, and diving head first into sheer, unadulterated pleasure. A croaked sob falls from your lips, and blubbering out their name, you feel hot tears stream down your cheeks. Veins sweltering with burning euphoria, you feel the heat of your orgasm flood your entire being. Between them, your entire body begins convulsing, and back contorting violently, your walls clamp around them in a vice-like grip. Throughout your orgasm, your lovers continue fucking into you, their cocks spearing into your cunt and ass respectively, paired with Taehyung ruthlessly toying with your clit, you feel the knot in your stomach suddenly loosen.

High of your orgasm consuming you wholly, you feel an overwhelming elation sweep through you, and carrying you on it’s tide, you float away from reality. Walls clenching almost painfully, Seokjin and Taehyung hiss as they feel powerful jets of cum squirt out of you - the wetness gushing against both their thighs, as well as Seokjin’s abdomen. As you gush around Seokjin’s cock, your cum soaking into the sheets below you, twin roars fill the air. Using your own stick juices as lubrication, both of them slam into you at the same time - burying their cocks as deep into you as is humanly possible.

Without any warning, their cocks swell inside of you, and viciously pulsating, they begin to cum. Thick rope after thick rope of their warm essence floods your depths; Seokjin emptying himself deep into your cunt - his seed spilling directly against your quivering cervix - while Taehyung’s own cum pours straight into the rippling depths of your ass. Through the blurry haze of your orgasm, you vaguely register their warmth enveloping your guts, their heavy seed painting your flesh white. Responsively, the walls of your pussy and ass clench around their cocks, the battered muscles milking as much of their cum out of their lengths and into you.

The three of you sail down from your ecstatic highs, and as the euphoria ebbs away, you’re left basking in the post-orgasmic haze that enshrouds the three of you. Chest heaving for air - in a bid to satiate the dull ache in your lungs - you bonelessly flop onto Seokjin, every ounce of your energy dissipating from your bones. Automatically, Seokjin’s arms wind around you, a small mewl slipping from your lips when you feel his warm chest press flush against your own. Body still wired, you tremble in his arms - your muscles quaking intermittently as the aftershocks of your orgasm continue sweeping through you.

Gradually, the blurry fog clears from your mind, and brain kicking into gear, you let out a small moan when you feel the way their cum fills up your depths. You don’t get time to relish in the feeling, however, because soon, Taehyung begins pulling his cock out of your ass. Flaccid shaft slipping from your depths, you flinch, his length dragging across your raw inner flesh. The moment he retreats out of you completely, his cum rushes out of you, and as it leaks from your gaping asshole, you let out another groan. Eyes dropping to the sight, Taehyung lets out a growl of approval.

“Sloppy slut,” he coos, and despite the derisive words, the affection in his intonation causes you to preen. Then, with a kiss to your naked, sweat-soaked shoulder, you feel Taehyung climb off of the bed.

With the younger man disappearing, Seokjin takes the opportunity to gently flip the two of you over. Body weary, your muscles protest the movement, a displeasured groan emanating from your throat. Seokjin only chuckles at the sound, and when you're firmly on your back, he slowly pulls his own cock out of your battered cunt. Once again, you let out a wince, your thighs trembling at the sensitivity in your core. Bending forward, Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead, before murmuring a gentle apology. You sigh at his gesture, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

In a matter of moments, Taehyung returns to the two of you, a glass of water and a damp towel in his head. As he approaches the bed, he hands Seokjin the cup, the older man pulling away from you and towards your side, while Taehyung takes his place between your thighs. Perching beside you, Seokjin lifts your back using his strength, and after he’s propped you up, he places the rim of the glass to your lips. Coolness of the water teasing your lips, your throat suddenly feels dry, and swiftly, you gulp down the drink.

“Slowly,” Seokjin warns, his hand automatically lowering the glass. You merely nod your head, before slowing down.

Meanwhile, Taehyung spreads your thighs, pulling apart your puffy folds, he begins swiping the warm cloth through your sex - clearing up the mess. Delicately, he runs the towel over you, from your leaking cunt, to your dripping asshole. It only takes him a few moments, and once you’re thoroughly clean - every trace of your mixed fluids soaked into the terry cloth fabric - he presses a soft kiss to the top of your mound. As his plump lips caress your oversentised clit, you moan, your hand autonomously moving to push his head away as your thighs clamp shut.

Laughing, “Sorry,” Taehyung apologises.

“It’s okay… Thank you,” you murmur, your nose wrinkling when the raw muscles of your oesophagus strain.

Seokjin places the empty glass on the bedside table, while Taehyung haphazardly throws the dirtied towel on the ground. Then, the two of them climb into bed beside you. Warmth of their bodies flanking either side of you, you snuggle further into the sheets, your eyes begin to droop from your exhaustion. Seokjin’s hand drops to your bare abdomen, and mindlessly, his fingers begin flitting over the soft flesh. At the same time, Taehyung nestles into your side, and face burying into the side swell of your breast, he gently nips the skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, ____,” they both murmur, Seokjin pressing a kiss to your temple, while Taehyung presses one to your breast.

Eyebrow furrowing, “It’s not Valentine’s Day. Not for another couple of days” you respond, causing them both to laugh lightly.

“It was supposed to be a spontaneous surprise,” Seokjin answers, and this time, you giggle.

“Was it as spontaneous and thrilling as you wanted it to be?” Taehyung questions, his lips twisting into a lop-sided smile against your skin.

“Mmmm. Definitely…” you sigh in response. Then, after a brief pause, “Although… I’m going to be fucking sore tomorrow,” you grumble. Once again, the two of them laugh.

“Well… you know the best remedy for that...” Taehyung begins, one of his hands teasingly wrapping around your thigh.

“Is to continue working through the soreness,” Seokjin finishes, his own hand moving to palm at your breast.

“Oh my god. You’re both insatiable,” you gripe, your hands batting their hands away from your body.

“Only for you,” Taehyung quips.

“Yeah, I’m already starving again,” Seokjin growls.

“I could go for another round of dessert,” Taehyung nods.

At their exchange, you simply shake your head. Sighing, “Later. I need a nap first.”

“Hmmm. We’ll hold you to that,” they reply, and as the twin sounds echo through the room, you sigh in exasperation. Valentine’s Day or not, you’re sure they’re going to run your body ragged before letting you out of the hotel suite.

DISCLAIMER ⏤ THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION. DO NOT TRY SOME OF THIS AT HOME. DO NOT POUR MELTED CHOCOLATE ONTO YOUR PUSSY OR ASSHOLE!!!!

a/n: anyway : ) i hope : ) you : ) busted : ) a : ) fat : ) nut : )

⇥ Masterlist | Like my work? Consider buying me a Kofi!

[sandbees]

Okay I was thinking about how the other charathers that Arent the great Seven would react to the NRC students in the house of mouse AU. Like i can Imagine Azul asking Ariel if She wants ti make a deal with him and Ariel Is like "lol no", or the First year see Cruella de vil at One of the tables and they are like "She look so much like Crewel that She's giving us PTSD" or kalim and Aladdin becoming buddies :D.

Well, let me put in some headcannons then:

Word goes around that some of the Great Disney villains come to visit Yuu and everyone gets jealous.

So now whenever Yuu goes to work they always get asked to have them visit their world.

So, Yuu just says, “Meh ok, you guys can visit me whenever just ask one of the Great Seven or go through the mirror in my dressing room-“

And suddenly Yuu gets someone they met from the House of Mouse ever other day. It’s literal chaos and Yuu doesn’t know if they should feel exasperated or flattered.

Anyways, here’s some interactions between the dorms and some Disney Characters:

Heartslybul: Obviously when Alice comes to visit, she comments on how Heartslybul reminds her of the Queen of Hearts’ garden. When Yuu mentions that they paint the roses red, Alice sarcastically asks, “Does the dorm leader behead people who don’t paint the roses?” “...Well, he’s more lenient now but...” “...You’re serious?”

Ace and Alice get along swimmingly, basically quick quips and a lot of teasing. Yuu regrets introducing them to each other because they know the two are going to get into some sort of trouble. Deuce also gets along with Alice, though he can get lost in Alice’s rambles in imagination.

I think Alice would get along with Trey and Cater. I mean, they both give big brother vibes (Trey more than Cater). Trey would give Alice some tarts and Alice is like, “....He’s cool.”

Cater is going to take a bunch of pictures, and Alice is very curious about the device he’s holding (I don’t think phones or the internet existed during Alice’s time so...). Cater ends up teaching Alice about the internet and phones.

Riddle...ohhh noo. Once Alice broke one of the 810 rules and Riddle lightly scolded her for it. Alice thinks most of the rules are ridiculous and while Riddle has toned down on being strict, he’ll quickly get annoyed with Alice questioning the rules. There’s rules for a reason! The dorm was founded on these rules!!

Savannaclaw: It’s Simba, obviously. He’s curious to see the dorm after his...nefarious uncle. It’s much more nicer than he expected, though he’s a little off put by the dorm’s...rowdiness.

But he’s impressed with the Magishift practices they have when Yuu showed them.

He likes Jack, right off the bat. Jack has this sense of justice that he can relate to. I think they would get along pretty well. Oh, and probably how strong and buff Jack is.

Simba is wary of Ruggie, due to him being a hyena beastmen. He has...bad memories of hyenas. His wariness is correct, since Ruggie has tried to swindle Simba and Yuu to do some of his work. Does the relationship get better? Only if Yuu makes them hang out with each other haha.

Leona reminds Simba of Scar...to a certain degree. Lazy, cunning, and has this look where it seems like he could be planning something nefarious...

Ok, maybe not that bad, but Simba is weary of Leona. He kind of expected a character similar to Scar since this is the dorm based on him but...still. It’s really odd. It’s kind of rocky, but if Cheka comes over to visit, well...it could get better.

I mean, Leona does find Cheka annoying and calls him a brat but...Simba can tell there’s no malicious desire towards Cheka, which raises Leona’s “evil people don’t interact” list. That doesn’t mean Leona’s in the clear, but he’s ok.

Octavinelle: Surprise, surprise, it’s Ariel! She comes over, human legs and all. (Don’t worry! She got them from the nicer sorcerers). She wanted to visit Yuu and see how great NRC was! They had fun, and then they went to Mostro Lounge.

Ariel is terrified of the Tweels. They give her this...off putting feeling and they’re very intimidating. She does not trust them at all. She does like how they get up close and how they speak as if she’s some poor soul waiting to be taken advantage over.

That’s also why she does not trust Azul at all. He reminds Ariel of Ursula - especially when he tries making a contract with her. Uh-uh, no way. Never again.

This leads to Ariel dubbing NRC a dangerous place for Yuu to stay at. Why doesn’t Yuu come live with her and her family back at her world? Surely it’s much more safer than here! Why, Melody already sees Yuu as a big sibling so why not just stay at the castle permanently?

Ursula fumes at the thought of her enemy trying to take Yuu away and become their parent. That’s her role, dammit!

Scarabia: Kalim invites Aladdin, actually. It’s the most funniest scenario. Yuu mentioned to Kalim about the street rat that wooed the princess and Kalim says, “:00 WE SHOULD INVITE HIM!!” Jamil sighs and facepalms.

It’s actually going great! Aladdin is kind of shocked at the big party that Kalim threw, but it was a great welcome. He’s shook that Kalim apparently trusted Aladdin enough to show him the treasury room. “It’s open for all of the dorm to use! I don’t need much of it!”

Wasn’t NRC rumored to be a villain’s school??? What is this ball of sunshine doing here???

Actually, the Scarabia duo are good in his eyes. Sure, a little rough around the edges with Kalim being a bit too naive and Jamil being more of a watching snake, but they’re better than what he expected. Aladdin gets along with them pretty well!

And then they go on a carpet ride when Kalim introduces Aladdin to his magic flying carpet.

Yuu and Jamil scream at the two of them to get down as they fly across the night sky.

Pomfiore: oh no. Oh no no no. Snow White visiting Pomfiore is like...Neige visiting.

Vil is cold to Snow White, and she knows why. She’s seen the images that Yuu had of this “Neige Leblanc”. He certainly reminds her of her younger days. Which is why she completely understands why Vil is so standoffish of her.

What she doesn’t expect is Rook singing her praises and also kind of...watching her. It’s low key creepy but Yuu says it’s normal and since he doesn’t mean any harm Snow White lets it slide. They do have a good conversation though. Snow White learns to understand Rook’s...eccentric hobbies.

Epel and Snow White go together like apples and oranges. They go pretty well together, but they have contrasting differences. They could be passed of as siblings with their cute looks, as much as Epel hates to admit it. Though I’d like to think they have this “Soft big sister with a gremlin of a little brother” dynamic. Or “Big sister that is harmless but has a badass little bother” dynamic. Just...a cool sibling dynamic, basically.

Ignihyde: Hercules comes by when he hears that a dorm was based off of Hades. He had to see what it was like. He expected the doom and gloom, but he didn’t expect all the technology.

He and Ortho go along swimmingly. I mean, he’s pretty chill around the more upbeat and cheery dorm member, at least. (Seriously, the others were such buzzkills). He also gets a good impression on Idia when Ortho affectionately talks about his big brother! Wow, so the kids here do have a heart! Unlike Hades-

Ok, so as much as Ortho talks so highly of Idia, Hercules does not see how Ortho does. I mean, Idia is a complete shut in and gloomy recluse! Why do you stick around him?! It isn’t until he speaks his mind about that comment does Ortho turn into a crazy murder machine. (“How DARE you speak of that about my brother!!”) Yuu has to save Hercules and the entire dorm before Ortho blows up the school.

So now Hercules sees how inseparable the two are and how much they care for each other, which yeah, that’s pretty cool. (Is also low key jealous, how come his half brothers weren’t like that?)

Diasomnia: Aurora visits with Maleficent. Both do not share ill will after their stories are completed. They actually do make amends. So Maleficent invited Aurora to see her grandson, and Aurora politely accepts.

They have tea with Malleus, and it is a very pleasant conversation. Aurora gets along well with Malleus, even suggesting maybe she should invite him and Maleficent to her kingdom one day. (Maybe when she gives birth to a beautiful baby. Maleficent liked that)

Lilia is also a fun one to be around! Aurora was so surprised by his scare that she had laughed. Ah, what a funny fae! Why, she hadn’t laughed this hard since...well, never. She likes Lilia and will come by if she needs a good laugh.

Poor Sebek though....he acts all uptight around Aurora because she’s a Queen and also aquatinted with Maleficent...he must be respectful to her at all costs! It takes a long time for Sebek to at least act a little casual around her. Maleficent says it’ll take some time, though Aurora isn’t sure if that time will come on her lifetime...but for the meantime, she is still happy to be around Sebek’s presence and have pleasant conversations with him.

Aurora and Silver...ok, let me say this: they got along during a sleepover. The Diasomnia gang + Maleficent and Aurora had a sleepover in the dorms to “better know each other”. I also think Aurora would feel sympathy for Silver if the conversation of him tending to fall asleep came up. Heavens knows she still has her sleepy spells even after her curse was broken.

Also- wofhenod I just imagine Aurora and Silver walking in the forest together and a bunch of animals surround them. (Yuu finds them and cries when they actually attracted a bunch of adorable puppies (or whatever animal you find cute). Cute, adorable animals that are so gentle with them that they start to cry due to stress from being at NRC (Silver and Aurora look at Yuu with concern and gently start comforting them)

Winfendien Suddenly I want a twin dynamic with Silver and Aurora. Even a sibling dynamic would be cool. Just two sleepy siblings that won’t hesitate to kick your ass.

[wanderinginksplot]

Riye (A Favor) - Alpha-17/f!Reader fic

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Third installment of my Alpha-17/fem!reader fic!

Word-Count: 3,100

Warnings: aggressive flirtation, Alpha is rude.

---

You carefully straightened the neckline of your shirt, eyes on the refresher mirror. It might be silly, but today marked a full month since you had come to Kamino, and you wanted to look your best.

Your outfit had survived the morning, despite a meeting with several Kaminoans who wanted updates on your progress. You had been able to deliver good news - that you were right on schedule - but a sense of doubt overshadowed any triumph you might have felt. The first deadline had been met, but the next one promised to step up the workload, and you were already feeling overwhelmed at the idea.

Still, you were determined to push the negativity out of your mind. You would figure out a better schedule to complete the work later. Today was a celebration.

