#sour and sweet music video

[chowyunnafat]

BamBam’s Sour & Sweet (My thoughts) Album + MV

March 28th came and went, and suffice to say BamBam did deliver. The music video was as dramatic and symbolic as I’d hope it would be, and the visuals were top notch. I believe the music video’s premise was about how BamBam moonlights as a gentlemen/high class thief, but he’s unaware of that because the ‘sour’ side of himself is setting in due to having a dissociative identity disorder (like in the Kdrama Bad & Crazy), or he has an alter ego. So, he’s unaware of when he turns into his dark persona, and he probably runs away from it. As Carl Jung would say, BamBam’s sour side is his “shadow.”

***(The rest maybe TL;DR for some. You’ve been warned!)***

Moving on, I really did enjoy the album. I listened to it all the way through 3+ times, and I came to really like all the songs. But my all time faves were, “Feather”, “Wings”, “Take it Easy”, “Tippy Toe”, and “Ghost”.

“Let’s Dance” did grow on me in the end. But “Sour and Sweet” and “About You” are still having to take some getting used to. I don’t know why the title track isn’t quite a bop for me. But someone said it reminded them of the 80s, so it’ll eventually grow on me. It definitely doesn’t sound like “Slow Mo” or “Ribbon”, so I’m glad his singles don’t have a repetitive (similar) sound/melody. It’s a good thing.

Therefore, I believe the album speaks on different types of love. I believe it speaks on the kind of love my grandparents had. Their love was very old school, everlasting, fated, sour, and sweet. The kind of love 50s singers sing about. A Sunday kind of love.

The album represents how all love is both sour and sweet. It be self-love, familial love, romantic love, platonic love, and so on. It’s about falling in love and out of love with a person, but still staying committed to them.

In the end, I enjoyed the concept, MV, and album. But it didn’t feel like a full album. TBH, it felt like an 8 track album, but the tracks were all 2-minute previews. I’m still holding out for when 40-something year old BamBam releases those compilation albums and deluxe albums with the extended versions of all his tracks (including the instrumentals). Yet, if you like old school rnb with a dreamy twist, and you have a short attention span (or not), this album is for you. I rate it a 9/10. I genuinely did enjoy it.

(Jinyoung - Mom and Jay B - Dad made an appearance at his showcase. 🥰 🥰 🥰 I thought it was a sweet and touching moment. Although, I do wonder why it feels like Jay B hasn’t enlisted. Are they loosening up the restrictions for Kpop entertainers/celebs? Is there something I’m missing?)

The album might turn into a no-skip for me. It was easy listening.

[someawesomeamvs]

Warning: Violence, sexual imagery, potential spoilers, profane language

Title: Sweet & Sour Valentine

Editor: Kireblue

Song: 10 Things I Hate About You

Artist: Leah Kate

Anime: MM!

Category: Romance

[starliights-shining]

Prowl doesn't understand Periods, He can't wrap his processor around the fact that every month you have this one week where you are in constant pain. He'll read up on it, find book after book explaining and talking about it so he CAN fully understand what you are going through. He fears to ask you, unable to bring it up in fear of you getting snappy or having an adittude. He read every article about menstration, he'll read blog after blog post about the different flow cycles and how every women differs in their needs and wants during this time. He'll wonder if you enjoy sweets more during this time, do you prefer chocolate or ice cream? Do you want sour or sweet candy. He'll even attempt to buy you pad or tampons just so he can make sure you don't have to leave the house for them. His optics scanning the large selection of differnt brands, it'll overwhelm him. Making him feel clueless and as if his research was not good. He knows the brand you use but just doesn't know which one of the many differnt types. Heavy flow ones? Overnight ones? He'll stare, the boxes blurring in his vision. He gives up, turning around with his basket of sweets. He'll make his way home to you. Opening the door and seeing your house dark, one lamp lighting up the hallway. Your door is open and its quite, no light coming from your room. He'll call out you name, walking into your room to wake you, but instead he'll see you curled up in bed. Phone brightness down as far as you you can get it. Your eyes glassy as you watched the tiktok video on you the sad song sounding through the room. Your little sniffles can be heard. You'll turn your head, attempting to hide your tears and runny nose. He'll come to your side and ask you whats wrong. A worried expression on his face plating. You'll just show him the video. He'll sigh, servos moving to grab you and pull you to him. Your crys carry on, the sad music reminding you of what you saw. He's shushing you, rubbing you back and once your finally calmed down. He'll hand you what he calls a care package. He'll watch your entire face light up, your tear stained beaming with a smile. Your phone no longer playing the sad music, and even if it was, you weren't paying to much attention to it right now. His care package is thoughtful, carefuly planned and and maybe some last minute additions, but youre in love with it. Your eyes tear up again and your lips frown and he thinks he's upset you. A panic sets in as he watches you attempt to not cry.

"I sorry, I should have asked what kinda snacks and sweets you liked. I just thought you'd enjoy-"

"Prowllllll, I love it. It's so sweet!!"

[lilyrizzy]

Hi I love your writing!! I wish I had that talent. I was wondering if you have any thoughts of what happened next after Omega Daniel and Baby Alpha Max mated

anon you are very sweet! for you, i hope you like it

When Daniel woke up in his Singapore hotel room, every inch of him was throbbing. His head, his thighs, his fucking hole. His neck. He'd wanted to get up, to tugs the curtains the rest of the way closed so the the evil sliver of sunlight bathing his face would disapear, but he couldn't. Half lying on top of him, Max's hands were covering his skin possessively, one on his tit and one low on his stomach, fingers splayed wide.

This is still nice, a treterous part of Daniel's brain had told him.

Then, Max had looked up at him to smile, letting Daniel see the dried blood at the corner of his mouth, and he'd realised how fucked they both were.

---

"You are angry at me," Max says for the sixth time since they boarded the plane. Max's plane, his new and flashy private charter that Daniel had teased him for being a poor attempt of an omega magnet.

God.

He'd pushed Max off him in the bed earlier, shoved his clothes towards him a little harder than necessary with shaking hands and told him to go and wash his face. Standing behind him in the mirror, Daniel had inspected his own neck, and yes- They were fucked.

Fucked, fucked, fucked.

Now, he supresses a sigh, and like, the urge to jump out of the emergency exit.

"I'm not angry," he promises, also for the sixth time, not looking up from where he's organising his intently Spotify playlists. "I'm just focusing. You know I have TuPac and Lana Del Ray in the same playlist right now? A tradegy."

He wishes he could actually listen to the music, but his stupid headphones are stuffed into his bag, out of battery.

"I do not know who either of those people are." Max says, and Daniel can hear the scowl on his face without having to see it, but now he can like, smell it. Max's annoyance, the way his scent gets all sour.

Right, he let Red Bulls golden boy mate him. Christian is going to murder him, and then Helmut is going to dance on his grave.

Still, Max's statement is ridiculous enough to have him momentarily distracted from his bouncing leg, and the impending sense of doom.

"Come on Maxy," he says, looking up in dismay. TuPac is a little before Max's time, but he can't be mated to someone who doesn't know who Lana Del Ray is. It's just- No.

He bursts into an over dramatic crooning of Video Games, just to punish him a little for his ignorance.

"Daniel," Max says, and then with his serious face finally melting into softness as he starts giggling, he scootches closer to Daniel on the seat. "Daniel, I am of course trying to be serious. I did not mean to."

That has Daniel's song fading into silence.

There's a moment where Daniel realises how he could play this and probably get away without so much as one bad word from Christian, but- Even though it would be easy, it's not fair, to Max. To lay the entirety of this shit sandwich at his doorstop.

"I know," he says honestly, keeping his eyes fixed now on where he's flipping his phone over and over in his hand. "It- Look, it's not like I stopped you. It's not- It's not like I didn't want it too, maybe."

For a moment, Max says nothing as the recycled air in cabin starts to get sweeter.

"Yeah?"

When he speaks, his voice sounds tentatively hopeful, and it tugs at something in Daniel's chest.

"Yeah," he promises, and on a whim, he lifts his arm for Max to curl underneath.

---

Max follows Daniel to his apartment.

Daniel opens his mouth to ask Max if he's lost, to remind him his apartment is two floors up but-

"What movie should we watch?" Max asks, already toeing his shoes off at the door like a good boy. "Martin told me about this very funny one and I thought you would like it. I will get him to text me the name. What do you want for dinner, also?"

Daniel closes his mouth, hand coming up to rub through the curls sitting at the nape of his neck. He needs a haircut.

"You're, ah- You're staying?" He eventually asks, following Max to where he's sat himself down on the sofa and started fluffing up the pillows next to him- presumably the ones he wants Daniel to sit on.

"Of course," Max says, looking up from his handy work, pleased. Then, "on the plane, Daniel, you said you wanted this too. And you are my omega now, so of course, I want to be here with you."

Daniel nods. "Right."

Max gets up from the sofa when Daniel doesn't move any closer, comes to stand in front of Daniel, and takes both of his hands in his.

"I know I am young," he says, so earnest, and Jos Verstappen's horrified face flashes in Daniel's mind for a split second before disappearing. "Probably you think I will be bad, but I- I want to try. To be good. A good mate."

He leans in then and kisses Daniel. It's nothing like the eager, clumsy kisses of the night before, it's just- Soft. The way you'd kiss somebody if you loved them.

"I wanted you for a really long time," Max admits, like a secret against Daniel's lips when he pulls back, and Daniel supposes Max thought it was. He probably didn't realise he had a crush that could be seen from outer space, if he couldn't see Daniel had one right back.

---

"Me too, Maxy," he says and kisses him again, because this close to Max it's impossible not to. It shouldn't feel this good, shouldn't make something tight in Daniel's chest uncoil, but it does. "Alright. Alright, fuck it, lets- Let's do it."

They made their bed, it might be nice to try lying in it.

"I am coming up."

They're sat in Daniel's car, the one he drives when he's in England, parked in front of the Red Bull Factory. Typical to British weather, it's raining, big fat dropplets of water spalttering against the windshield, falling from a grey sky.

"Max, it's okay," Daniel says, leaning across the gear shift to touch his knee. "I can tell him on my own."

Daniel is the one who should have known better and told Christian no in the first place. Except-

Since Singapore, since them, they've not spent a night apart. It's been some of the best sex of Daniel's life, followed by the best nights of sleep he's had all season. Like something inside him knows he's safe. This isn't what they planned, but no matter what Christian says, neither of them are giving it up.

Lifting his other hand, Max touches proudly at the mark on Daniel's neck. He has a matching one now, on his tit because Daniel is who he is, and because Max had shyly asked for it 'over my heart.'

"I am coming with you," Max says again, firmer. He takes Daniel's hand and it makes him shiver. "Daniel, you are not on your own, not anymore."

"Alright," Daniel relents, nodding. He's still getting used to it too, having an alpha, but also just having someone who wants to take care of him. "But you can't let him chew me out, okay?"