The bad thing about taking more care with your appearance was that it attracted more attention than usual from the cadets. You had politely turned away two different groups of young men by the time Alpha was due to arrive in the cafeteria. Another cadet - alone, this time - was doing his best to keep from being dismissed as well.

"Was it raining when you came in, ma’am?" he asked, leaning over you. "I have flight drills after this and it gets even more dangerous in the rain."

You did your best not to smile at the obvious way he was hinting about being a pilot. "You know, I think it was raining the last time I was near a window," you told him, voice grave.

"Then I'm going to need some luck to survive," he said dramatically, flashing you a smile he clearly hoped would be charming. "I've heard a kiss from a beautiful woman is a good start. What do you think? It might help me survive the afternoon."

"I wouldn't count on it," a dark voice warned.

The cadet stood as straight as possible as Alpha approached. The captain brushed your new pilot friend aside with a twist of his armored shoulders and sat down. He proceeded to start eating, ignoring the cadet completely.

Any other cadet would have backed away, thankful that Alpha hadn't decided to throw them directly into the oceans of Kamino, but this one was more determined than most.

He winked at you from behind Alpha's head. "By the way, my name is-"

"She doesn't want to know your name," Alpha told him. "Get out of here before I decide that I want to know it."

"Very flattering, Captain," the cadet said cheekily. "But Jango's face isn't the one I want to wake up to, yeah?"

Alpha swallowed his mouthful of food and deliberately set his fork aside, standing slowly from the table. He drew up to his full height before turning around. He was taller than the cadet, forcing the younger man to look up.

"Now I'm extremely interested," Alpha said slowly, his slow and methodical voice dripping with menace. "What's your designation?"

Behind him, you winced. You hated how glaringly obvious it was that the Kaminoans considered these men products. Also, this cadet might die in front of you and that would almost certainly ruin your ability to eat in the cafeteria anymore.

"CT-7115," the cadet said with a grin.

"Ah, part of Zackra Trem's group." Alpha raised his comlink. "Trem."

"Alpha," a female voice returned immediately.

"I've got one of your pilot cadets here in the cafeteria. 7115."

"Broadside," Trem said, clearly recognizing the number. "He's one of my best, Alpha. Don't break him too badly."

"No promises," Alpha replied, turning slightly back toward Broadside. Since you were seated directly behind Alpha, you couldn't see his expression yourself, but it was enough to make Broadside's grin slip for the first time.

"I'll make you a deal," Trem offered. "I'll give him hell here and then send him back to you tonight. I'm sure he could help you demonstrate something unpleasant to your ARCs."

Alpha considered that for a long moment while Broadside shifted uncomfortably. Eventually, he conceded, "That works."

Trem laughed. "Do I even wanna know what he did to you?"

"Harassed an uninterested female."

The laughter emanating from the comlink's speakers cut off abruptly. "In that case, I think we should coordinate punishments. I'll be in touch, Captain."

The transmission cut off suddenly and Alpha looked at Broadside once more. "You had best get to your training, son."

Broadside, looking suddenly concerned, nodded and hurried away. “What was that?” you asked quietly when Alpha had sat down across from you once more.

“I told his superior officer about his behavior.”

“What more than that?” you pressed.

Alpha grinned suddenly, and it was half a snarl. “It just so happens that his superior officer is Zackra Trem. It’s not my story to tell, but she’s got more reason than most to hate that kind of osik behavior.”

You could very well guess the rest of that story. Your heart twisted for Trem, though you had never met her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nice, but she wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment,” Alpha told you, not unkindly. “Feel sorry for your little pilot. She’s a Weequay who ran with Mandalorians for the past few decades. Whatever she makes him do, it won’t be pleasant.”

You chuckled at that, trying not to actually feel sorry for Broadside. In the time you had been hanging around Alpha, most of the cadets had eased up a bit on flirting, but every now and then, someone crossed the line.

Alpha picked his fork up again and shot you an intense look. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Though your immediate instinct was to be embarrassed about being overdressed, even mildly, you rolled your eyes at him. “Anything looks like too much when everyone else wears uniforms all of the time. Remember that day I wore a necklace?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Alpha said, snorting. “A necklace. What are you, a Senator?”

“Your ideas of fancy clothing are extremely skewed, I hope you know that,” you told him, adjusting your collar again.

“Hazards of the job,” Alpha replied with a casual shrug as he returned his focus to his food. “Looks okay, though.”

You paused, staring openly at him. Had Alpha just complimented you? Surely not… The universe wouldn’t survive such unexpected behavior, not without signs that space was collapsing in on itself.

Alpha noticed you watching him and lifted an eyebrow in question while he chewed. You just shook your head and applied yourself to your own lunch, avoiding his curious eyes. Explaining your thought process there would be an intensive effort, especially if your goal was to keep him from being uncomfortable.

Fortunately, avoiding Alpha’s eyes let you notice the approaching cadet sooner than your companion did, and you had time to brace yourself before the young man - even younger than you were used to seeing - opened his mouth.

“Excuse me-”

“Kriff,” Alpha said loudly, dark brows crashing down over his eyes. “Go away, kid. I’ve already ruined one cadet’s day and I have no problem adding to the list. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“N-no, sir, of course not,” the cadet told him, nodding respectfully at you as he went on. “I wanted to talk to you. Is it true you served with General Kenobi?”

"What?" Alpha asked, sounding uncertain for the first time since you had met him. You quirked your brows, unsure of whether to be amused or concerned.

"General Kenobi," the cadet repeated. "And General Skywalker, too! I heard you went on a mission with both of them. What was it like?"

"Look, kid, I don't have time to answer all your questions about Jedi-"

"That's fine!" the cadet told him. "I already know everything there is to know about the Jedi. I want to know more about your experience, specifically."

The muscles in Alpha's jaw flexed and you quickly interrupted. "What's your name?"

"Dogma, ma'am," the cadet told you, making an apologetic face. "I know names are against regulations, but my batchers won't stop calling me that. My designation is CT-4287."

“Nice to meet you, Dogma,” you said politely.

Dogma's cheeks darkened and he gave a tight nod. "You too, ma'am."

"Stop flirting with the poor boy," Alpha chided and you gaped at the captain. So much for trying to help him.

"Dogma, I'm sure Captain Alpha would love to answer any question you have," you told the young cadet, grinning triumphantly at Alpha.

"Wait," Alpha ordered, catching at your wrist before you could stand up. His hand was ridiculously huge and you found yourself shackled by his gentle grip. "You haven't finished eating."

You grinned wider at him, slipping your wrist out from between his fingers. "I'll take it with me. Have fun, you two!"

Dogma gave a half-hearted wave while Alpha glared.

---

The rest of the afternoon was spent locked away in your office, working on the second major project you had to complete. Your concerns about the deadline were unfortunately proving correct. The icy grip of stress and fear were squeezing your heart, and you were honestly relieved when someone knocked on the door of your office.

“One moment!” you called to the unseen visitor, but they didn’t seem to hear you. Instead, they continued to pound on the door until you opened it. You were unsurprised to see Alpha on the other side, glowering down at you.

“You’re mean for a nat-born,” he grumbled, brushing you aside as he pushed into the office.

After letting the door slide closed once more, you followed him over to your desk and plopped down in your chair. Rather than sit in one of the chairs opposite you, Alpha leaned his hip against the side of your desk, much closer than you were comfortable with.

In a show of belligerence, you crossed your arms and lifted your chin as you replied, “Serves you right for being rude about my outfit.”

“I didn’t say anything bad about your clothes!” Alpha denied, befuddled.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t say anything nice about them, either,” you argued childishly, conveniently forgetting his half-compliment at lunch.

Alpha frowned. “You want me to… talk about clothing with you?”

Well. Put that way, it did sound a little silly. Of all of the things you were sure Alpha did well, deep discussions about fashion might be beyond him. Honestly, they might be beyond you, too. You sighed. “No, I don’t want you to talk about clothing with me, but I was trying to look nice today. I put a lot of effort into this.”

“I don’t understand why,” Alpha said. “You look… fine… every other day.”

“Fine,” you repeated dryly. “Thanks, I was going for fine.”

“I don’t understand what I did wrong.” You were able to hear the growing frustration in his voice. “What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe don’t act like I’m wearing a ballgown to work if I show up wearing a necklace!”

“What is a ballgown?”

You stared at Alpha, the simple question making your brain screech to a halt. It was like a chasm had opened between you, and it made you reconsider a few things. Since you had arrived on Kamino, you had treated the clone troopers as if they were people you might meet out in the galaxy, but that wasn’t exactly true. You still believed that they were people - of course you did - but you were only just coming to realize how different they were from anyone you had ever met. While the troopers shared their own experiences on Kamino and had been trained to be perfect soldiers by the time they shipped out, they were startlingly young by the standards of the rest of the galaxy.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” You fiddled with one of the many datapads littering your desk rather than meet Alpha’s intense gaze. “I am sorry for siccing Dogma on you, though.”

“You should be,” he growled. “He asked ten questions before I could shake him off. Ten!”

“Wow, that’s what? Five days worth of questions?” you teased.

“Five days for you,” Alpha told you seriously. “For anyone else, that’s more than I would ever answer.”

You were unreasonably touched by the reminder that Alpha let you learn things about him that no one else would ever know. Moved by a sudden surge of warmth for the ARC captain, you repeated your prior sentiment, but more fervently. “In that case, I honestly apologize for unleashing Dogma. If there’s anything I can do to make him back off, please let me know.”

Alpha’s stare was level and unwavering. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” you agreed immediately, not understanding what a wildly stupid idea that was. That was fine - you would learn… and it didn’t take long.

That night at dinner, Alpha came in and sat across from you, but instead of starting the meal in silence, he leaned across the table slightly to get your attention. Lowly, he asked, “Are you still willing to help me with Dogma?”

“Yes,” you agreed simply. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yeah. Flirt with me.”

You fought not to react visibly to that. Carefully keeping your face blank and your voice flat, you replied, “What.”

He leaned even closer, eyes lit with excitement. “I’ve been threatening and trying to alienate Dogma all day, but the only time he was uncomfortable was when you flirted with him.”

“I didn’t flirt with him!” you reminded him. “I just said it was nice to meet him.”

“Fine,” Alpha conceded. “We’ll just have to do better than that if we’re going to convince him to leave me alone.”

Abruptly feeling like this was the worst idea anyone had ever had, you tried to speak in your own defense. “Alpha, I don’t think this is a good idea-”

“You said you would help me,” he reminded firmly. “He’ll be here in a minute. I need your answer.”

Your heart was pounding, one of many warnings that this was a bad idea, but you nodded anyway. Alpha smiled - he actually smiled - and the expression looked menacing on his face. “Good.”

In a moment, he had circled the table to sit beside you, his huge frame making you feel ridiculously tiny in comparison. He wasn't wearing any armor at all now, and you could feel the heat of his skin through what little space there was between you.

You tried not to obviously tense as he spoke next to your ear. "There he is, get ready."

Impossibly, Alpha managed to get closer to you, tugging behind your knee slightly so that you were angled toward him. When he had finished posing you, Alpha’s large hand lifted to cradle your face. His fingers brushed over your cheekbone before trailing down to your jaw.

"My little neverd," he murmured to you, face filled with affection.

You didn't have to feign embarrassment at the warmth in his tone matched with the intense eye contact he was giving you. When you replied, you tried not to sound squeaky but only managed to sound shaky instead. "You know Mando'a is my weakness."

He laughed, a low chuckle that sent delicious chills running over your skin. “Why do you think I use it?”

“Alpha…” you chided, managing to sound mildly flirtatious.

“Come on, little one,” he urged you, voice velvet in a way you hadn’t known it could be. “Let’s go back to your- Ah, one moment, neverd. Dogma, sit down.”

You looked over to see Dogma standing at the other side of the table. You had never even noticed, your entire focus narrowed down to Alpha. Dogma looked as embarrassed as you felt. While you were focused on Dogma, Alpha’s arm snaked around you, pressing against your waist to pull you flush against his side. Your face flamed and Dogma glanced away.

“Sir, I- I’m sorry, I forgot I’m on duty tonight,” Dogma muttered, speaking so quickly it was difficult to understand him.

“Sorry to hear that, cadet,” Alpha replied gravely, flexing his fingers against your side. It made you push a little closer to him in reflex, the tip of your nose brushing the space under his jaw as you tried to look up at him. Alpha shivered, and you weren’t sure how much of the motion was acting. “Maybe later.”

Dogma gave an awkward nod and hurried off.

Alpha started laughing even before he let you go, his muscular chest shaking against your shoulder. After a moment that felt like it had stretched an hour, he pulled his arm back and slid away a bit. You immediately felt the loss of his closeness and suddenly you were horribly uncertain of what expression you were wearing. Just in case it said more than you wanted it to, you looked back at the entrance of the cafeteria.

“I feel bad,” you admitted.

"Don't," Alpha advised, looking toward the door as well. “He’ll be fine. He’s a good soldier, just a little…”

He trailed off, apparently content to let his thought stay incomplete. You glanced over to him with an eyebrow raised, but his eyes were fixed on the door. “You can see every access point in the room from here.”

“That is why I chose this spot,” you agreed.

“Switch with me tomorrow.”

“Not a chance,” you refused. “This is my spot.”

“Then I hope you like sitting next to me,” Alpha told you. Surprised, you laughed up at him and he met your eyes. “You know, I’ve never seen anyone blush on cue.”

“Hidden talent,” you explained vaguely. Alpha didn’t seem convinced, so you changed the subject. “What does neverd mean?”

“Civilian.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. “Civilian? That’s what you used as a term of endearment?”

Alpha blinked blankly at you. “What’s wrong with it? You are a civilian.”

“Yes, but,” you thought over it for a second, “-it’s not very romantic. Usually, people say things like ‘dear’ or ‘sweetheart’.”

“How should I have known that?” Alpha asked.

It was the ballgown situation all over again, and more than you were willing to tackle that day. “Well, some warning before you want me to go undercover would be helpful.”

Alpha snorted. “How much warning do you need?”

You pretended to consider that for a moment. “Two business days, minimum.”

He frowned fiercely. “If you get two full days of warning, I expect more. I need you to show up in a disguise with three different accents ready.”

“Harsh terms,” you told him with a smile. “With those negotiation skills, you’d make a great senator."

Alpha gave you the darkest scowl you had ever seen him muster. “Watch it, neverd.”

Idly, you wondered if Alpha would protect you from himself, but the amused glimmer in his dark eyes told you it would be unnecessary.

---

A/N - Pretty sure Broadside is wildly OOC, my bad. Also, sorry for the weird image for this chapter. I didn't really want the text bubbles in there, but I needed to keep Alpha's sassy hip lean.

Taglist - @imabeautifulbutterfly @cagrame @mysticalturtleenthusiast @marvel-starwars-nerd @lackofhonor

[cacoetheswriting]

library hours [reimagined] - spencer reid

warnings: age gap, professor / student, maybe a swear word or two, a lil tension, but mainly a fluffy first interaction word count: 1.7k summary: a late night at the university library leads to reader meeting a certain handsome professor.

a/n: this is a reimagined / rewritten version of this fic. for those interested, the original centres around baby!spencer. both fics start off pretty much the same, what differs is the interaction between spencer and reader.

-

There was something you always enjoyed about the going to the library.

Perhaps it was the way every single person that walked through the threshold had a purpose. A mission to complete. Perhaps it was the quiet. The solace you felt sitting alone in a corner researching various topics, for class and for recreational purposes.

The university library had quickly become your second home. A location you frequented more than your own dorm room. It wasn’t always to study, no. You people watched. Doodled. Even napped there from time to time. The place brought you peace, and by the time you senior year rolled around, you saw the librarians more than your college friends.

The university library was also the place where you first met a certain handsome professor, doctor - which in time became the main reason why you liked it so much.

Lights were slowly being turned off section by section. A vacuum came to life in one of the aisles. People started to scramble from their seats - shoving their things into their backpacks, throwing out empty coffee cups into the overflowing bins, checking out books they might still use that evening.

All signs indicating it was time to go.

Dolly, one of the librarians, ushered towards you. Her jacket draped over her shoulders, her bag in hand. She gave you the usual spiel of how you can stay until the janitor is finished cleaning, to which you politely nodded along. She wished you a pleasant night, and with a “see you tomorrow” she hurried out the door.

Once she was out of sight, you groaned under your breath and ran your fingers through your hair. You had an assignment due tomorrow, one you started hours ago and only managed to formulate three total sentences. Your gut was telling you there was no way you were going to finish now, especially since you had about thirty minutes until you would have to leave.

Leaning back in your chair, you fluttered your eyes closed in an attempt to collect your thoughts. The tranquil feeling didn’t last long however, as you were abruptly brought back to reality by someone loudly clearing their throat. You immediately sat back up and quickly scanned the space for the source of the interruption.

A tall brunette man stood a few tables away, his hands slowly sliding into the pockets of his pants. He was definitely older, by how much you couldn't quite tell. But, you definitely took notice of how handsome he was.

“The library is closed for the night.” He stated, the tone of his voice calm yet stern.

“I have permission to be here.” You retorted with as much confidence as you could muster, but the mysterious man didn't seem impressed with your answer. With an arched brow, he took a firm step in your direction.

“From who?” He challenged, as if he was waiting to catch you in a lie.

You folded your arms across your chest, unwilling to give in to whatever game he was playing. “Dolly, the librarian. I could call her if you don't believe me?”

The brunette didn’t respond. Instead, his lips twirled slightly upwards into a sly smirk and with the way he was now looking at you, you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You only hoped he didn't see the faint pink blush now present on your facial features.

“May I?” The man asked after a brief moment of silence, pointing to to the chair beside yours. You found yourself nodding, before quickly turning your attention away from him, and back to the book in front of you.

While he made himself comfortable, his leg brushed against yours. The sudden close contact sent a jolt down your spine and you shivered. A small act he definitely noticed.

“You’re not some sort of killer, are you? You’re not here to murder me?” You asked, tilting your head to once again look at the man. Shaking his head, he let out a wholehearted chuckle.

“No, I’m definitely not a murder.” He reassured.

“Definitely? That's over selling it, don't you think? It’s exactly the kind of thing a murder would say.” You teased in response, gaining a little bit of your courage back. He didn't reply. The smirk on his face widened just a little and he eyed you silently, as if you were a treasure map he was desperate to solve.

The two of you stared at one another for what felt like eternity. There was something amicable about the seconds that passed as you looked into his hazel eyes. Something harmonious. Friendly. Strong.

When you finally broke contact and proceeded to return to working on your assignment, you could still feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. In any other situation, with any other stranger, the feeling would have made you uncomfortable. Scared even. But there was something quite thrilling about the mysterious brunette sitting beside you.

“I’m a profiler.” He said after another moment of comfortable silence. “I work for the FBI as part of their Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He added as you glanced up at him from your notes, intrigue gracing your facial features. The statement was to make you feel safer in his presence - not that it was needed since you already felt strangely guarded around him.

You smiled, dropping your pen and shifting in your chair to face him completely. “So, agent, what are you doing at a university library on a Thursday night? Did the bad guys take a break?”

“Doctor.” He calmly corrected.

“What?”

“It’s doctor, not agent.” He said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.”

The smug look on his face earned him a playful eye roll. “You don’t happen to have a PhD in History under your belt, do you, doctor? Because that would be very helpful right about now.”

“No, but I do have an eidetic memory and can read twenty-thousand words per minute.” He declared and you gaped at him in disbelief, mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.

Great, you thought, as if he wasn't intimidating enough.

“You could have just said you were a superhero.” You joked before leaning in towards him ever so slightly. The faint whiff of his cologne caught you off a little off guard, and you took a mental note to never again settle for someone that only used body spray. “Don’t worry, I’m really good with secrets. I won’t tell anyone.” You whispered and gently pressed your index finger to your lips.

The comment caused the handsome doctor to throw his head back in a whole-hearted laugh. He placed a hand on his stomach as you slowly shifted back to your previous position, chewing down on the inside of your cheek down to stop yourself from commenting on how good he looked.

“Am I going to get an answer to my previous question?” You asked once the laughter died down, your assignment long forgotten.

“I teach here.”

The statement earned him another eye roll. “Seriously? Is there anything you don't or can't do?”

It was his turn to lean in. He rested his elbows on his knees and intertwined his fingers together, his hazel eyes never leaving yours. The air hitched in your lungs at his proximity. You felt as if every single cell in your body was shaking.

“Well, us superheroes, we like to stay busy.” He whispered, his cool minty breath hitting you in the process, sending a shiver down your spine.

You cleared your throat, a timid smile appearing on your face. “There uhm, there’s this diner not far from here. It’s twenty-four hours meaning they won’t kick us out. Would you like to come with me? We can have coffee?”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved back in his seat and ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. You bit down on your bottom lip, wondering what was going through his mind. Wondering if perhaps you had overstepped some sort of boundary since he was a professor and you were a student.

But, it was just coffee. Nothing more. That wasn't so bad... Right?

“Coffee sounds nice.” He responded with a smile, after what felt like forever.

Outside, there wasn’t a cloud in the night sky making the million stars shine all that brighter. They looked like perfect sugar granules spilled on a dark surface, accompanied by the glowing moonlight.

The breathtaking sight was accompanied by street lamps. They illuminated the path while you walked side by side, almost in sync. Shoulders faintly brushing against one another.

“How long have you been a profiler?” You asked, looking ahead. The wind blew lightly through your hair causing your brunette companion to turn his head and observe you quietly. A smile crept up on his lips.

“I joined when I was twenty-two.” He answered. You glanced up at him for a brief moment - that wasn't much younger than you now. The look in his eyes suggested he knew that’s what you were thinking.

“Do you like it? Or do you prefer teaching?”

He licked his lips, thinking. As he furrowed his brows together, you noticed the unobtrusive age lines defining his handsome features. Each individual crease telling a different story, and you found yourself hoping you would one day be lucky enough to hear them.

“Every job has its pros and cons.” The brunette man stated eventually, lightly shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn't help but let out a soft giggle at his answer. “Okay professor, now you just sound conventional.”

He chuckled, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his pants. “I’ve been called many things in my life, miss. Conventional was never one of them.”

“It’s Y/N. My name, uhm, my name is Y/N.”

You both stopped once you introduced yourself, simultaneously turning in your spots, so that you were facing each other completely.

“Y/N...” He tested your name on his tongue, and a smile embellished your features because for some reason it sounded incredibly striking coming out of his lips.

“It suits you.” He retorted and the blood rushed to your face. Now, he definitely noticed the blush, you thought. He didn’t comment on it however. Instead, he proceeded to introduce himself, “My name is Spencer. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @willowrose99

[glowingbadger]

The Sylvain and Dimitri arranged marriage stuff made me think of a claude version of it. Maybe an AU where Claude never came to fodlan and reader has to marry the prince/king of Almyra to improve countries relationships. Anyway seriously love your stuff thank you so much for the content!!

Oh hoo Anon, this is a wonderful take on the concept. Let's see what I can whip up for us~

((side note I feel like we never learn whether Almyra speaks a different language from Fodlan?? But being multi-lingual is sexy so idgaf))

((And also I used Bengali for Almyran because I have Bengali family and the language is so beautiful even though the english alphabet phonetic spellings are weird af))

Claude x Reader - Arranged Marriage

NSFW 18+ (like only towards the end tho idk)

Overall, you do what you can to stay out of the way. You'd been sent to Almyra as a symbol- a token, more than anything else. Now that you were in King Khalid's possession, very few throughout the castle paid you any particular mind. You were provided for, of course. Anything you cared to ask for was given. But you didn't speak a word of the Almyran language, and those who bothered to use what they knew of Fodlan's to communicate with you seemed to view you as a pet to be kept safe and healthy, and little else.

By week's end, there was to be a lavish banquet in honor of your union with the King- though of course, your input on the proceedings is entirely unwanted. In some ways, Almyra is quite similar to Fodlan. Court life is much the same. As you wander through the royal gardens, wondering at a range of colorful and exotic flowers you'd never heard of, let alone seen, a voice speaks smoothly behind you.

"Did you know you can actually eat the petals of this particular flower? They're very sweet."

You whirl around and nearly bump into King Khalid. You're about to stammer out an apology, but he reaches out and plucks a single white petal and holds it before your lips.

"Go on, I think you'll like it."

Whatever possesses you to eat a flower petal from this man's hand is something you'd rather leave unexamined for the time being- but he is right about the flavor. It's sweet, but not overly so, and quite pleasant.

"Hm! Yeah, it's nice," you say, then glance up at him as another thought occurs to you that you'd considered once or twice before, "You speak the language of Fodlan very well, my Lord."

"I'm flattered," he says with a disarmingly handsome smile, "and please, just Khalid. I don't think I could bear to have my own wife stand on such formality with me."

He says it so naturally, as if you'd been planning this union for years. Though, once again, he's right. This is only perhaps the dozenth time you've exchanged words, but you are wed, and you ought to get used to addressing him as your husband.

"Khalid..." you say tentatively, "Did- did you need something from me? I hope I wasn't too much trouble to find."

"Not when you find such pleasant places to hide," he replies, still wearing that easy smile, "but to be honest, I was actually hoping you'd accompany me for the day. I can finally afford to take a bit of time away from the castle, and I think you and I both would appreciate some space to breathe. What do you say?"

Correct once again. You nod, and take the arm he offers you. As he leads you out from the gardens, he points out a few more plants native to your new homeland. They're incredibly varied, each more strange and vibrant than the last. All the while, he's somehow made you feel as though you're chatting with an old friend. You leave the gardens and wander towards the area you vaguely recall to be designated for horse stables and wyvern stalls.

From there, a few things happen in sequence. Khalid asks if you're afraid of flying. He asks if you trust him to hold on to you. He helps you up onto the saddle that seems impossibly high up on its own right, and then, you're propelled into the air with a force your body has never felt before. You tense and shrink back against his chest, clinging to whatever part of the saddle you can find purchase on for dear life. Up here, it's difficult to pick up, but you feel your husband laugh behind you, then his strong arm wrap around your waist.

"Relax, I won't let anything happen to you," he says against your ear, his voice sure and steady, "I've got you."

And it takes a few miles of flying and a lot of Khalid distracting you by pointing out different buildings and shops along the streets below, but eventually, you do manage to relax- at least a little.

The castle town is positively buzzing with activity. Even from your distance in the sky above, you can see clusters of people moving around each other like fish up stream, and even hear the faint echoes of a merchant advertising goods.

"It doesn't seem at all like the Almyra we're taught about in Fodlan."

"Oh, it is," Khalid assures you with a bemused chuckle, "But it's also much more. I imagine it's the same for your people. There's a lot we can learn from one another, I think."

By the time the sun is high in the sky, you've passed the most densely settled part of town and are gliding over farmland and the occasional pocket of forest and rivers that split and cross through the earth like veins. Though, the warmer climate of Almyra will still take some getting used to, and it seems your husband considers this.

"Let's land for a bit and find some shade,"

You nod, and he directs his wyvern to begin a slow descent.

The King had thought of everything for this little day-trip, it seemed. Having evidently packed everything you'd need in the saddlebags on his steed, you now recline beside him on a plush blanket in a clearing amidst the trees. A small brook bubbles down from stone to stone in small waterfalls beside you, and the air feels positively alive with birdsong and rustling leaves, all foreign to you and all part of your new home. And so is he, you think as you glance over at the handsome figure of your husband beside you.

You'd been sitting in a comfortable quiet, munching on a couple of very dense pastries which Khalid had told you incorporated an extract of the flower you'd sampled earlier. He gives a satisfied sigh as he finishes his first and lies back on the blanket, taking in and savoring a deep breath. As you finish the last bites of your own treat, you reflect on the day thus far. You'd learned much about the locals and their daily lives by observation and Khalid's description in such a short time, and he'd even taught you a hand full of basic words and phrases in Almyran.

"Uhm, Khalid?"

He opens one eye and gives you a sideways glance.

"It was... dhonnobad, right? Thank you?"

His smile his open and warm, his eyes practically shimmering in the reflected sunlight from the nearby brook.

"Well, we'll have to work on your pronunciation, but I'm impressed you remembered," he beckons you down onto the blanket beside him, and you follow, lying on your side as he turns towards you. You're closer than you'd anticipated, even given the limited realestate of the blanket, and you internally scold yourself for being shy about something so silly- like some naive adolescent.

"Let's try a couple more words, since you've been such a diligent student."

"Okay," you say with a smile, "try me, I'll do my best."

"Hmm..." he looks around your private clearing, then gestures towards the brook and says, "Jala"

"Jala," you repeat slowly. He nods,

"Right- that's 'water'. And, uhm..." he points toward a patch of wildflowers at the edge of the brook, "Phula. That's 'flower'."

Again, you repeat as best you can, and though you know your pronunciation must be off, he's encouraging nonetheless. Then, he leans in towards you, and brings his free hand to your cheek, his fingertips brushing your skin lightly.

"Now try sundara."

"... Sundara?" you make an attempt, and you're sure you got something about that 's' sound mixed up, but Khalid just gives you a slanted smile. He doesn't clarify at first, so you ask, "What does that one mean?"

His fingers slowly weave back into your hair, and his voice is low and soothing as he replies,

"That means 'beautiful'."

Your face warms immediately, but you hardly have a moment to feel bashful about it before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you slow and deep. His movements are effortlessly sensual, pulling you towards him and sending your pulse pounding through your veins. You part your lips to him almost instinctively, and the way he uses his tongue is sparing, but oh-so effective. When he finally pulls away, your head is spinning and it's all you can do to meet his gaze.

"So... that's how they kiss in Almyra." you say, barely above a whisper. Khalid smirks and turns you onto your back, sliding an arm around your waist.

"Oh, no- there's no tradition in this, only skill."

Goddess- if they'd warned you of the King's supernatural charms, you wouldn't have believed them. But now his lips are on yours once again, and he's holding your body to his, and you can't think of anything else. Your arms drape across his shoulders, and faster than you can track, your bodies have met in a tangled, impassioned embrace. It was hard to imagine that mere kissing could feel so erotic, but something about his pace, about how his lips and hands move in tandem, about how thorough he is in exploring you, makes you feel like it would be only natural to give yourself over to him completely.

His kiss travels along your jawline up to the shell of your ear, where he nips briefly, then murmurs,

"I was hoping to apologize for how little time we've had to get to know each other before today," you bite at your bottom lip as his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, "if that would be pleasing to you, my dearest wife."

"Ye- yes..." you sigh into the open air as his lips reach your neck. The single word is all either of you need. He never stops pressing lavish kisses to your lips and neck as he pulls your clothing out of his way. By the time he's satisfied, your clothes are draped off your arms and pooling around you on the blanket- and he doesn't seem to care to remove them entirely. He has a goal in mind.

Slowly, painstakingly, he makes his way down your body. You feel him everywhere- hands tracing and memorizing your frame, breath hot across your skin as his lips spoil you with adoring kisses. Soon enough, he's kissed his way to your lower stomach, and he urges your thighs apart beneath him. You suppress the instinctive wave of embarrassment at being exposed to him for the first time- he is your husband and your King, afterall- but then, his head dips down towards your plump lower lips, and your mind goes white.

"Khalid-!" you gasp out as his tongue trails coyly up the crease of your folds. He hums contentedly, and places a disarmingly chaste kiss to the soft skin. Then, his thumbs gently spread you open for him, and your entire body burns while he takes a moment to merely admire you- your pretty little hole already wet, your clit already hard and flushed dark. When his head lowers once more, his green eyes meet yours steadily, as though to promise without words to be good to you.

And in a moment, his mouth begins to gently tease your clit, and your head tilts back on the blanket. Your hips jerk just a bit with each pass of his tongue across the sensitive bundle, and occasionally you can't hold in a gasp or whimper of pleasure. This only encourages him, of course. The more you moan and sigh, the more dedicated he becomes to your body. He presses himself more firmly to you, his lips surrounding your clit and the surrounding tender flesh, and he suckles on you, licks you, kisses you. You don't know when it happened, but your hands are at the back of his head, fists tangled in thick brown hair as he diligently works.

The unbearable tension is winding tight and anxious in your lower body- you know he'll drive you to climax before long, and the mere thought feels like falling in love. And then Khalid moves lower, and his tongue dips inside of your entrance. You gasp and unwittingly tug on his hair- but he certainly doesn't seem to mind. With a lustful groan, he presses more firmly to you, truly buried against your body as his dexterous tongue curls upward, stroking the vulnerable spot behind the nerves of your clit.