Max's eyes narrow, his expression turning dark.

"Like he would dare," he mutters but it just makes Daniel laugh, scrubbing a hand through Max's hair roughly.

"Easy tiger," he says, because this thing is something they're both still learning but- Together. They can do it together. "I need me, my alpha and my boss all in one piece if that's alright by you."

The clouds from Max's expression cleared, a sunshine smile taking over his face.

"Your alpha?" He repeated, smugly.

"Yeah, yeah," Daniel said, opening the car door but unable to hold back his own grin. "Get in the building Verstappen, before I kick your ass up the stairs myself."

[kurooo-is-here]

hiii hello hiiiii i'm back with some more writing :3

writing for: Arven, Drayton, and Kieran

genre: selfship (x reader)

here are my general character interpretations of these three!

Arven:

loyal to a fault, because he's got abandonment issues. he never had anyone there for him besides his mabostiff, so he wants to be there for you.

his love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service. he'd visit you even if you were on the other side of the world.

he's an early bird. wakes up fairly early in the morning (~6 AM to 7 AM) to do meal preps and feed mabostiff. this comes with its perks though! you get to hear his deep morning voice and see his hair messy. :>

he secretly loves stargazing. to him, there's nothing better than sitting under the stars, hearing the outdoor ambience of the night.

he's super caring towards his pokemon! he feeds them on time and gives them extra love and treats.

speaking of food, he's got tons of recipes to share. he can make a KILLER mac and cheese. also, he absolutely wears aprons that have cute pokemon designs on them.

unironically describes his mood with food flavors. says he's feeling "sour" when he's upset, or "sweet" when he's excited.

he's like.... a puppy..,, he'll follow you anywhere and guard you when others try to steal you away..... (can you tell he's my favorite)

Drayton:

lowkey possessive. not just of you, but of things he's attached to. everything from his pokemon to the comfortable school life he's grown so fond of. he wouldnt trade them for the world.

his love languages are quality time and physical touch. he's a guy who loves cuddling and hanging out. he'd probably fall asleep with you while watching an hour-long youtube video about obscure 3ds game lore.

can't cook for shit!! he will literally just buy instant noodles and microwaveable meals because its easy and convenient LMAO

he doesn't like going out since he's lazy, but he's absolutely down to go shopping if its for snacks. he knows all the best ones.

he loves to battle! partly because he likes showing off how strong he is, but also because he thinks of it as a way to destress.

you'd think for being so lazy he wouldn't practice self-care, and this is mostly true-- but he definitely takes good care of his pokemon. that duraldon he traded you? make sure to keep it clean, it likes being polished every now and then. his flygon? it loves spicy foods. oh, and make sure to trim the scales on his dragonite every week. it gets a little moody otherwise.

he's the king of "this image/video is really funny but why do you have so many of them" over texting. he has a whole stash of silly images.

Kieran:

he gets anxious pretty easily, but he's usually more relaxed around you. he's also not used to receiving compliments, and will absolutely get shy and embarassed if you compliment him.

his love languages are words of affirmation and giving gifts! he gifted you an applin that one time, but he also shares his candy with you. what a sweetheart 🥺

speaking of sweets, he likes hard candies and chocolate! his fav chocolate is white chocolate. (conversely, carmine likes dark chocolate the most.)

gets both nervous and excited when he battles you. he hopes to win, but he also just wants to have fun!

he likes to listen to music when he needs to concentrate. it's good background noise, and more importantly, he is absolutely bopping his head to those tunes.

he likes alternative and indie rock music, plus edm and lofi. his playlist may or may not have a few "edgier" songs too, like "Gasoline" by Halsey and "Sarcasm" by Get Scared.

he absolutely had a nightcore phase.

regarding cooking, he prefers to get food from restaurants rather than cooking at home. he's not super confident in his cooking skills, but he isn't the worst at it either. (looking at you, drayton...)

he doesn't really understand internet culture since he doesn't have a phone. you might have to teach him about it yourself out of pity, because he gets so confused when people start saying they're getting "rizzed up" or something...

bro is absolutely autism-coded (speaking as someone with autism) and he hyperfixates sooo easily. he'll get obsessed with something for weeks and infodump to you constantly, and he definitely loses sleep over his interests. he's so shy about doing this with anyone else, so please lend an ear when you can. 🥹

[dollieguts1010]

KICKINCHICKEN HEADCANONS

• He's very competitive at sports (he always loses to Hoppy)

(he's competitive but not mean)

• He's 12 years old

• His best friend's are Bubba Bubbaphant and Hoppy Hopscotch

• His favorite food is pizza

• His pronouns are He/Him/His

• He's pansexual but he's in the closet (the closet is made out of glass and the doors are wide open)

• The only ones that doesn't know that he's pansexual is his parents (if they did know they would be very supportive)

• He's MADLY in love with Hoppy

• He was born with a condition that caused his feathers to stay permanently yellow. Because of that, he looks much younger than the rest of his family

• HATES looking weak in front his friends (especially Hoppy)

• He doesn't like to tell people when he's scared so, if he tells does you that, then that means he REALLY must trust you

• He's surprisingly good at cooking/baking and every once in awhile if he's in a good mood, he will bring some kind of sweet treat

• Is a soda addict

• He's great at voice impressions

• He will always have a random pack of bubblegum on him

His favorite sports are basketball, football, and soccer

• He respect Dogday as a friend and leader however, he does think that Dogday is a bit naive when it comes to trusting strangers