"Khalid!" this time it's nearly a scream, and you're grateful that your voice is lost in the surrounding foliage. Your thighs begin to shake, and your hands release him to instead clutch the blanket behind you. And at last, with a whimper in a voice you hardly recognize, your lower body floods with soaked warmth as your orgasm sweeps through you. Panting, twitching, you moan out for your husband over and over, until finally, the wave begins to subside, and Khalid pulls away to position himself above you on all fours.

"That's a nice expression..." he says with a grin, directing you to look at him with a hand at your chin, "I hope I'll get to see it often."

When your eyes finally refocus, you look up at him somewhat apologetically,

"I should... attend to you."

He laughs and kisses your forehead,

"There will be time for that tonight, don't you think? Once we're a bit more... put together," he says with a glance at your bare form, "we should head back to our ride. I'll bring you back to the castle, and we'll get the cooks to prepare something very 'Almyran' for you."

You nod- it probably wouldn't do for the first time with your Lord Husband to be mid-day in the woods. Though he'd certainly failed to make it seem unappealing.

"And then," he goes on, bringing a finger to trace the curve of your bottom lip, "Well, maybe we'll excuse ourselves to our bedchamber a bit early this evening, and we can continue this little... cultural exchange."

[thefact0rygirl]

ROUGH BOY, SWEET WORDS | Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: praise kink, affirmation play (is that a thing?), tied up/restrained hands, mention of face sitting, grinding, teasing, penetrative sex (p in v), cowgirl, creampie, alluding to a breeding kink, cockwarming, soft!din

Summary: Din just wants to be held and whispered words of affirmation. He just doesn’t know it. 

{masterlist} {cross-posted on ao3}

Din Djarin has no qualms praising you and showering you with affection, but struggles when you return that same affection. 

And "struggles” is putting it lightly. 

He is a Mandalorian, a warrior. Being treated like porcelain is the exact opposite of what has been ingrained into him. 

Din is also your partner, your riduur. It has taken him so long to become comfortable with the idea that someone as morally grey as him could be likened to a rare stone in another person’s eyes. Over time, he has let down his walls to bathe in your warmth and affection, but there are still moments when he shies away from it. 

Like now. 

Since reuniting Grogu with the Jedi, Din has grown wary of your compassion and sincerity. It feels alienating to him, like it’s wrong for him to accept love when your little clan is torn apart. With your ad’ika gone and your lives in shambles, Din slowly returns to the one stability he knows all too well: roughness. 

Rough bounties, rough words, rough hands.

Reuniting with his old persona as the big, bad bounty hunter, he finds shallow solace in insults and the camouflage his beskar provides. It’s what he knows best. 

Even sex is rough with Din manhandling you in place as he fucks his frustrations out onto you. Not that you don’t enjoy it, oh no. Not at all. Rough Din hits different, but you're worried about him. He is in a state of perpetual tension, shying away whenever you go for something gentler. It’s hard to miss the way he stiffens whenever you try to adore him with genuine flattery. 

It’s then in a rented room on Nevarro that you decide to try something different to make him feel your love. You know he is expecting something kinky when you use your old blindfold to tie his hands to the bedpost. You don’t confirm or deny his assumptions either, opting instead to straddle his head between your thighs, riding his face until he is drenched in your release.

Sliding down his body, you hover over his hips until your pussy is inches away from his throbbing cock. You coo his name like it’s a melody until he looks at you. The room is dim, save for a small lamp in the corner, but to Din, you look like the sun itself, sweat shimmering off your body like the finest silk.

With a coy smile, you ignite his world when you lower your hips until his cock is nestled against your heat. He gasps when he feels your pussy pulsing against his shaft, desire ripping through his veins as his nerves crackle in pleasure. 

Din’s hands twitch against the restraining cloth that keeps him mounted to the bedpost. He could easily break through the flimsy material, you both know that. All it takes is a flick of his wrists for the fabric to tear before he does the same to you. 

But he doesn’t. 

He stays put, watching as you gyrate against him.

The restraints were figurative, anyway, something you wanted to try and he was more than happy to oblige if it meant seeing you in such a salacious position. So luxurious, so spoiled with your head thrown back as you use his body for your pleasure. 

Tugging on your nipples, you pant out, “Stars, I love your cock.”

You start small with your praise, a simple comment he’s heard countless of times before. Something to add that extra spark to your rocking hips, but not enough to scare him. 

You don’t expect him to respond, and your guess is correct. Din groans in response, letting the comment roll off of him without a second thought. Your mouth is open in an ‘o’ and all he can imagine is shoving his cock down your throat. 

“Yeah? My pretty baby wants her pussy stuffed?”

A low gasp escapes you when Din’s thighs twitch under you, the sudden movement causing the head of his cock to catch against your clit.

Biting your lip, you nod, “I love your body. You’re so big, so strong.”

Now that gets a reaction out of him. His brain stutters for a moment as every part of him pauses. His body stiffens under you, but doesn���t reply.

Din tries to reason with himself as each drag of your hips propels him farther in arousal. You don’t know what you’re saying. He doesn’t even know if you really did say…that. Your pussy is throbbing so hard against him he wonders if this is actually a wet dream. Probably best to just avoid it all together.

Yeah, just don’t say anything. 

But then you lower yourself until your hard nipples are pressing into his scarred chest. Nuzzling your face over his heart, words continue to spill from your mouth, “I love your scars. I know you hate them, but I adore them. They mean you fought and survived.”

Without his helmet, Din is an open book. You see it when he averts his eyes to the ceiling, his tan skin flushing to a rosy brown. You could practically hear his mind puttering, the gears working overtime, to rationalize your words as if they were some riddle. 

Because why else would his riduur see anything but adoration and love for him? Right?

Before he can fall further into his unease, your finger tips rub light circles around his nipples as you pucker your lips to assemble a line of kisses. Starting at his sternum you kiss up his neck, over his Adam’s apple, and stopping to lick up your cum that soaks his chin. 

Din wilts from your touch. Your skin is so soft, your kisses so delicate, he whimpers as he feel your hands move to cradle his head. He just wants to feel you, run his rough hands against your silk skin, revel in your softness and forget about the nonsense spewing from your mouth. The bedpost squeaks as he tugs against the cloth.

Feeling your thumb resting at the corner of his mouth, he turns until he places a kiss against the finger pad, as if trying to push away his uneasiness. 

Feeling your breath on the shell of his ear, you confess quietly, “You’re so much stronger than you think and you amaze me, Din.” 

Embarrassment and confusion blend together until they form a strangled protest in his chest, working its way up his throat. He should be the one praising you, not you praising him.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, pushing his face into your hand in an attempt to hide the blooming red tint on his cheeks. 

“Doing what?” Your hips continue to rock in a steady pace.

“The compliments.” He voice grits out like it’s dragging across sandpaper. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

He lets out a breath, “I…” He stops, not answering the question.

Din shies away from the praise instinctively, having trouble reconciling his self-esteem with the way the remarks make his cock twitch. He feels warm and tingly, draped under a pleasant haze of affection, but a voice in the back of his head is telling him he doesn’t deserve it.

But he wants to. He wants to so fucking bad. After everything that has happened, he wants to feel okay. He wants to hear words of affirmation from one of the only beings in this forsaken galaxy that matters. 

You.

He wants to hear your voice, even if he isn’t ready to admit it. So, he shuts his eyes, his hips involuntarily twitching as you continue to grind against him. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Weaving your hands in his hair, you tug on the curly brown mess at the nape of his neck. You bury your nose against his neck, inhaling his comforting blend of musk, soap, and metal. 

“I love your smell.”

Your tongue drags along the protruding vein on his neck, following it down to the dip between his neck and shoulder. 

“And the way you taste.”

Din calls out your name in an attempt to fight off the warmth of your words, but his throat betrays him, constricting to keep his protests down. 

“And, stars, the sounds you make,” You moan, sucking tiny bruises into his flesh. “Those little whines when you come. I think about those when you’re gone.”

You lift your head so your lips ghost over his. You’re so close and your words are making his stomach churn as blood rushes to his weeping member. 

There’s something in the way you keep grinding against him paired with your sweet words that reminds him of his better self. The one that traveled all across the galaxy, risked his life, all to reunite a little, green boy with his people. He wants to drink your words like a strong wine and enjoy feeling of intoxication.

He lifts his head up to attempt to kiss you, but you sit you up before he can. With your hands letting go of his hair, Din trashes his head to the side at the miss. You don’t miss the way his tenses in anticipation.

“Cyare,” He insists, rosy cheeks turning bright red. 

“My strong and beautiful riduur.”

“Okay, stop.” Din pants, arms pushing forward to break free. 

You don’t miss the sound of breaking threads and you shove his chest with enough force to push him back into the mattress. 

“No,” You growl, eyes narrowing at him.

Eyes widening in disbelief, he chokes out, “Fucking tease.”

“I just can’t enough of you.” You move your arms behind you, hands holding onto his thick thighs as you arch your back and rut faster against him. 

“But you know what’s my favorite?” 

You don’t wait for an answer, you weren’t expecting one. You just keep rocking against him, coating him in your wetness until he’s soaked, your juices dripping down to his balls.

“When you cum inside me. I love it when you drip from me. Stars — feeling your seed filling me, I feel so close to you.”

“Stop,” Hr grunts your name. “Just, f-fuck—S-stop. Before I cum.”

Din hisses for the split second that cool air hits his cock before it’s enveloped again in warmth. Smirking down at him, you hold him tightly in your hand as you lower yourself down, wincing at the familiar stretch as he fills you.

Finally feeling your pulsing cunt consume him, Din lets out a surprise grunt, his hips jumping up, and you have to give him a second to get under control.

“Fuck, cyare,” He whispers, struggling not to melt back into the bed as you grip him like a silk glove, your inner muscles flexing around his intruding length.

Not wasting a second, you start swaying immediately. You’re both too desperate to go slow anymore, you’ve been at this for ages now. Din leans his head back, tilting his chin to take in the breathtaking sight of you, blissed out and lost in the growing pleasure between your legs. Your body rolls with your movements as you bounce on his cock, your breasts jiggling from the force of your hips. Din can’t help but moan at the thought that his tattered body could bring you so much bliss. 

Din is close to his own release, his orgasm carrying him along the edge of climax. And then you start up again with saccharine words. 

“Feel how wet I am, Din?”  

“That’s all you, riduur. Only you can do that.”

Cracking your eyes open, you look down to see Din’s skin colored red in embarrassment. He can only nod, eyes screwing shut as he tries to gain control of himself. He is so close after being teased for so long. He jerks his hips upward, impatient. 

You want to whisper more praise at him. You don’t want to stop until he feels your love, but for now you stop. Din is still hiding, breathing heavily as his hips move in involuntary motions, hard cock throbbing desperately inside of you. 

Leaning down to nip at his ear, you listen to his breath shake, as you bounce on his lap. His cock is easily sliding in and out of you from how wet you are. You’re soaked. 

“Din,” You call, kissing the side of his mouth. “D—Din. Look at me.”

He groans, but follows your request. His pupils are blown out from need and a haze of conflict clouds his brown irises. For all the teasing and mixed emotions your words bring him, he craves them. 

He craves you. 

Your loving eyes, your soft whispers, the purple patches you paint on his neck — they’re the things that show him he is in your thoughts. He watches your eyes as you look at him like he has the stars in his hands. You are just as consumed in him as he is of you. If he captivates you, then he will happily be your captive.

In that moment, all he wants is to touch you. Add a physical stability to your words. He wants to roll between the vowels, let the words sear into his skin like another one of his scars.

“What is it, Din?”

He shudders, pushing his chest up against yours, desperate for the skin to skin contact. “I—I want…Keep talking, but just let me — L-Let me touch you.”

Nodding, you move to the bedpost, but Din is faster. He pushes forward, tearing your old blindfold to shreds while pushing his upper half up until he is sitting up. His hands hold your back to steady you from the sudden movement and to keep you still impaled on his cock. 

With you cradled in his arms, his lips crash down to yours. It’s messy, but steeped in a passion that ignites the purest and most vulnerable versions of yourselves. It’s between your moving tongues that there is a promise of realness that Din embraces, allowing your affirmations to crack his defenses. 

Pulling away, he sees love in your eyes, and when you speak, he welcomes the burning on his cheeks, rolling around in honeyed words. 

“I love you. You’re so strong, so beautiful.”

You sit up straighter, bouncing in Din’s lap. You dig your heels into the bedspread to gain momentum, but you had been at this for an hour, riding his thigh, tying him up, and your movements get jerky and unsteady as the sensation grows more pleasurable. 

“I love you, too,” Din gasps, dropping his head until he is hunched into you. You’re wrapped around him, his protective cocoon, as his breath tattoos Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum into your skin. 

“D—Din! Oh, stars,” You babble into his hair. “So close…”

He growls at the announcement, pulling away from you as he propels himself forward to push you into the bed. You’re now under him, your legs instinctively locked around his waist. 

You’re right where he wants you. You’ve had your fun, now it’s his turn. Holding himself up, he slams back inside your tight pussy.

You cry out, your body seizing and shaking and you struggle to keep your eyes open so you can watch Din’s reaction.

His lips are bruised and red, hanging open on sounds of pleasures and ragged inhales. His eyelashes fan out over his flushed cheeks and his hair is slick and mussed on the top of his head.

“F—Fuck, how did I deserve this?” Din cracks, watching you trapped under him. He’s driving his hips against yours, your body thrusting up from the force of his snapping hips. He may be the one on top, but you are in control. With your little whines and adoring eyes, you’re squeezing his heart and setting his lungs is on fire. 

Chanting his name like a prayer, he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he loses control. There is no rhythm and rhyme to it, he just fucks you deeper and harder. It’s too easy for him to lose himself to you, in you. 

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes screwing shut as he feels his length enter you, going deeper with each thrust. 

“You’re lovely. Love you so much,” You tell him and Din sobs, clutching at you tighter to him.

“Riduur, my riduur.”

Your heart skips. Not from his words, but the way his voice shakes with the first vowel before entirely shattering my the end. It’s the little whines that escape him as he fucks you harder into the mattress, his need for you spilling into something so powerful he can’t help but moan. 

As Din’s movements become more frantic, you lodge a hand between your bodies and find your clit, rubbing sloppy circles until you moan. The growing arousal ignites your core, ripping through your body as your walls clench around him. Your muscles shake as the wetness between your legs pools, splashing against Din’s groin as you ride out your peak. 

“G-good girl, milk my cock,” Din whispers, chasing his own release. 

His own orgasm takes him by surprise. He can feeling it building, but he doesn’t expect it when his balls draw up and his cock throbs, hot liquid spilling inside of you.

It’s intense — more intense than it has any right to be.

Moaning, he paints your walls white. He continues thrusting through his orgasm, a meager attempt to push his seed deeper inside of you. Maybe even deep enough to reach your womb…

You move against each other, involuntary, shallow shivers as your orgasms drag out, pulling pleasure from ever nerve inside of you. 

“You’re beautiful.” You say, swallowing precarious gulps of air. 

You drop your legs from his waist, releasing at least part of him from your hold. But he doesn’t move, staying lodged between you as he softens. 

Din lets out a dry chuckle, “You’re going to have to wait for round two.”

“I mean it, Din,” You say so much conviction, he is unsure of what to say.

He leans towards you, pressing his lips against yours in soft kiss. You smile gently at the connection and lay back, pulling Din to follow you as he remains inside of you. He lays his head against your chest, letting your erratic heartbeat lull him in a peaceful state.

He whispers, “I know.”

mando’a translations

Riduur - spouse, partner, husband, wife

Ad’ika - little one, son or daughter at any age

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum - I love you (literally, “I know you forever.”)

Cyare - beloved

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[esamastation]

Cody kind of finds out that Obi-wan is touch-starved and gets creative to find reasons to lean against/hug the man. Once that gets familiar, they just start to slide into a relationship

Cody doesn't really think anything about the first time it happens. 

It's been a long day and they're all tired, even the General who can usually keep going on trice as long as anyone else is sagging where he's sitting. Cody had gone to him to pass the freshly tallied inventory, how much ammunition and equipment they had left, how many weapons, how much food.

They'd been in a canyon then, the space was limited – the AT-TE took most of it. So they'd been crowded around the edges of the canyon, taking cover under and behind any rocky formation they could. To keep their discussion somewhat private among the troopers, Cody had been standing closer to the General than usual, right next to him, all but leaning over him as the General sat on a rock and perused the datapad. And as they talked the General had begun to… very slowly, very subtly…

…lean against Cody's thigh.