• He likes mudwrestling with Picky and Hoppy

• He likes to do art and crafts with Crafty and likes being her model for her artwork

• He likes sour candy

• He's a heavy sleeper

• He likes to make a makeshift nest out of blankets and pillows

• The only kind of reading he likes is reading comic books

• When he gets stress out he starts ripping his feathers out

• He gets very creeped out by Catnap

• Has a healthy relationship with his parents

• He idolizes his father and wants to be like him when he gets older

• He likes to go surfing with his father

• Randy (Kickin's father) loves to tease Kickin due to the fact that he knows that Kickin is in love with Hoppy. Like if Randy sees Kickin admiring Hoppy from the distance he'll just say something like "Hey, what'cha doing buddy? Are you checking out your GIRLFRIEND!!!!" then Kickin will get embarrassed and just yell at his dad "Dad! C'mon! what's wrong with you?!"

• His parents and Hoppy's parents have known each other for a very long time

• He has a great relationship with Holly and Henry (Hoppy's parents)

• Is a video game lover

• Likes to wrestle with Dogday

• He often armwrestles with Hoppy or Bubba (he always loses)

• He sees Dogday as his brother

• Sometimes he'll just randomly go to Dogday's house and spend the night there for no reason

• Likes playing fetch with Dogday

• Him and Dogday often play basketball together

• He likes it when the girls puts makeup on him and dolls him up, he likes feeling like a femqueen 😌💅✨

• From time to time, he likes picking flowers and gardening with his mother

• Likes stargazing with Hoppy

• He'll be on the phone with Hoppy for HOURS

• He often listens to 80's music

• He loves action and comedy movies

• During molting season Kickin gets very insecure about his looks and thinks he looks ugly due to his lack of feathers so he hides in his house until it's over

• Only Hoppy is allowed to see him during molting season

• He has a secret sketchbook that he hides under his mattress that is just COVERED in doodles of Hoppy with tiny pink and red hearts over the pages

• When ever he wants to draw on his secret sketchbook, his always makes sure he's home alone first then, he'll lock himself in his bedroom then hide underneath his bed

• Has a big potty mouth and if he gets hurt or something really happens, all hell brakes loose

• He makes his own at-home action movies

• He's fluent in Spanish

• He plays the drums and guitar

• Is a surprisingly good singer

• Is a great dancer

• If someone calls him out when he's crying he'll just say "I'm not crying you are!" or "I have dust in my eye!"

• Will put himself in danger so he can protect his friends

• Picks out the coolest looking rocks that he can find at the beach and gives them to his friends or keeps them

• Pulls harmless pranks with Hoppy

• Is a pro at skating/surfing

• Owns 10 different kinds of skateboards and owns 5 different kinds of rollerblades

• Want to own a motorcycle when he gets older

• Likes to go to the beach, to collect shells, pretty rocks, go swimming and surfing

• Gives little nicknames to his friends

• Loves roadtrips and always calls shotgun for the front seat

• Loves messing with Bubba any chance he gets

• He often calls Bubba "nerd or "brainiac"

• He often calls Hoppy "Hops" or "Hopscotch"

• Firework enjoyer

• Is money smart not book smart

• Knows when he goes too far

• Sometimes says the wrong thing at the wrong time

• Sometime has the most RANDOM BEEF with Crafty for no reason

• Gossip with the girlies

• Likes racing Hoppy (he always loses)

• Once accidentally broke Hoppy's leg while playing soccer

(somebody pls understand the reference)

• Likes and trys to make others feeling better about themselves when they're down in the dumps

• Is the best at coming up with witty comeback

• Him and Hoppy often have roasting sessions that lasts at least an 35 minutes (the others just sit back relax and enjoy the free show)

• Takes at least 15 minutes when he's combing his "hair" (feathers)

• He has a whole box of hair products

• Will defense his friends in a physical or verbal fight

• He'll often come home all bruised and beat up, because he was defending his friends or defending someone who couldn't defend themselves from mean older kids (his parents get so scared every time he comes home all beaten up)

(can someone draw a comic of this? pls🙏)

• He's favorite color is reddish orange

• Is a junk food lover

• Hates broccoli

• Has a plushie that he vents too

• Has a baby sister named CeeCee and is very protective of her (he's not afraid to throw hands with anyone who tries to mess with her)

• Sometimes his parents will find him resting in CeeCee's nest while cuddling her (they think it's so cute)

• May act all cool, brave, and confident but he's actually a bit insecure about himself (he's really good at hiding it)

• If you dare him to do something he WILL do it (especially if it involves money)

• Dance Rush and DDR enjoyer

• Can NOT handle spicy food! He will cry and throw up if he eats spicy food

• Has lots of karaoke nights with his friends

• Has been childhood friends with Hoppy since they were 6 years old

• Has known Dogday since he was baby chick

• He has a great relationship with Dawn (Dogday's mother) and sees her as he's second mother

• Mentally freaks out if he sees somebody eating chicken

• He will throw up if he accidentally eats chicken

• He used to have a crush on Bubba when he was younger

• He also had a small crush on Crafty for a while

• He makes little shell bracelets and necklaces as gifts!

• Sometimes he gets worried that he's not "manly enough"

• He clucks when he laughs

• He also clucks when he sneezes

• When he's shocked or startled he will lose his feathers

• Him and Dogday often go bowling together

• Was the first one to join the Smiling Critters

• His star necklace was gifted to him by Dogday

• Has the most immature humor in the group

(if he hears something that sounds slightly dirty, he'll just start laughing)

• He once broke his arm while riding a skateboard

• Him and his family live in a giant treehouse that's on the beach

That's all for now!