Cody chalked it up as the General being exhausted, which was proven correct by the fact that the man later went to sleep without his customary meditation. He didn't think much of it after that – even if the weight against his plastoid armour had been a strangely pleasant one at the time and Cody had very vehemently not minded it.

But then, some days later, it happens again. Not precisely that exact thing, but something similar. It's after a skirmish in the canyons – they've won a little more ground and set up a secure perimeter, and they're having a meal. There are no tables, no chairs, so the men are scattered around sitting on rocks, and so is General Kenobi too – and so is Cody. They're sharing the same rock, even – which is a weird sort of humble honour, all things considered. His rank as Marshal Commander earns him the right to share a rock with their General. Now that's privilege.

Cody had been wondering if he should share the thought, not entirely sure why he finds it amusing, when behind him General Kenobi shifts a little, trying to find a better purchase on their privileged rock. There's a clack of armour against armour, as their backs touch, and it brings Cody out of his thoughts.

"Well," General Kenobi says. "Here's to the nobility of war."

"Sir?" Cody asks, tilting his head to look at him over his shoulder.

The General hums with wry amusement. "I was just thinking of all those advertisements we did, about what honour it is to serve the republic, about the great duty we were embarking upon, how glorious. Here we are, all sharing rocks," he chuckles and glances at Cody in turn. "Truly, we have attained greatness here."

Cody snorts, not sure if he gets the joke or not. "I was just thinking something like that, sir," he admits. "About how rank allows us a shared rock. What a privilege it is."

Kenobi snorts into his rations. "It has indeed been a privilege to share a rock with you, Commander."

Stars, they're probably both sleep deprived, Cody thinks with rueful amusement, and then he notices it – the weight pressing against his back plate. Kenobi is leaning against him, just a little.

Once it's a chance, twice…

Hm.

Cody tests it, a day or so later. They're trenched in the canyons now, setting up a line – and it looks terribly like they'll be stuck there until air support could get to them. While the troopers set up defences, Cody talks tactics with the General and stands a little closer than necessary to him, offering without words his side to the man. And again, eventually, Kenobi ends up just barely leaning towards him.

It's a weird sort of thrill, to have noticed it and now that he has, Cody can't help but test it. he thinks of all the times he'd had to physically catch the Generals attention, to draw him away from whatever he was feeling with the Force, thinking of how he reacted every time…

Cody spots the General, sitting near a set of ladders set to the canyon walls, and walks over to him – careful to make his approach quiet and unnoticeable, though not obviously so. Used to men moving all around him, General Kenobi doesn't look up, keeping his eyes on the datapad. Cody could call for his attention verbally but…

He puts his hand on the General's shoulder instead, applying enough weight for it to be felt through the armour – and then he watches as an immediate reaction runs through the man. He sits up straighter, his shoulder pushing against Cody's hand, and tenses completely, and then relaxes immediately after. "Cody," he says, turning.

"Looks like there will be a sand storm, sir," Cody says, his mouth suddenly, confusingly dry. "You should get to a tent."

"Ah," the General says, blinking. "Yes, of course – thank you, commander."

There is no stopping it afterwards – Cody has caught a glimpse of something in the General now, and he wants to see it more. So, he… pushes on.

In the following days he gets the General to lean against his side on four different occasions. He sees the stop, tense, relax reaction twice, once when he touches the man's shoulder again, once when he puts a hand on the man's back. The greatest reaction he gets is when his hand slips from the plastoid gauntlet to grip on the General's elbow instead, gloved fingers slipping where the armour doesn't cover. He can feel the bones of the General's elbow through his gloves and through the man's clothing, and then he notices the reaction.

The General swallows, blinking, staring at nothing for a moment – it takes him a moment to catch himself, but the break in his usual character is so obvious that Cody's heart begins to pound. For a moment, the General was held, utterly stalled, by Cody's fingers on his elbow.

Then the moment is over and they're planning on where to put the guns.

There's no stopping it afterwards – Cody couldn't have stopped if he wanted to, and he doesn't particularly want to. It's – he's flirting with the regs, he knows that, this sort of thing could get him reprimanded or demoted or worse – but Kenobi never makes any motion or allusion to any of the sort. Cody isn't sure the man has even noticed. So, Cody pushes on.

He takes every opportunity, every bit of privacy, to touch. He's careful about it, he's neither stupid nor willing to put his own or the General's reputation on the line. But behind cover, in the man's tent, at meal times… he will find some excuse to touch. Hand on shoulder, tap on arm, shoulder pressed against shoulder as they sit side by side to share a meal – he gets creative when he has to. Once, he gets his boot to rest against Kenobi's for nearly half an hour, and he's absolutely certain Kenobi feels it.

Something changes somewhere along the way. Kenobi's reaction never stops being gratifying in a weirdly heartbreaking way, but eventually he stops being surprised by it. At first Cody is worried the man noticed, that he's – aware of what Cody is doing. But there's no words, no reprimand, Kenobi doesn't so much as give him a knowing look. But somewhere along the way, he stops being surprised.

He gets used to it. Cody thinks he might even on some subconscious level start expecting it. Every time Cody gets close enough to touch, Kenobi expects him to. And so Cody does, with increasing thrill and something like hope, that maybe, maybe something impossible might be possible and then…

Then their campaign in the canyons end. The planet is theirs, the Separatists surrender it to their rule, and the 212th is recalled to space. And along with the crowded canyons and sand storms and convenient moments in privacy… go with all the excuses to get too close.

Cody tries not to be disappointed, tries not to regret it. The whole campaign had been a dredge from start to finish and he's by far not the only one looking forward to regular chances to use freshers and cleaners. But he's disappointed anyway.

He swallows it and goes back to work, filling in requisition forms by the dozen to replenish the gear they lost, the ammunition they spent – the men they lost.

"Ah, there you are," Kenobi says, seeing him in one of the offices. "No, don't get up," he waves as Cody moves to stand to greet him. "Stars know we've all earned the right to use chairs for once. Are you done with requisitions?"

"Almost, sir," Cody agrees, resting his elbow on the backrest of the chair to look at him. "Do you have any additions?"

"Some, yes," Kenobi says and comes to his side, to his personal space, pressing against his back. "Can I see?"

"Of course, sir," Cody says, even as his body feels like it's suddenly been dunked into a hot pool of water, and lifts the datapad for the General to look. Kenobi leans over his shoulder a little, reaching one hand to flick through the forms.

His other hand finds itself on Cody's shoulder, resting on his pauldron, pressing down.

For a moment Cody just sits there, frozen, holding the data pad and barely breathing.

And then he forces himself to relax and very carefully, very subtly, and lets himself lean back against the man. It feels like connecting a broken wire, restarting a stalled engine, and Cody thinks that's it and is more than satisfied by that. Maybe, even outside the trenches, they can have… something he doesn't dare to name, and but leans towards anyway. It would need to be careful, a thing of stolen moments with no shared words, but maybe it could happen, maybe he wouldn't get into trouble for wanting it, maybe…

"What do you say to more air support?" Kenobi says. "As much as I enjoyed the canyons, I would rather not get our men trenched so easily again."

"I wouldn't say no," Cody says. "But I think it might be a little too much to hope, sir. Ours is an Attack Battalion, after all. We're made for ground assaults."

The General sighs and leans back a little, thinking. "That is true, I suppose. One can hope, though, no?"

Then Kenobi's bare fingers wander over his pauldron to his neck, and to bare skin, to simply rest there, his thumb brushing against the closely cropped hairline, and Cody thinks he might be in trouble after all.

[bffhreprise]

Best Friend For Hire Reprise, 382

 “Slow down!” exclaimed Iris.  “Turn left just up ahead.”

 I nodded and complied.  She knew where her boss lived better than any of us, having never visited this suburb befored.  I probably would have missed the break in the endless fence had she not warned me, especially when I was trying to guess the cost of having a large amount of land next to a park in a pricey suburb.  To my surprise, the gate opened for us immediately.

 “He doesn’t care much for security, does he?” I teased, looking around to see if there was some sort of guard who would have opened the gate for us.

 “Mila watches everything, so there’s no need.  There are sensors and cameras all over the yard that let her know if anything is disturbed.” explained Iris matter-of-factly.

 I nodded, but my eyes were locked on our destination in the distance, barely visible through all of the rain.  I had considerably underestimated the size of this place.  I very much doubted that I could even afford to maintain the yard for very many years and could only guess that the property tax had to be immense.

 As my sons grew excited about the bushes, I looked over and stared for several seconds.  Every single bush along the long driveway had been carefully sculpted into characters that I recognized from video games my kids enjoyed.  I could only imagine the amount of time and number of people involved in such artwork, leading me to believe James spent even more on his yard annually than I originally had guessed.  Even the fountain—an immense, two-story affair that was very elaborately sculpted—was immaculate, showing no signs of wear or neglect.  James certainly knew how to make an impression.

 When we stepped inside, passing past two sets of double doors that opened for us, James was descending down one of the staircases which curved up to a balcony on the second floor.  “James!  Thank you for having us.  This is quite a place you’ve got here.  Sorry if we brought the storm.” I told him, gesturing to the weather outside.

 “There’s plenty to see.” he politely agreed.  “Thank you for accepting the invitation.  I thought you might be interested in seeing a little more about my company than most, since you seemed curious during the game.  Mick was supposed to stop by a while ago but apparently didn’t get the time.”

 “This place is awesome!” exclaimed Matt.

 “Sorry, James.” muttered Mick.

 “No need to apologize.  We’ll just review with your family today what I wanted to tell you before.” replied James, smiling at us.

 I suddenly found myself floating as a soft breeze blew at me from inside the mansion.  Looking to my sides, I saw that my family, save for my daughter, were also floating.

 Before I could do more than exclaim in surprise, James spoke up, telling us, “Magic is real, and your family can use it.”

 I stared at them, my mind trying to figure out how he was doing this.  Was this some elaborate prank using a new technology?  “Wh-What…” was all I managed to say before we were gently lowered to the ground.

 “You wanted to know what I was feeding my employees.  I train them physically, mentally, and in magical arts.  We didn’t use spells at the baseball game, but we have numerous advantages that are completely unfair.” explained James.  “For example, I can physically lift your family’s van, though using spells is easier to ensure I don’t compromise the frame.”

 I swore, feeling like I had been had, before my better judgement kicked in.  My family was currently at this boy’s mercy.

 James’ smile broadened as he said, “If you don’t mind coming out back, I’ll ask the wonderful gardener to demonstrate something people tend to grasp more easily.”  Not hearing any argument from us, he motioned for us to follow him and started telling us  “Mirabella and Mike can’t create the electrical discharges like the rest of you.  She has a different heritage, and Mike took after his mother.”

 “How could you possibly know that?” asked Mike in surprise.

 “My secretary ran a background check on Iris prior to her being hired, and she’s so thorough that I feel like she knows everything.  You wouldn’t believe how long she takes to brief me on things.” explained James as he glanced back at my son.  “My concern with Mick is that he and Iris tended to play games with their ability, which caught enough notice for my secretary to file it in the report.  There are some out there who prey on those with abilities such as yours, so being a little more cautious tends to be wise.”

 That sounded far too believable.  I probably should have chewed those two out more often, but I had never believed anyone would have noticed their antics.  “You claim you can lift cars, and you can obviously lift us.  What else can you do, James?” I asked, wanting a firmer handle on whom I was dealing with.

 “So many things, Dad.  James is like a wizard combined with an overly strong fighter from some fantasy novel.” insisted Iris from behind me.

 I glanced back at her, surprised at how serious she looked.

 “I’ve also learned to make a great cup of tea.  My wife can be picky.” insisted James.

 “What’s that smell..?” questioned Mike longingly.

 Now that he mentioned it, I didn’t recognize the smell either, though I was certain it was food.  My mouth was already watering.

 “We’re almost to the kitchen, and Marco’s making you quite the treat.  I’m sure he won’t mind us passing through.  Just be prepared for a few samples.” encouraged James.

 The kitchen was as large as was fitting a house this size, and even there the fanciful engravings didn’t yield.  Every cabinet was beautifully carved, as were the very large table and chairs.

 Marco, the chef, was extraordinarily eager for us to sample “a few things” before we moved onward, despite assuring us that dinner would be ready soon.  Only when James pointed out there was more for us to see before dinner did Marco give way, giving us permission to pass through his kitchen into the garden beyond.

 The rain didn’t reach us as we followed James outside, hitting some invisible barrier and sliding away.

 “I don’t suppose you worry about getting struck by lightning.” I commented as I watched the sky.

 “Worried, no, but I didn’t find that to be pleasant either.” he told me sincerely.

 I stared at him, my eyes searching for any sign that he had ever been struck, but I found nothing, save for how confident he seemed.  

 “If your magic were stronger, you’d actually be able to guide a lightning bolt around you.  Iris has practiced enough that she could knock an assailant down with just the shock.” he commented, making me glance back at my daughter.

 “You can?” questioned Mick excitedly.

 She nodded, grinned, and said, “Yep, though I could take you in a fight without one.”  

 “All trained up now, are you?” questioned Mark, my eldest son.

 Iris laughed, shaking her head.  “You wouldn’t believe the standards here.”

 “I take it that James is the strongest, being the boss.” suggested Mike.

 James shook his head and said, “Not even close.”  Then he pointed to a fortress in the distance and asked “Do you see the keep over there?”

 I nodded along with a couple of my sons.

 “The strongest best friend created that with a stray thought.” claimed James.

 “What!?  No way!” exclaimed Mike.

 Nodding, James said, “She showed up in my office to tell me that she ‘oopsed’ a second after.  She’s been training recently to avoid that type of mistake.  I imagine she’ll be capable of creating a large city in a day on a whim within a few years.  I’d probably spend at least a week on a small town, and that’s if I collected the resources ahead of time.”

 I found the idea mind-boggling.  James seemed humble as he claimed that he could create a small town in a week.

 “You’d take at least a month, man-sla-... er… boss?” announced Emma, turning the statement into a question at the end.  “You get too distracted.  I could handle a village in an hour!”  She was soaked, but grinning.

 Before my eyes, the water soaking her clothes drifted away to join the rain outside.

 “Emma, I’m sure you remember Iris’ father, Grayson.  This is her mother, Mirabella.  From oldest to youngest, her brothers are Mark, Mick, Mike, and Matt.  Everyone, this is my gardener, Emma.”

 “Shouldn’t I be your favorite gardener?” she asked teasingly.

 “Sure.” he conceded.

 “Hear that?  I’m his favorite!” she exclaimed proudly.

 “Do you create villages with a stray thought?” questioned Mike.

 “Nah.  I do this.” she replied, watching us all.  After a couple seconds, wooden buildings rose out of the ground between the garden and the keep.

 “Mine would have functional electricity, plumbing, and the other luxuries people expect these days.” argued James with a smile.

 She stuck her tongue out at him.  Then she said, “My plumbing would work if I created a water tower.  Plants can be very good at guiding water.  As for electricity, I’ve been talking with Jarod about ways to generate a current with plants.  We have plans and stuff!”

 “You mean he had a crazy idea and chatted your ear off.” suggested James.

 “I thought the idea was cool and agreed to try eventually!” she insisted.

 “The idea was actually Maxine’s.  She has some experience with bioengineering from when she considered creating a cyborg army.” corrected Mila, who had discretely joined us without me noticing.

 “You can create cyborgs!?’ questioned Matt excitedly.

 “There has been some tech created here which could be used toward that end, but we’re not experimenting on people.” explained James.

 “I didn’t know you were in the tech industry.” commented my wife.

 James smiled at her and diplomatically told her “My company dabbles in many things to help prepare our best friends for a very large variety of jobs.”

 Grinning, Emma said, “He means to say ‘Yes.  Yes, we are.’  Mua ha ha ha ha!”  She drummed her fingers together while obviously attempting to look like some comic book villain.

James sighed and said, “Emma, mind getting rid of your starter village and showing the Storms how you help the kitchen?”

 “Fiiiine,” she begrudgingly told him, “but I might use some buildings to compliment the topiary when I change things up again.”

 “Sounds fun.” he agreed.

 From there, she started demonstrating how she could make the plants grow, revert to seeds, or provide as much food as she wanted.  She could also force plants to grow beyond their normal proportions and control them as easily as she controlled her own limbs, which led her into demonstrating how she had produced the bats her team had used for our baseball game.  Before she seemed remotely ready to quit demonstrating her abilities, Mila announced that food was ready.