*I will add more later!*

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you and jungkook go on a spontaneous drive.

> fluff / wc: 2.7k

> warnings: sexual innuendo, fake gagging, mentions of throwing up, fish ?

note: i struggle with writer’s block for days then come up with scenes like this i can’t stand myself 😭 like the last part . . . iykyk.

—

jungkook watches the shotgun seat pushed all the way back, where your curled up vessel is lying, wrapped in a fleece blanket. he suggested that the backseat may be more comfortable, but you said that he’d be too far away and he might feel lonely with an empty space beside him.

your nose scrunches at the strong smell of gas, and you can almost taste it on your tongue despite being unconscious. while he waits for his car to reach full tank, he unbuckles his seatbelt to steal a kiss from your lips. there is the faint smell and taste of your watermelon lip balm that lingers in the midst of the gas station. sweet. when you invade his senses. sweet, with a pinch of an emotion he can only name as love.

it is five in the morning, and you stay asleep as the sun slowly, slowly rises in its sweeps of pink and red clouds. it was his idea after all, to drive with no destination in mind at this time of the day. partly because he slept thirteen hours the day prior and he found it impossible to sleep again, mostly because he always wants to go on adventures with you. albeit, you stay asleep for almost the entire time.

when he woke you up an hour ago just to ask ‘want to go on a drive and get lost?’ he fully expected you to glare at him and pass out back to sleep. but instead, you almost crawled your way to the bathroom, washed your face and brushed your teeth, then announced that you were ready to go. he had to drag you back to the bedroom so he could clothe you.

“you weren’t about to get out of the house naked.” he scolded you, sounding annoyed as he slipped on your shorts.

“but i’m not.” you fought back quietly, head hanging low as you tried your best to stay awake.

he gritted his teeth. “your underwear barely covers anything.

“i can be naked if i want to. it’s just the car.”

jungkook sighed, knowing well that you like showing skin, even when nobody is watching. random fact: you sleep topless when you’re in a sour mood. for some scientific reason unknown to him, you do wake up bright and sunny the next morning.

“you never know what the day may bring. most likely, we’ll eat outside.”

“right. okay. because you’ll want to eat me instead.” you giggled incoherently, thoughts fuzzy around the egdes. you wrapped your arms around his neck, peppering the side of his face with kisses.

“fuck- yeah, that too.” he muttered under his breath as he picked you up to bring you to the car, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way out. only then, it registered to you that you left your phone on the bed. but you were too sleepy to alert your boyfriend, so you tightened your thighs around his waist and closed your eyes again.

his tongue unconsciously plays with his lip ring, zoning out as he thinks about you. god forbid, he truly doesn’t know what he did to deserve you in his life. just how much do you love him for you to agree to this no matter how tired and sleepy you are?

you might constantly bicker, but it’s always full of love and playfulness. no matter how ridiculous you think of each other because of certain quirks or interests, you trust him and he trusts you. cute, he whispers to himself before giving you one last tender kiss on the temple.

he rolls up the window and puts his seatbelt back on, grooving to the soft music from the speakers as he drives further away from his house to escape with his refuge.

—

you wake up three hours later, unmoving from your position. except you have jungkook’s phone in your hands, taking a video of the blue morning sky with baby powder by jenevieve plays in the background.

“post it on my ig story.” he grins, an elbow casually leaning by the window as his fingers play with his lip ring again. the man hasn’t left that thing alone since he got it. you had to constantly slap his hand away when it was still fresh so it wouldn’t get infected.

you do as he says without a word, still feeling groggy from sleep. you leave his phone over your tummy, and you entertain yourself with the moving sceneries outside the window. you don’t know where the hell you are, and you marvel at the familiar yet unfamiliar.

and then you’re holding hands with jungkook over the gear stick. even though this isn’t the first time that he grabbed your hand for this romantic gesture, your heart skips a beat at the thought that he still wants you as close as possible after all this time.

it’s a choice you both make, staying by each other’s side every day. until the every day became years.

he catches you staring at your tangled hands, the sunlight shining on his face makes his brown eyes a few shades lighter. he brings your hand up to press his lips on your skin before holding the gear stick with you again.

he briefly looks at you through the side mirror. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” you bite back the smiling forming on your lips, staring out the window again.

a dark tunnel. trees. trees. houses. little kids running. lavender. a woman opening an umbrella. you hear the music, but the words don’t register in your brain. more trees. a blue roof. brown birds. the clouds forming a light bulb. cosmos blooming near a stream. a cow still sleeping soundly under the sun. a fruit truck parked on the sidewalk. fallen leaves travelling aimlessly, fueled by the gentle wind. trees. tall and mighty. branches forming clouds. fruits as glistening christmas balls. how glorious. you want to be a tree.

as the car rolls through a speed bump, an idea pops in your head.

you dramatically gag, hand breaking away from jungkook to cover your mouth.

“babe, you okay?” he asks in concern, looking between you and the road back and forth.

“i feel nauseous. i-i can’t hold it.” you try your best sound panicked and distressed, sitting up to open the compartment infront of your seat. you quickly find an empty red plastic bag, and you bury your face in it.

“fuck- no, baby, hold on. not here.” he starts panicking too, nimble hands expertly parking the car beside the road.

you smile unknowingly, holding back your laughter and forcing your body to be stiff. jungkook has a very sensitive sense of smell, part reason why he is evidently hygienic. although you are the person he loves most in the world, there is no way in hell he won’t get annoyed with you throwing up in his car.

he goes around to fetch you, guiding you into walking by the bushes. you fake another gag with your urgent steps, still secretly laughing inside the bag.