 Instead of eating at the long table in the kitchen, we were taken to a large dining hall with an even more elaborate table.  There were already carts of food waiting nearby, and Mila urged us to help ourselves, since no one here would hesitate when they arrived.

 As we ate, we were entertained with more demonstrations of magic from those who had joined us.  James’ wife, Alma, created elaborate displays of fire and ice.  Ai and Mai created a sort of play with tiny figures made of water acting out their parts just above the table.  Jemal fetched more food for the particularly hungry using nothing but his magic, causing whatever was requested to float through the air.  James himself demonstrated illusions, making us see whatever he wanted while assuring us the magic the others had used was real.  Whether because I had felt myself being lifted earlier or because he had no reason to lie, I believed him.  Iris’ boss was the most interesting, and perhaps the most dangerous, man I had ever met.

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #7

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.2k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: a bit of talking down on yourself, the confusion continues, general fluff with a touch of angst 

a/n: this is the final date. guys...how is this going by so fast?? please let me know your thoughts on the date, on everything else overall...and I’ll see you soon? Next Saturday is the finale!

Date #7

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

Note from the creator of this stupid idea:

I loved her first.

 “Who do you think it was? Any ideas?”

           “I…” you shrug. “No?”

           Gina arches a brow, staring you down from across your kitchen table. “So, that was a lie.”

           You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest, Gina also chuckling. It’s a relief, the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to call you out. You’re grateful that you finagled her number from Jin, shooting him a text that looked a lot like this:

Me: Burn this after reading

Me: We can’t have any evidence !!

Kim Seokjinnie: ok, hi. I’m not burning my phone weirdo. I’ll just keep it away from Jungkook. What’s up??

Me: Hi. You know what I meant.

Me: Can you give me Gina’s number?

Kim Seokjinnie: Sure, I’ll send you the contact in a second. You two gonna hang out or something?

Me: Hopefully…do you think it’s weird if I just ask her out of the blue? Will she not wanna come?

Kim Seokjinnie: Nah, she’s pretty chill. I bet she’ll come

Kim Seokjinnie: *Kim Seokjinnie shared a contact with you*

Kim Seokjinnie: do you need anything before I burn my phone?

Me: no, thank you!! I owe you one. I’m short on friends rn, hopefully she’ll come over

Kim Seokjinnie: I’m sorry  miss you. We’ll all get to hang out once this is all over, I promise.

“Yah! I really don’t know. I mean they’ve all be so…”

“So what?”

You sigh, sounding like some kid in a dreamy teen movie. “Perfect?”

“There’s no such thing,” Gina huffs, leaning back in her chair. It’s a bit rickety, you’d found it at a yard sale with Namjoon and Jimin. You had just moved into your apartment, and realized that you were a little low on furniture. Together, you’d managed to find three mismatching chairs that made you grin each time you saw them.

It was a little odd at the time, you didn’t want to buy three chairs. Two seemed like plenty. They convinced you though, and looking back you understand why they were so adamant.

Wasn’t it rule #3? “Limit one-on-one interaction”? Three chairs made it so that there was always space for at least two of them.

Suddenly you look at the most average things in your house with different eyes.

Groaning, you rub your hands over your face. You’ve probably smudged your makeup, but you don’t care. It’s Friday night, you can do whatever you want.

“Unfortunately, I really think that there might be.” You let out a dry chuckle. “Seven dates with the world’s most perfect men. I knew I was screwed from the beginning, but this, I mean, I didn’t expect it to go this far.”

“On the bright side, you only have one more to go.” Gina gets up, stretching before moving to put her plate in the sink. She’d picked up some takeout on her way to your house, proving to you that you two are going to be friends for a long, long time.

“I’m terrified because of that. What happens after tomorrow’s date? I know it’s up to me, but I feel like I’m waiting for someone to come tell me the next step.”

Gina hums in agreement, shooting you an apologetic look. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed out how flirty they were at the haunted house. You never would have gotten into this mess.”

“No,” you wave her off. “It’s not your fault. Jungkook let it slip anyway, after the door closed on us in the basement. Ugh, I still get freaked out thinking about that. Has that happened since?”

Gina pauses over the sink, back turned to you as she runs her plate under the hot water. After a moment she shuts it off, turning around to wipe her hands off on a dish towel before leaning up against the counter.

“Erm…”

Your stomach drops. “What.”

“It’s just…” she crosses her arms and uncrosses them, unsure of what to do with her hands. “The door is connected to a little button on every employee’s key fob. You know, just for some extra scare factor.”

You meet her sheepish gaze with a blank stare. “So you’re telling me…”

“It’s just a part of the tour,” Gina shrugs. “Wait, what happened? He told you about the pact when the door closed? That’s…that’s honestly not the most romantic setting-”

“No no, we had a little moment after the door closed, and we almost kissed. But he stopped himself and said the I didn’t have to worry about him making a move. When we got out, I asked him why, and that’s when he mentioned the pact.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So tomorrow is the last date, correct?”

           “Yup.”

           “Look,” Gina notices your worried expression. “Do yourself a favor. Let go. Don’t waste tomorrow thinking about what’s gonna happen next. Focus on the moment, ok? Then how about we get together next week sometime to talk everything over? If you feel like that might help, that is.”

           You definitely made the right choice in inviting Gina over. You can already feel your stress levels going down.

           “Ok.”

           You’re up early the next morning, earlier than you’d like. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on your sofa, basking in the golden morning sun and watching the little dust motes float in the air, but it’s certainly been a while.

           For once, it’s quiet in your mind. You’re not sure why now, why today. There’s no doubt you’ll be your typical bumbling mess once Yoongi picks you up, but for now all is peaceful.

           It’s the last date. Somehow, despite how much you’ve enjoyed these little escapades, you feel relief at the thought. Knowing that you’ve made it nearly to the end without doing anything remarkably stupid (you’re still mortified that you and Jimin got kicked out of that basilica but oh well), and now you’re so close.  

           For now, you slide your worries under the rug, to be left there for the weekend. You curl your legs under you and lean your head back against the cushions to drink in the sunlight. It warms your skin, leaving you feeling even better than before.

           Yoongi is supposed to be here around four. Jungkook had sent you a quick text earlier in the week checking that you didn’t have any plans for Saturday afternoon and night. You didn’t bother to tell him that you always had all day open for them.

           While the exchange had been short, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was blushing just as much as you when his contact popped up on your screen. In an instant you were plunged into the memory of clinging to him just outside your front door, Jungkook’s shaky breaths the only thing keeping you planted in reality.

           Either way, it was safe to say that you were a blushing mess despite the simplicity of the text. He kept it strictly professional, not once alluding to the events of last Saturday. But you could still hear those words he uttered when he asked if you ever thought about what might have happened if he’d kissed you in the haunted house when he had the chance.

           “I do. Every day.”

           Of course you thought about it. You let out an amused huff on the couch, laughing to yourself. Who wouldn’t? But the only thing was the fact that you were thinking about a lot of things. Not just Jungkook.

           Or his lips, for that matter.

           The couch rustles as you get up, deciding to change out of your red sweatshirt for a green one. You’d been instructed to dress warm, which made you wonder what was planned for today. Outside everything looks warm and pleasant, certainly no need for anything too heavy.

           By the time afternoon rolls around, you’re tempted to call up Gina for a late lunch or something. To say you’re antsy is an understatement; you’re positively losing it. The clock on the wall has decided to try its hand at stopping time altogether, and you think it’s doing a pretty good job of it. Every time you glace over, seemingly no time has passed.

           This time, you really start to wonder if no time has passed. You swear it’s been stuck at 3 o’clock for a while-

           The sound of someone knocking on your door has you nearly tipping over from where you perch trying to grab the clock.

           For some stupid reason, you’re frozen to your spot at the far end of your living room. Holding the clock in your hands, you jump a little as a second tentative knock sounds.

           To your utter mortification, your mouth opens and you yell out, “Come in!”

           You’re still frozen in place when the door opens and Yoongi pokes his head in. His eyes immediately land on you, a sheepish smile that he has a hard time containing immediately breaking out.

           “You’re not planning on throwing that at me, right?” He asks, making you glare down at the clock you cling to.

           “Oh.” Your knuckles have turned white, and somehow your heart has decided to try its hand at sprinting a marathon. “No. I- it’s broken. I think.”

           Yoongi shuffles inside, closing the door gently behind him before wandering over to you. His pale complexion makes the pink on his cheeks easy to spot. Somehow the fact that he’s blushing makes you blush.

           “Do you have batteries around here?” He asks quietly, hiding his amusement.

           “Maybe in the kitchen?” You brush past him, handing off the clock. “Would you mind getting the old batteries out?”

           He mumbles out a sure, plopping down on your sofa while he gets to work on the clock. He’s wearing a similar outfit to you, which makes you smile. It’s not very often these days that he sports a bandana and you wonder if he somehow knew that you love the way he looks in it. His hair looks particularly fluffy as it kisses his forehead, the dark bandana giving him an air of coolness you know you could never pull off.

           Rummaging around your kitchen drawers, you pause when you realize what you’re doing. Are you stalling? What’s the rush to fix a clock when you have Min Yoongi in the other room waiting to take you out?

           Closing the drawer, you take a deep breath and shake your head.

           “Sorry Yoongi,” you call out, trudging back into the living room. “I’m an idiot.”

           He looks at you over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your reasoning?”

           “Ouch.”

           Yoongi chuckles, setting the clock down on the coffee table before getting to his feet. “Wow, is it just me or…”

           You wince. “This got off to a bad start, huh.”

           “Yeah.”

           Looking at each other from across the room, you realize just how much you’ve missed him. His witty sarcastic remarks, his honesty.

           Him.

           “Can we start over? Go knock on the door again.”

           Yoongi’s already on his way, huffing out a laugh as he steps outside. “Alright, see you in a second.” The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re suddenly left with the silence of your house.

           As Yoongi timidly knocks on the door, the same sense of calm you experienced this morning settles over you.

           The seventh date. No more guessing who’s on the other side of the door, no more anxious glances in the mirror to check that everything looks flawless. It’s just you, Yoongi, and the door between you.

           There’s already a smile on your face as you open that door, finding Yoongi standing with his hands in his pocket. He returns your grin, feeling like a fellow conspirator in a heist that has yet to be planned.

           “I’m here,” he announces, then adds with a chuckle, “finally.”

           “Took you long enough,” you tease, reaching out to grab his jacket and pull him inside. He feigns a horrified expression at your flirty nature, but you just roll your eyes. You’re not sure who wraps their arms around the other first, but the next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in a tight embrace.

           I missed you, is what you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. The lump that’s formed there only grows thicker with emotion as Yoongi’s gravelly voice rumbles against your hair.

           “How’re you holding up?”

           Your arms fall around his waist, ever aware of his shoulder. Even though he says he’s completely healed now, you aren’t taking any chances. It’s quiet for a long moment as you struggle to find an answer.

           “I…fine. I’m fine.” You pull away and arch an eyebrow at him, pleased to see that is cheeks are still rosy despite the serious look in his eye. “How are you holding up?”

           He lets out a breathy laugh, dropping your gaze. “Fine.” Then, when he catches your disbelieving stare, he states as innocently as possible, “What? Aren’t we lying to each other tonight?”

           “You suck.”

           “See!” He exclaims as you step out of his grasp to grab your things. “You always do that when you’ve been caught in a lie!”

           “Ugh, yah! I wasn’t lying,” you turn around to face him, walking backward toward your room. “I’m fine, really.”

           He shrugs. “And so am I.”

           You stifle your laughter as you enter your room, grabbing your things and wondering if you should grab a coat. “Do I really need a coat?” You call down the hall.

           “Yes!”

           Pursing your lips, you snatch the puffy monstrosity from your closet before turning to head out. Double checking that you have everything you need; your eyes can’t help but glance at the item sitting atop your dresser.

           You stick your tongue out at it. A few seconds later it’s tucked safely away in your top drawer and you’re heading out into the hallway. Your stomach does an uneasy flip as you recall the words that are practically burned in the backs of your eyelids now.

           I loved her first.

           Yoongi gets up from off the couch, waiting for you beside the door. His dark eyes survey you as you walk toward him. “Good to go?” He asks quietly. Clutching your coat a little tighter to your chest, you nod.

           The two of you head out, locking up your apartment and settling in the car that Yoongi drove over. Before long, you’re out on the highway, speeding toward your destination.

           Which, you’ve just realized, is still a mystery to you.

           “Sooo…” You begin, smiling lazily at Yoongi. You take a moment to admire his hands that are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Where are we going?”

           A smile tugs at his lips, but he manages to contain it as he adopts a serious expression. He glances over at you. “We’re going to see the sea.”

           “We’re…” you stutter, furrowing your brows. “We’re going to see the sea?”

           A breathy chuckle escapes him. “Yeah. But it’s a long drive, so are you down to listen to a murder-mystery with me?”

           “YES.”

            You’re still pretty sure that it was the nosy maid that did it by the time you arrive at your destination. Two hours, one murder-mystery short audiobook, and several snacks later, the sun is well on its way to the horizon when Yoongi pulls off to a sandy parking lot filled to the brim with cars.

           There’s tons of people mulling about, several of them appear to be young families who smile fondly as their children laugh and play in the sand. There’s a couple of food-trucks that have popped up on the beach, which sport long lines. Yoongi observes them woefully, seeming to come to some sort of understanding with himself before moving to get out of the car.

           “Woah, what’s with all the people? Is this beach always this busy?”

           It’s a beach you’ve never been to before, the pristine sand glowing as the sun makes its way across the sky.

           “Today’s a special occasion,” Yoongi explains, popping the trunk and rummaging around. “We should probably pick out a spot now before all the good ones are taken.”

           You come around to the back of the car to meet him, taking the blanket he extends out to you. Leaving your big coat in the backseat, you hope he doesn’t scold you and tell you to put it on. Right now it’s windy, but fairly warm. No need to look like a living marshmallow just yet.

           Before you can inquire after what the special occasion is, Yoongi passes you a couple of water bottles and begins rattling off instructions.

           “How about I jump in line to buy us some dinner,” the way he says it so casually has your heart skipping a beat for some reason, “and you head down the beach to scout out a decent spot?”

           “But what kind of spot do you mean? Is there a show or something?”

           Yoongi pauses, closing the trunk and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, something like that. A show. Just find a spot that you like, I’ll come find you with our food, ok?”

           “Ay ay, captain.” You trudge away, hoisting the blanket up higher in your arms as you begin to look for an empty space. The immediate surrounding beach area appears to be pretty packed, which has you marching farther and farther away from the parking lot.

           You grin as a couple of children race past you, giggling as they fly their kites. It’s looks like it’s a little boy and with his younger sister, trying their best to keep their kites afloat in wind. Waving at them, your smile only grows as the boy sheepishly turns away and the girl cheerfully waves back.

           It feels like you walk for years before finding a clearing. You were definitely looking for a semi-secluded spot, not too keen on spending your long-awaited date with Yoongi surrounded by strangers. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone what the big deal is about today before you’re laying the blanket out. Not wanting to leave anything unattended just for it to blow away, you decide to just be patient until Yoongi finds you.

           The sand is warm beneath the blanket as you plop down, resting with your face turned toward the sun as you let out a content sigh. Despite the chill of the wind, the sun warms you right up.

           “Why are you alone?”

           Peeking one eye open at the little voice, you’re delighted to see the same little girl from earlier standing a little ways away. She watches you with a meek expression, her kite forgotten at her feet.

           “Oh, I’m not alone,” you explain. “I’m just waiting for my friend to come find me. He went to go get food.”

           “Oh.” The young girl shuffles her feet. “My mommy says that I need to get all my wiggles out before the show.”

           You chuckle. “Really? What show are we watching tonight? Is it Disney?” That would certainly make sense for all of the young families here tonight. Did Yoongi bring you to a beach-front outdoor movie?

           “No, silly!” The girl giggles at your questions. “The sky’s coming to say hello!”

           “What?”

           “That’s what my mommy said. She said, ‘Young-mi get your wiggles out, the sky is coming to say hello soon!’”

           You blink, a little amused by Young-mi’s earnest response. “I see…I didn’t know that the sky was coming to say hello tonight.”

           “Then why are you here?”