“here, no one will see you.” he takes away the plastic bag and your facial muscles swiftly display a pained expression.

“wait, let me-” he holds back your hair, making sure there are no stray strands covering your face. his other hand rubs your back comfortingly, encouraging you to empty your stomach of your last meal. “go on, baby. so you’ll feel better. i have emergency clothes and toothbrush in the car so we can-”

you burst into fits of laughter, arms snaking around your boyfriend’s waist. “sorry. sorry. i’m joking! i just wanted to see what you’d do.”

he grunts in defeat, hands falling by his sides. “you really like to keep me on my toes, huh, baby?”

“yeah. just incase you were getting sleepy behind the wheel.” you giggle, kissing the corner of his lips. “wanna go to the beach?”

he only hears the crashing waves once you mention the beach. when he cranes his head to the back, he is greeted by the sea. one of the pros of having a day off on a weekday is that there are virtually less people in places that usually attracts them. it looks peaceful, and it almost makes him want to cry.

—

jungkook rents a cottage standing near the shore. he also had no choice but to buy the overpriced towels the owner sales-talked him into getting. he places them on top of the table before running back to his car on the cramped parking lot to get his sunscreen.

you stare out into the sea as you wait. the distinct smell of the saltwater and the sound of the waves and the birds melt away your weariness and worries.

the waters stretch out beyond your eyes could reach. there is the hyperawareness that there is another world deep under the blue, all the way down to the eerie trenches. and what brings a human the most thrill if not taking a dip into the great unknown?

you hum along to a random tune as you squirt sunscreen along your arms and legs, passing along the tube of sunscreen to your boyfriend before spreading the pearly white liquid on your skin. jungkook would go shirtless, except there’s not much sunscreen left to cover his entire upper body. either way, he decides he needs a little more of it for his shoulders, and he winces with a curse when too much sunscreen gets squeezed out from the tiny hole.

“baby, come here.” he coaxes you to move closer. you obey, and he scoops up some of the white magic from his tattooed shoulder. he leaves dots from your face to your neck, and then he blends them on your skin to protect it from the harsh sun.

“sticky.” you complain with a pout, rocking your feet back and forth in the air. the seat is too high that jungkook had to pick you up by the waist because you kept on slipping down when you tried to jump for it.

“skin cancer is real!” he chides for the nth time today, stretching your cheek with the tips of his fingers.

“never said it was fake.” you lightly slap his hand away with a grumble.

the next second, you’re barefoot sprinting towards the sea. the air parts as you power through, and it coalesce to fill up the spaces where your body has been. “the loser will do the dishes for the next two months!” you scream with a triumphant laugh.

“yah! this isn’t fucking fair!” he exclaims in disbelief, long limbs running as fast as they can, soles burning on the sand. but he is too late. once the saltwater soaks your feet, he has lost.

you cover your mouth in shock. you? defeating jungkook in a physical game? i mean, yes, there was a handicap. that’s because you fully expected to lose. anyhow, you are the one who does the dishes at home, so it doesn’t really matter whether you win or not.

you and jungkook reconcile where the water reaches your waist, and you smile at him teasingly. he frowns in response.

“i’m really happy that i won, so i’ll just do the dishes. don’t be sad!” you hold his face in your hands, pressing a kiss on his lips. he puckers them gently, and he chases you again when you make an attempt to pull away. he gives you two more light pecks.

you giggle at his lack of inhibition, turning your cheek so his lips land on your skin.

“i’ll do the dishes for two weeks instead. i have my pride.”

“okay. if that’s what you wa-” you get cut off when he splashes water on your face, the nostalgic yet unpleasant taste spreading on your tastebuds. drops of water drip down your hair and your face. you open your eyes with your mouth still slightly open, looking at him in shock.

and then it’s his turn to get wet. his childish joy gets dissolved when his whole body ends up submerged underwater. he stands back up, wiping his face with his hands as he coughs.

you watch him with a hand over your mouth, laughing silently.

“you’re really stepping up your game today, baby. what was in those fortune cookies from last night, huh?” he lightly pinches the sides of your waist with a mischievous smirk, refusing to admit defeat.

you squeal at the tickles that make your knees buckle, gripping his wrists tightly. but he doesn’t allow you mercy. he continues tickling your sides until you slip underwater, and you pinch your nose immediately because you’ve never learned how to properly hold your breath. should’ve paid for those swimming lessons instead of doll houses.

when you rise back up for oxygen, you find jungkook clapping his hands with his head thrown back, laughing out loud. “y-your face- your face. you should’ve seen it!”

“and when i catch you!” you scream, reaching for him but he swiftly dives into the water and swims away to where your feet can no longer touch the floor. you wallow in your fear of deep waters, folding your knees until the cold water reaches your neck.

with a grimace, you watch the water splash around as your boyfriend shows off his practiced strokes. “multi-talented bastard.”