           “Oh,” you crane your neck toward the parking lot, but it’s too far away to see Yoongi. “My friend brought me, as a surprise.”

           “Wow,” Young-mi utters in a reverent tone. “Can I meet your friend?”

           “I don’t see why not.”

           With a gleeful shout, Young-mi takes off running, her kite skipping along the ground behind her. She runs toward her family, her mother grinning at the sight before reaching out to pull her into her arms. You watch on with a forgotten smile, wondering for a split second what that would be like.

           If you squint, that could be Yoongi sitting beside Young-mi’s mother, throwing his head back with laughter at something his daughter says to him. Their son crouches in the sand nearby, digging around as though searching for gold.

           Laying down with a soft sigh, you close your eyes and let the little daydream take over. Here, at the beach. Telling your children that this is where you had your first date; laughing as they make disgusted faces when Yoongi plants a loud kiss on your cheek-

           “Did the nosy maid get to you?”

           Yoongi stands above you with arms laden with food. He blocks out the sun, the rays coming around to make him appear like an angel. Judging from the delicious smells radiating from the food he carries, you think he actually might be.

           “Ah, so you agree that you think it was her that murdered Duke Rittington?” Your voice sounds a little croaky, a testament to the fact that you were just dozing a moment ago. Leaning up to ease some of the food from his arms, Yoongi snorts.

           “No. It was obviously the son. Why can’t you see it?”

           Rolling your eyes, you pat a spot next to you on the blankets. Yoongi takes the seat without hesitation. “Because, the son seems like too easy of a suspect. Whereas the maid-”

           The screams of Young-mi as she rushes toward you cut you off. “You have a boyfriend?!”

           “Oh, no.”

           Yoongi leans over, still busy arranging the bags of food – is that a cheeseburger you see? – around the blanket. “Who’s that?” He mumbles.

           “I, uh, made a friend while you were grabbing food,” you explain with a small smile.

           Now Young-mi reaches your blanket, dropping to her knees as she gazes up at Yoongi with wide, innocent eyes. “Hi, my name is Young-mi and I’m four years old. I’m the second tallest in my class.” Young-mi prattles off information, her large eyes never once leaving Yoongi’s face. “Are you her boyfriend? I hope you’re her boyfriend.”

           Yoongi lets out a startled laugh. “You do? Why’s that?”

           “You’re so pretty.”

           Now both of you burst out laughing, Young-mi looking utterly confused at your outburst. Yoongi covers his face with his hands, shaking his head.

           “What? What’s so funny?” Young-mi questions.

           You grin at her. “You think he’s pretty?” The little girl nods enthusiastically. “I do too.”

           Yoongi peers over at you at this comment, an unasked question in his eyes. The pink in his cheeks has intensified, as has your own blush.

           “Aren’t I supposed to be the one complementing you?” He asks under his breath. You shrug.

           “You brought food, so now we’re even.”

           Young-mi lingers a little while longer, asking a few questions and drawing in the sand. Munching down on your cheeseburger, you eye Young-mi’s kite.

           “Do you mind if I try to fly your kite for a second?” The question is out of your mouth before you can fully process it, but Young-mi looks up at you excitedly.

           “Yes!!” She squeals, immediately dragging the little handle over to you. “You have to run really fast, that’s what my mommy told me. Then it’ll fly!”

           Glancing back at Yoongi as you clamber to your feet, you don’t miss the fond smile he wears as he watches the interaction take place. You wave at him, heading off down the beach with Young-mi. Once you’ve walked far enough, you wink down at her.

           “Ok, you run on ahead and I’ll catch up in a few seconds.”

           The girl wastes no time running off, her laughter making you feel lighter than you have in weeks. Once she’s far enough off, you take off after her. She heads straight toward her family, who smile at you as you attempt to get the kite off the ground.

           Sand flies up behind you as you race, and you catch a glimpse of Yoongi with his phone out, recording you with a wide smile on his face. The sun has hit the horizon now, a dizzying array of colors sending your mind into a joyful frenzy. Up ahead, Young-mi has successfully made it to her family and is waiting for you to catch up. She jumps up and down as the kite soars above you, the little pinwheels attached to it spinning around in the wind.

           A bit more energy overtakes you, and you sprint the last few yards toward Young-mi, unable to stop the laugh that jumps out of you. You feel so free, here on the beach. It’s almost like you’re up there flying with the kite-

           “Wait!”

           Someone shouts it, you’re not exactly sure who, but by the time the plea registers in your ears, it’s too late. Foot catching in the hole that Young-mi’s brother had been digging earlier, you feel a twist of pain before tumbling to the ground.

           You cry out, barely managing to catch yourself before faceplanting it. The handle from Young-mi’s kite digs painfully into your hand, but that’s the least of your problems at the moment.

           Young-mi’s family rushes over to you, but before they reach you Yoongi is dropping to your side.

           “Oh,” you pant, “hi Yoongs.”

           “Are you alright?” He’s also panting, and you wonder if he had begun running after you before you even fell, foreseeing your path. “Your foot…”

           “I am so sorry!” Young-mi’s mother stoops down on your other side, her husband right behind her. “We completely forgot that Doyun even dug that hole! Can you move? Are you in pain?”

           From where you’re laying belly-down on the sand, you can’t help but feel the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks. “I…move? Yeah, I can – ah never mind.” You wince as you attempt to get to your feet only for the dull ache in your right foot to flare up to a fiery red pain. Yoongi immediately reaches out for you, unsure of what to do. His hands ghost over your leg, but retract when you hiss in pain.

           “Here, my husband-” Young-mi’s mother points over her shoulder to the man in question. “He’s a nurse. Honey, could you…?”

           “Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?” The man asks in a gentle voice. “Just to make sure nothing’s broken.”

           With a nod, you allow both him and Yoongi to help you swivel around to sit the correct way, the blush you already have deepening even more when Yoongi takes up a spot at your back. He gently pushes your shoulders back until you’re leaning into his chest, his arms coming to wrap around you in a protective manner.

           When you wince as the man delicately presses down on your already swollen ankle, Yoongi begins talking.

           “So, is it just me, or has this entire night been a disaster?”

           You let out a choked laugh. “No, Yoongs. Well, maybe it has, but it’s all my fault. I can’t believe I fell, how embarrassing…”

           “Oh, are you two out on a date? Er, sorry for prying…”

           Both you and Yoongi awkwardly chuckle. “No, no…um, yeah. We are.”

           “It’s our first date, actually,” Yoongi adds as an afterthought.

           “How exciting! Honey, it’s their first date, did you hear that?”

           The man currently inspecting your ankle spares the two of you a kindly glance. “Good for you two. You make a good looking couple.”

           “But I swear I’ve seen you before,” the mother comments, squinting at Yoongi. “Where do I know you from…”

           You can feel Yoongi tense up behind you, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead he takes to finding your hands (which you’ve slipped into your sweatshirt pocket to avoid accidentally punching the man poking and prodding at your foot), eventually curling his hands around yours and steadily unclenching your fists.

           “Oh! I know it! Do you do commercials?”

           Yoongi lets out an audible sigh of relief, which makes you smile for half a second before a particularly hard prod at your ankle sends you into a tailspin.

           “Yeah, I’ve done a few commercials.”

           “I knew it. How’s it looking, honey?”

           Her husband sits back on his heels, giving you a nod. “Nothing appears to be broken, you just twisted it pretty good. Babe, grab that icepack out of the cooler. You should keep ice on it for a while to counter the swelling.”

           A second later you’re handing a little bag of ice. “I don’t wanna take your ice,” you comment lamely. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, pulling back from you and standing.

           “It’s just a disposable pack we used for the cooler,” the mother explains, waving off your concern. “No need to worry. We’ve got plenty more. Now, go enjoy your date!”

           “Yeah, try your best to have fun. And keep ice on that, on and off for the next couple of days. It shouldn’t give you too much trouble after that.” With a wink toward Yoongi, your temporary nurse gives him a little nudge. “You seem like a good man. I think you’re in good hands here, miss.”

           Young-mi bids you a mournful goodbye as you limp away with Yoongi, quickly coming to find that sand isn’t the kindest to people hopping around on one leg. You’ve made it all of four hops while clinging to Yoongi before he stops.

           “Hop on my back,” he commands, stepping directly in front of you.

           You blanch. “But Yoongi…your shoulder.”

           “It’s fine. Just hop on. You don’t need to limp all the way back to where we’re sitting.” When you hesitate another moment, he looks back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes sparking in the sunset. “Jagiya.”

           Well, the man puts up a convincing argument.

           Yoongi crouches down so you don’t have to jump, and with a bit of careful maneuvering you manage to hop onto his back. His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up a bit higher which makes you gasp a little. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, careful to avoid putting too much pressure on shoulder.

           Setting off toward your abandoned blanket and food, you can’t help but feel a rise of disappointment in your chest.

           “Yoongi?” You mumble, almost sounding like an embarrassed child.

           “Hmm?”

           Hiding your face in the back of his neck, you groan. “I’m sorry.”

           Yoongi’s steps falter before he continues on, confusion evident in his tone. “Sorry? For what?”

           The calm that you felt earlier has completely shattered at this point, and you grit your teeth against the pain in your ankle and the onslaught of emotions that surface. What happened to picture perfect? Why couldn’t you focus?

           Other than sitting in the car together, you feel as though you’ve hardly touched base with Yoongi. You haven’t seen the man in nearly two months, and yet here you are distracted as ever. Distracted with your dumb broke clock, distracted with the audiobook, distracted with a kite.

           Yoongi stops in his tracks as he feels hot tears against his neck. “Jagiya?”

           “I- I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you blubber. “I’m an idiot! I c-can’t focus on anything tonight and…and now I’ve made everything fall apart by going and getting h-hurt…Yoongi, it hurts so bad. A-and now I’m complaining, which is making everything worse!”

           You’re surprised when Yoongi doesn’t say a single thing, instead picking up where he left off as he trudges on toward the blanket. In response to his silence, you continue in your repentant monologue.

           “And you waited in line to get us fooood,” you bite down on your lip as you fight the urge to wail. “It’s probably c-cold now, and you waited for s-so long to get it…I feel like such a bad person…if you don’t wanna continue the date, I u-understand. I promise I won’t tell anyone if you want! J-just, I’m so sorry, Yoongi. I’ve completely ruined this, and you drove t-two hours to get me here….” You’ve reached the blanket now, Yoongi gently sets you down, and you hobble on one foot as you half-expect him to grab his keys and set off toward the car. “I just can’t think straight because I read that stupid pact and-”

           “Woah, back up.”

           Swiveling around to face you, Yoongi has a frown etched into his face. It makes you want to turn and run, to crawl into a cave to die from embarrassment, but it’s the fact that you can barely manage to stand on one foot at the moment – let alone run – that has you standing still.

           “You read the pact?” You blink, hopping a little. When Yoongi sees your struggle he reaches out to you, steadying you. “Here, let’s sit.”

           “W-we’re staying?”

           Yoongi gazes down at you, the look in his eyes turning unspeakable soft. “Yes, jagiya. Unless you aren’t feeling up to it anymore?” He looks as though the thought of leaving now pains him, but he waits patiently for your answer.

           “I wanna stay.”

           “Good. Now, what’s this about you reading the pact?”

           Having successfully turned into a sniffling mess, you wipe away your tears with an angry swipe. It’s time to come clean.

           “I found a copy in Jin’s room-”

           “What were you doing in Jin’s room?!” Yoongi whispers frantically, growing more concerned by the second. You wave him off.

           “-and I took it! I knew I shouldn’t, but I just wanted to know, you know? So I stole it but that was stupid because then I saw that thing on the back…the little note.” Your words trail off, unable to even say the word lovewhen Yoongi’s looking at you like he’s unsure of whether he wants to laugh or cry.

           “The little…note?”

           “Yeah, you know…” You shake your head, moving on. “And since I saw that, I’ve been a mess. Like, an actual mess. I finally called Gina help just to get some help, I needed someone to talk to because you know, I can’t talk to you guys right now which is stupid. But I’m still so lost and I screwed everything up and my ankle hurts Min Yoongi!”

           You’ve stunned yourself into silence with your outburst, Yoongi across from you looks a bit lost himself as he sits back on his heels. It’s clear the moment he comes to a realization.

           “The note.”

           It’s all you can do to breathe normally and not burst out into tears again. Yoongi’s expression turns mournful when he sees you.

           “Oh, jagiya…” leaning forward, Yoongi somehow manages to pull you into his lap. Wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head close to his chest, Yoongi pulls you in as close as he can. He sways gently back and forth, a hand coming up to cup your cheek to make you look at him.

           You do so begrudgingly, feeling like nothing more than a large child. However, the moment you meet his eyes, it hits you like a lightning strike.

           “Do you remember,” he begins quietly, “that time when your final paper accidentally got deleted? All you had left to do on it was add the reference page. You were distraught, remember?”

           Of course you do. It’s the stuff of nightmares. Countless hours spent laboring over a final essay for a class you loathed, only to make a stupid mistake and delete it all. All of it, all nineteen pages were gone in a blink. Your hard work along with it.

           “I remember you called me, a sobbing mess. Obviously I thought you’d hurt yourself, the way you were crying about killed me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, leaving you completely enraptured in his spell as he continues speaking. “I fought with Namjoon because I needed to go see you, but we had a schedule. It was an interview, I don’t even remember for what or with whom, but I was so angry. I seriously thought I was gonna punch him. Then I remembered he goes to the gym a lot more than me, so I didn’t.”

           He manages to make you crack a small grin at that. The sight spurs him on. “But I’ll never forget the sight I saw when I finally made it out to your house later that night. It was like what, two in the morning? No one knew I was even going over, which obviously I did on purpose. I didn’t want to get into another argument. When I walked in your apartment, you were sat at the kitchen table. Remember?”

           The memory is vague, tinged with exhaustion and disappointment, but it’s there. You’d set up camp at your kitchen table all day, missing all other appointments just to try to rewrite your paper. You were half delirious at that point, staring at the screen seemed equal to burning at the stake.

           “I’ve never seen you look more exhausted in my entire life,” Yoongi chuckles. “I remember I was ready to write the paper for you, I was so sad for you. But when I made it over there, I was floored to see that you’d already written it. Not only that, but you’d written twenty-seven pages. Twenty-seven! Who does that?!” He shakes his head at you, looking absolutely shocked.

           “When I asked you why you would do that, you just shrugged and said, ‘why not reach for the stars?’ Then you submitted it, stood up, walked over to me and gave me a hug before going straight to bed. I was so shocked that I just stood there for ages, trying to fathom what had just happened.”

           Yoongi sighs, glancing up at the night sky. You admire his jawline from this angle, nuzzling in a little closer to him for warmth. He notices that you didn’t bring your coat out with you, giving you a playful glare before gently rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

           “Why did you tell me that?”

           You can feel his shrug. “You are more capable, more special than you will ever know. I’ve always kept that in my heart, over the years. Why not reach for the stars? Jagiya…”

           Yoongi shuffles a little bit before cupping your chin and pointing toward the horizon where the sun has slipped down. The night sky is becoming more visible by the second, a few stray stars winking down at you.

           “Look.” He points at a certain spot in the sky just in time for you to see a streak of breathtaking light.

           A falling star.

           In the span of a few minutes, you’re completely speechless as the sky continues to darken and your eyes are glued heavenward. Gradually, more and more falling stars dart across the sky, taking your breath away. As they continue, you recall Young-mi’s words. The sky is coming to say hello.

           Yoongi reaches for your hand, easily enveloping it while tracing the outline of your knuckles.

           “You,” Yoongi breathes out, sending tingles down your spine. “Are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.”

           Heart thundering against your ribs, you turn to look at him only to find his eyes also trained on the heavens. He speaks the words softly, almost to himself, but you still catch them.

           “You’re a star, all the way up there…and I’m all the way down here. Maybe all I’m meant to do is admire you from afar. But for tonight, just for a moment, I’ll hold you.” His eyes slide down to meet yours, glinting with pure starlight. Cold and beautiful. Hurtling toward you, burning up in your atmosphere and leaving you wondering what would happen if you let him in.

           If it would lead to utter destruction or the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

           All words have escaped you at this moment in time, but you don’t feel the need to scramble for some sort of a response. Instead you settle for snuggling in a bit closer, allowing Yoongi to hold you a bit tighter.