—

you sit near the shore, the waves only reaching your exposed thighs. you patted yourself dry so you could grab jungkook’s phone in the car before you settled here, taking pictures of the beach and the sky. and the baby crab that stumbled as it ran across the rocky sand. thank god for water-resistant technology, you’re not too afraid to drop it.

your attention gets torn away from the screen when jungkook calls out your name. your head tilts to the side to watch him walk towards you, and your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets at the sight of him holding up a silver fish by its tail, long and thick in width. your thumb taps at the shutter with every step he takes, wanting to capture this moment to review the subject of your bewilderment later on. what the fuck goes on in your boyfriend’s mind?

he points at it, meeting you with a wide-eyed gaze as if he is also confused with himself.

you scramble to stand up. the fish increasingly looks intimidating as it draws nearer and nearer. “wait- shit- get it away from me! where did you even get that?!”

“back there.” he looks back at the sea, swinging the fish casually using his strong, inked hand. you flinch in surprise, leaning back to avoid getting slapped. “i was swimming and i felt something touch my hand.”

“and you brought it here because?” you ask him quizzically, raising your eyebrows as you gaze at the fish warily.

“you said you’re hungry. you wanna eat it?” he puts the fish in the middle of his chest as a make-shift necktie, his face painted with a beam of amusement.

you blink at him nonchalantly, snapping another picture like he wordlessly asked you to. “what even is it?”

he shrugs, catching the other end of the fish to inspect it in full scale. “i have no idea.”

“then just put it back and let’s grab fast food or something. i saw the people beside our cottage eating chicken and burger.”

he juts out his bottom lip, purposely drooping his eyes to make himself look sad. look, this tactic will definitely work like a charm at any other day. but only when he’s not cradling a damn fish like a baby.

“babe, it’s a relief to know that you can catch fish with your bare hands if we ever get stranded on an island. but that looks scary.”

“what do you mean? it’s cute!” he interjects, determined to defend his sea creature.

you swallow nervously when he carefully bends the fish, forming a big heart.

“see?”

that . . . that horrifying thing is just not cute.

“jeon jungkook, put it back or i’ll drown you!”

he smiles widely in jest, soaked strands of hair falling infront of his eyes like dominoes. your eyes flicker at his lip ring that twinkles under the blinding sunlight.

“but won’t you take a picture of us first?”

—

taglist! @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @rkie @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @ameliejeannelaurent @takochelle @the1921-monsters @investedreader @seagulljk @yeow6n @yoonqkiss @hopeworldjimin @lllucere @unnatae @zqynmlk + send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, smut, group play, mmf, oral (f & m receiving), fingering (v), p in v, dirty talk, praise kink

chapter five: bejeweled (15k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #16.

And when I meet the band

They ask "Do you have a man?"

I can still say "I don't remember"

Bejeweled — Taylor Swift

Differences Between Butterflies and Moths

July 11th, 2019 — Australian Butterfly Sanctuary

Although both of these fluttering insects come under the classification Lepidoptera, they possess many differences that classify them as a butterfly or a moth.

Wing Position: One of the most obvious differences between butterflies and moths is their resting wing position. Moths rest with their wings open, whereas butterflies tend to rest with their wings closed. However, many butterflies "sun bake" with their wings open. This allows them to attract more sunlight.

Nocturnal vs. Diurnal: Butterflies are active during the day (diurnal), whereas moths are active at night (nocturnal).

Pupae: In the metamorphism from caterpillar to butterfly, caterpillars spin a pupa consisting of hardened protein. On the other hand, moth caterpillars form a soft silk pupa, which is known as a cocoon.

General Appearance: Widely speaking, moths tend to be stockier and have furry bodies, whereas butterflies are smooth and lean.

Colour: In general, moths tend to be duller and less vibrant in colour, with less intricate and striking patterns. Although this is a generalised rule, some moths, such as the Madagascan Sunset Moth are incredibly striking.

–

Frizzy curls, blonde waves, floppy bangs. Citrus, smoke, and a puff of expensive perfume. Blue and hazel and brown. Sighs or moans, breathy or hoarse, stifled in throats or muffled against skin. Smooth— from one to the other and back again. Easy, leisurely exchanges. As near to effortless as it could be.

In the weeks following your first time with penetrative sex, group play has become open and fluid. Chrissy with Steve, you with Eddie, you with Steve, Chrissy with Eddie— you rotate positions and shift combinations of people with ease. It seems almost natural to feel Chrissy's lips on your neck while you kiss Steve, to wrap your fingers around Eddie's length as he licks Chrissy. You eagerly anticipate Friday nights, letting the promise of mutual pleasure carry you through your long work days at the pediatrician's office. 

And you hadn't felt the sour bite of jealousy since that first time, either. You suppose you must be getting used to seeing Steve having sex with Chrissy, which is quite a relief. You didn't want to have to deal with those feelings escalating, dreading how it would impact your friendship with her and your group sex arrangement.

You and Chrissy have fallen into an easy rhythm when playing with your men. Sometimes you'll begin by cuddling with each other, giggling over something stupid one of them has said or a Tiktok video she'd sent you earlier that day. Sometimes you'll kiss Steve until you feel the brush of her waves against your cheek, and then you'll happily relinquish his mouth to find a different pair of plush lips instead. Sometimes you'll blow them, sucking Eddie's thick length for as long as you feel like until you pop off him to taste your boyfriend instead, letting Chrissy's lips take your place. Or you and Chrissy will work one of them together, tongues brushing as you lick-lick-lick at their heads until their cum paints two pairs of flushed lips, or perhaps your breasts when Chrissy pushes them together with dainty fingers. 