           Tonight, he’ll hold you close to his chest while what will later be recorded as the most prominent meteor shower in recent history rains down above you. The dark night sky is set aflame with streaks of silver as falling stars graze the earth, sharing a sweet goodnight kiss as they hurtle through space. You marvel at the seemingly never-ending parade the night sky puts on, relishing the way Yoongi keeps your warm as he also marvels at the wonder above you.

           There’s no words that are exchanged for the entirety of the meteor shower, the only form of communication found in the patterns Yoongi traces out against the back of your hand and the way he gazes down at you from time to time. As though making sure you’re really there.

           It’s a long while before the meteor shower begins to fade, and it’s only when you hear Yoongi softly calling your name that you realized you’ve dozed off.

           “It’s over, jagiya,” he coos, brushing hair away from your eyes. “Let’s get you to the car, then you can sleep the rest of the way home.”

           Somehow you two manage to make it to the car, you yourself being much more coherent by then due to the sharp pains in your ankle. You realize that you two are some of the few people left at the beach, making you wonder when everyone else left.

           Your eyes are half-closed when Yoongi begins to drive away, your hand finding his atop the console.

           “You know you don’t need to worry about us, right?” Yoongi mumbles out, glancing over at you with a worried expression. “We’ll support whatever you decide to do. Remember what I said before? You’re the most capable person I know. You don’t need us, not really. Just…be happy.”

           You mumble out something incoherent, not completely realizing that he’s referring to the aftermath of the pact until you’re already asleep.

           The next thing you know, you’re parked in front of your apartment and Yoongi is grinning down at you from the passenger side door.

           “C’mon,” he urges, helping you out of the car. “Careful with the ankle.”

           “Mmm.”

           It takes a bit of careful maneuvering to get up the stairs to your apartment, but you manage to make it. Leaning up against the door, you fumble for your keys.

           Once you’ve found them, you hand them straight over to Yoongi. You’re far too tired to attempt unlocking your door at the moment. He laughs at your behavior, shooting you a proud gummy smile when he unlocks the door. You don’t even have to ask before he’s assisting you inside, helping you hobble to your room before turning to leave.

           “Thank you, Yoongi. For everything.”

           Yoongi smiles down at his shoes. “We’ll swing by tomorrow to check up on you if that’s ok?”

           We.

           Your stomach flips to remember that you’re over now with these dates. Now what-

           “Or just shoot me a text? I know that might be awkward if we all show up…”

           “Thank you. I’ll text you?” You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Yoongi, I…” You trail off, staring up at him from your bed as your mind and heart races. There’s just no words.

           With a soft smile, he leans down and pecks your nose. The innocent gesture has your ears turning red, which widens his grin.

           “I know.” He whispers back.

           And then he’s gone.

           And you’re left here, suddenly colder than ever.

main masterlist

the dates are DONE. please let me know your thoughts, I love hearing from you! Tomorrow I'll be opening up a poll for your top two dates, so stay tuned for that! 

alsooo stay tuned this week because I may have a lil bonus chapter for you guys 

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797  @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @delacyrose224  @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity  @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @bluehairedotakugem @hunnibxbe @kayahay @fanfictionreader05 @seokjinmoonfics @littletinyhobi @honeyhalcyon @yoontaethings @herrmionejgranger  @beepbeep11 @extraordinary_reads @vntwishlist @aussiebeachbabes​ @hitsussi @hannah2291 @alwaysasadaesthetic​ 

[venustar-r]

𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 | daisuke kambe (1/2)

daisuke kambe fluff, part 2 is smut so...

enjoy! word count: 2.8k

❝ 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩; 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞. ❞

- WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Daisuke Kambe found that mornings in her apartment were much more pleasant than those at the Kambe residency.

It was the way that the smell of food being made danced through the ajar door and into the bedroom, tempting his nose with the aroma of coffee and breakfast. The kitchen at his house was sealed away shut by large wooden doors and unpractically far so that he wouldn't ever have a chance of smelling food being made until it was on a plate served in front of him.

It was the way the sun swam into the room, resting comfortably on his bare back as he snuggled deeper into the pillow. In his own room, the curtains were thick and sealed closed. Unless he got up and opened them, or a maid did so, he wouldn't get to be welcomed by the morning sun as he did there.

He liked the mess of blankets on the small bed. They weren't silk or cashmere, but he enjoyed how light they felt. The soft noise they made when he shifted around, how cool they felt with the sudden change of position. With the mess of pillows, he felt he was sinking into his own fortress, the child in him enjoying how they closed around his figure. Almost like a hug. At the house, he'd have a mass of harsh pillows at his back at he slept straight up (because they insisted he sleep like that), the heavy blankets feeling oddly suffocating.

He would be awakened into a cold, dark room, his suit resting on his chair that's shadow he could make out, though it was far. He appreciated the largeness of his room, he did, but it was never ... homely. No, not at all. It was harsh and chilled. Icy, even in the middle of summer.

But his heart smiled when a soft kiss was pressed to his forehead, a cold hand (though not uncomfortable in the slightest) resting on his shoulders.

"Morning, Dai," the voice he had grown to love cooed.

His eyes fluttered open and were met by the flourish of plants that sat on her windowsill, the sun feeding them with its generous brilliance. His gaze travelled to the person above him, a blurry image of her sparkling (E/C) eyes looking down at him, "Too early,"

She let out a laugh, one that sounded like absolute heaven in his dazed state, "Breakfast's in ten minutes. Stay there for nine of those, get your beauty sleep," She teased lightly, stepping away from him. He rested for a quick second, hearing the door swing open and close slightly, though it didn't click shut. He was going out soon anyway.

It was a struggle to get up as the mattress sunk with his body weight, almost as if begging him to stay. As his eyes lazily made their way around the room, and he slowly gained consciousness, he registered the sound of cooking. The mouth-watering smell was probably the few things coaxing him out of the comfort of the bed, along with the image of a certain someone cooking said meal.

He had never wanted to stay in bed more, and at the same time, he had never had a reason to get up like the grinning face of his girlfriend and the day that lay before him.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he took the glass of water and medication and sculled it. A single drop escaped his mouth and began sliding down the side of his chin, which he wiped away with his hand, a liberty he appreciated with utmost honesty. He would've gotten yelled at if he had not done so with a handkerchief.

With a groan, he got up, his legs feeling like jelly from not having any weight on them for hours, and maybe from the night before. A slight smirk played his lips at the thought.

He looked around on the floor for his discarded t-shirt, realizing quickly that he didn't need it. He could walk around in just his black sweatpants if he wanted to and no Grandma of HEUSC or whatever could tell him off about it. Plus, he had an inkling that his item of clothing had been stolen by a certain someone.

Swinging open the door, he found that his theory was correct.

(Y/N) (L/N) stood there, back facing him, clad in his oversized plain white T-Shirt and boxers she no doubt took from the drawer in her room reserved for his clothes, cooking what smelled like eggs. Not that he minded her wearing his stuff. In complete honesty, he really liked it. A piece of him that she had, other than his heart, as cheesy as it was.

A window lay in the wall in front of her, once again having an abnormal amount of plants resting by it. Well, plants were splayed out everywhere. If a place on a shelf didn't have books or some other more practical item, it was very likely that a plant would be squeezed in there. Other than a few flowers in expensive vases, his house never had any plants. He believed they added a lively touch, the sun that lit up the room aiding them in doing so.

He tried to sneak up on her, but he knew it was a futile attempt. She'd probably heard him as soon as he stepped out of the bedroom.

Trudging over to her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, planting a small peck on the bare piece of skin where her neck met her shoulders before burrowing into said crook, closing his eyes as he felt her head turn.

"Dai...?" She mumbled, a smile present in her words.

He slowly glanced up at her, positive he looked like a lost puppy.

"I don't see how I’m supposed to cook when I have a giant teddy bear weighing me down,” She said teasingly, a single brow quirked on her gorgeous face. He was smitten. Absolutely, positively smitten.

“Well, then. Guess we can’t eat,” He said back.

She gave him a look, “We have time for all your cutesy shit later. Get off me and eat your breakfast,”

He complied. He would comply with anything she said, really. She had him wrapped around her finger.

Now at the small table in the cutesy apartment, eating (Y/N)’s heavenly food (at one point caviar and lobsters had gotten boring), he hummed happily. 

She looked at him softly, a tender smile gracing her lips. “I’m going grocery shopping today, yeah?”

He looked up from his food, eyes wide with the thought of having to lounge around all alone all day, “Like, just you?”

She frowned, “Uhm, yeah? Haru said you were, uhm, lost when you went last time.”

His mouth widened, feigned offence written all over his face, “I was not. Why are you talking to Kato anyway? All he’ll do is lie about me,”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “I used to work with Haru. But I mean, if you want to come, come. There’s nothing stopping you,”

And like a child finding out they were going to Disney, Daisuke practically inhaled his food to get ready to go out, excitedly going into (Y/N)’s room to change. 

And (Y/N), who watched him with an incredulous expression, shook her head, eating the rest of her food at a more reasonable pace, “I swear, he’s a different person entirely in bed,”

“Uhm…” Daisuke had wandered away from (Y/N), and was most definitely lost.

He had no idea how it happened, really, but this thing had caught his eye. It was colourful and looked absolutely mouth-watering, as if they had sprinkled rainbows on this piece of cookie. They were called… Pop-Tarts. Yes, that was it. 

Pop-Tarts.

Either way, the colourful blue box with the pretty looking dessert on the front cover had caught his attention, and he had chased this curiosity, and after staring at them for a good minute, he looked around to find that (Y/N) was gone.

The panic hadn’t set in until he saw a balloon to advertise some sort of chocolate milk powder, and had brought him back to an absolutely terrifying movie (Y/N) had decided to make him watch. He was alone, in this very strange world, and there was a big chance he would be kidnapped by a killer clown. 

None of this panic had actually appeared on his features, though. It was internal, as externally, he just looked like a normal young adult who was wandering around the supermarket with a box of Pop-Tarts in hand. 

Eventually, once he had wandered what was most of the supermarket (there were certain parts that were terrifying, though, because why the hell was there this giant tower of plastic bouncy balls) (it seemed like a health and safety risk, in all honesty), he finally decided to wait outside.

If he recalled correctly, he’d have to go to the cashier’s and pay for his Pop-Tarts. He was sure that was how it worked… (Y/N) had given him money, and half of him guessed it was because she had predicted something like this would happen.

It went smoothly. The cashier had asked him if he’d care to donate to the National Foundation for Cancer Research and Daisuke just put most of his money in there, saving ten dollars in case he saw any more multicoloured food somewhere. 

The cashier had given him an odd look though, thanking him profusely...

Oh well. He had thought. Now out of the one thousand dollars (Y/N) gave me, I have ten. I’d say that’s pretty good. 

He had very little knowledge of money, because why would he need to? He had an unlimited amount. 

He was now outside the supermarket, and he hadn’t much of an idea what he was going to do. He vaguely recalled hearing about children having to wait where they were when they’re lost. Should he wait? Stand by the door awkwardly?

Can you eat raw Pop-Tarts? It said to put them in a toaster, but they looked rather delicious.

Daisuke got over his panic of being lost quickly. 

Halfway through his very first Pop-Tart (slightly disappointing, but not bad), he had spotted another colourful thing. Not food, really, but most definitely bright, a plethora of hues burning his eyes.

He went over, eyeing the flower stall. He liked colourful things, yes, but (Y/N) did always like the more simple ones. He could mix the two, maybe. It was romantic to get flowers, right? For your girlfriend? 

The old man selling them watched him peculiarly. Maybe it was because Daisuke was looking at the flowers as if picking one were a life-changing decision.

In his mind, it was. He needed to get the perfect flowers for (Y/N). For various reasons.

1) He loved her.

2) He needed her not to be mad at him for getting lost.

3) He really loved her. 

So really, this was a life or death situation.

“I can wrap them in pretty fabric if you want,” The florist guy said, pulling him out of his thoughts as he scrutinized his decision. 

Daisuke met his eyes, “Can you?”

“Yeah, two more dollars though,”

Maybe if he got a plain flower and a nice pretty material to wrap it with…

“What colours do you have?” Daisuke asked, eyes sparkling at his ingenious idea.

The old man blinked, but answered nonetheless, “Erm… Red? Green? Blue-”

“Can I see the blue?” Daisuke interrupted, looking way too eager for a fabric to wrap flowers around.

“Sure…” 

And then he pulled out the most gorgeous baby blue, which Daisuke loved, and he knew (Y/N) would love.

“So which flower will it be? Or a mixed bouquet?” He had asked after guessing his customers oggled eyes were a yes.

Right, flowers.

Once again, Daisuke returned his gaze toward the many many rows of single flowers, complete bouquets, etc. analyzing and considering every option. He went back to her apartment, the plants that flourished verdant green, the nice light colours of the white tablecloth and the yellow vase with the dying tulips she needed to replace.

He couldn’t get tulips, because he wanted something different.

Maybe, say, something equally simple and elegant. 

The lilies.

Yeah, the lilies. They were perfect. A nice white, not too plain, not too basic, the yellow went nicely with the blue.

It was perfect.

And so, “The lilies, please!” With way too much enthusiasm.

But the old man got ten dollars and Daisuke got his lilies wrapped in a pastel blue doily-like fabric so everyone was happy.

Daisuke whistled merrily as he went his way back to the exit of the supermarket, when over the speakers came a voice, saying, “There is a report of a missing child. He’s uhm, quite tall, around 170cm, with dark black hair with bluish grayis eyes. He goes by the name Daisuke Kambe-”

Oh.

He was getting a few stares, given that he matched that description, but he just ignored them, going to find the lost and found child place, wherever that was in a supermarket, to find (Y/N) and give the flowers to her.

He was quite excited to give her the flowers.

That afternoon, after (Y/N) had found him, chastised him, thanked him for the flowers, they made out in the car, and they got back to her apartment, they cuddled on the couch.

On the shelf on top of the TV, where the tulips had once occupied the vase, bloomed a bouquet of white lilies, looking like it was right at home nestled along with the other plants. 

It had been a tradition for (Y/N) to read to him, and he loved every second of it. She would have her back pressed up against his chest, and his arms would wrap around her loosely, and the sun would begin its descent, enveloping the world with its golden buttery glow, and everything was alright.

She read him what he would call ‘intellectual books’. Daisuke was a bookworm. Well, not really. But he had spent countless hours wandering the empty halls of his house, and they had a library, so naturally, he’d found himself reading quite a bit. But, either way, he much preferred listening to the voice of the girl he loved as he got to hold her. 

“Why should it be essential to love rarely in order to love much?” She read softly. Camus, today. The Myth of Sisyphus. He’d generally stay away from the philosophy section of the library, but with the way she read he would’ve brought every single one and listened to each and every word.

Sometimes she’d fall asleep, and he’d get HEUSC out of a soundproof box in his pocket and do some work, because despite being away from the Kambe residency, there was always stuff to do.

He seldom returned, these days. The place where he found solace was here, in her arms, so there wasn’t much of a reason to return. 

And then dinner would roll around, and they’d cook together. Well, (Y/N) would cook and Daisuke would distract her with teasing, flirting, and anything really. Usually, she’d call him endlessly annoying and pepper his face with kisses.

“Alexa-” (He’d refuse to put HEUSC in her apartment)

“Dai, no,” (Y/N) said sternly, stirring the broth for Pho while also chopping the toppings while also boiling the noodles.

“Put More Than a Woman on,” He grinned, mischief dancing behind his eyes.

The familiar cheesy beginning of the song started playing from the speaker as Daisuke went over to (Y/N), prying the knife and wooden spoon away from her hands, replacing the cooking equipment with his hands instead, intertwining them.

She shook her head, though couldn’t help but let the smile that she had failed to suppress grow on her lips.

“You’re impossible,” She said, with an eye roll as he wrapped his arm around her waist, beginning to sway them around the kitchen to the music.

“Impossibly handsome? Kind? Amazing?” He grinned, nose oh-so-very close to touching hers.

“Impossibly idiotic,” She said, but then pecked his lips quickly, happily complying with his wish to dance, because she, like him, was smitten. 

More than a woman, More than a woman to me~

He mumbled the words in a squeaky high voice, much like Barry Gibb but, well, treacherous for the ears.

A laugh bubbled up her throat, her smile impossibly wide as they did an impossibly domestic thing after a domestic day.

And that was enough. Them with their pet plants and their kitchen dances.