Sometimes you'll kiss her, tasting her sweet mouth as you lay side-by-side with Eddie and Steve's faces buried between your legs. You'll swallow her moans, and she'll swallow yours, eyes hazy and skin damp as your boyfriends press their cocks inside you, happy to have someone's mouth on yours while you're being fucked. You don't directly pleasure one another, and neither do Steve and Eddie pleasure each other— it's a mutually agreed upon though unspoken boundary that none of you feel the need to cross. But you delight in Chrissy's pleasure and she in yours. And once, when she'd been splayed across your bed, waves hanging off the edge as Steve fed his cock into her mouth upside down and Eddie pumped his fingers inside her, you'd gone so far as to suck on her pert nipples, aroused by the sight of her being filled. She'd squirmed until she came, so quickly that time, keening around Steve's length. You hadn't minded because you knew she'd do the same; in fact, she'd seemed eager when Steve asked if you wanted to take her place afterward. But you'd never given an upside-down blowjob before, and it seemed incredibly intimidating after watching her. Plus, with everyone's attention on you, you knew you'd both be pressured to cum and probably unable to do so. You hadn't faked an orgasm since that one time with Eddie, and you didn't want to do it ever again. If it happened, it happened, and that would be great, but you just… didn't want to falsify your pleasure anymore. It was a small miracle that Steve hadn't noticed and confronted you about it, but you weren't going to question your luck.

This Friday night is a temperate evening in late April. The lingering bite of winter has passed, and your windows are thrown open, letting a mild breeze tickle your damp skin as Steve's tongue dips softly into your mouth. The ambient sounds of the city below— the low rush of vehicles, a distant horn, the echo of laughter and shouts from people mosying by— mix with the sound of Chrissy's airy moans as she straddles Eddie's cock, rocking on him, sharp hips cradled by his hands. Indirectly, you can feel her moving through the rhythmic push of Eddie's body as he lays flat on the bed. You can feel it because his nose is repeatedly nudging against your clit. You pull from Steve's mouth to lick your palm, returning to smoothly stroking his length, humming as Eddie's hot tongue dips inside you while you sit on his face.

Before group play, you'd been very self-conscious about this position despite Steve's enthusiastic propositions over the years. You'd been overly concerned with the size of your thighs, worried you would smother him with your weight. And despite his assurances that he'd be fine, that he wanted you to be on top of him, you couldn't get over your insecurity enough to enjoy it the few times you'd relented. But, slowly, you were becoming more comfortable with your body and with yourself. You'd become less hesitant to try something new, despite still being nowhere near as uninhibited as Chrissy is. Though you don't especially love the way she talks dirty, you do admire that she has the confidence to do it, and you find yourself sometimes trying to emulate her, if not in words, then at least in spirit. The first step to that, you'd decided, is to not automatically say no to positions you'd previously shied from.

And, oh, are you glad you hadn't said no to this. It's quite delicious to experience all of these sensations at once: Steve's long hard cock in your hand, slick with your spit; his full lips on yours, all minty and crisp; and Eddie's eager mouth on your pussy, broad tongue working you from clit to entrance. Couple that with the knowledge of the others' pleasure— the twitching of Steve's hips into your grip, the filthy murmuring of Chrissy behind you, the rumble of Eddie's groan against your slick flesh— and all the unrelenting stimuli combine until your belly begins to tighten, cinders sparking to flame. You moan against Steve's lips as Eddie tilts his chin, relishing the rasp of his stubble as it contrasts with the slick fire of his tongue now lapping at your clit. Your hand moves faster on the cock in your grasp, and Steve's breath deepens as your other hand joins the first, twisting as he thrusts forward into your strokes. Instinctually, without much thought, you begin to circle your hips, lightly grinding your pussy against Eddie's mouth. You whimper as Steve grasps your breasts, kneading them while you chase that building feeling inside you; your breath quickens with excitement and anticipation when Eddie moans, the sound hoarse and muffled into your wet heat, vibrations increasing your desire. "Mmm," you hum, a little crease forming in your brow as your hands drag along Steve's cock, pleasure running thick and sticky through your veins. It buzzes like alcohol, but headier, sweeter; not yet enough to get you to your pinnacle, but enough to make you feel really fucking good.

The sudden rasp of a calloused hand on your hip has your breath catching; you feel it snake up your side, dragging a slow trail of fire up your damp skin. The tenderness of the touch, the way it supports you as you rock your hips— instantly, the tension in your belly increases, and you start to move faster. Eddie moans again, fingers tightening against your waist, and you know that it's because he can feel you growing more excited. His eagerness fuels yours, and soon you're panting, lips pulling from Steve's as you focus on the sensation of Eddie's mouth on you. When you feel Steve's lips at your jaw, you realize that your grip has slackened, that your strokes have grown slower; you reengage your efforts, working Steve faster until you feel Eddie wiggle his face underneath you, lips searching for and then finding your clit.

You whimper as pleasure flares when Eddie sucks gently on your clit, breath shuddering as his fingers rasp tenderly over your waist, beginning to drag back down your side. Struck with worry that his touch might leave you, one hand leaves Steve to reach for him. You find his hand quickly, lightly caressing those limber fingers and ruddy knuckles in a silent plea for them to stay. You sigh as Eddie weaves his fingers with yours, his grip snug and steady as your hands press against your waist. You're burning with pleasure, muscles tightening, but as you join hands, you feel something else wash over you. The feeling is lush and verdant, blooming from that point of contact, but you aren't quite sure what it is.

"Hey," Steve murmurs, and your eyes open, darting over his face almost with surprise. He kisses you, warm and gentle, and your lashes flutter as he draws away. "Can we switch positions?"

"Really?" you ask, voice soft, neutral despite the brief flash of disappointment you feel. Unconsciously, your fingers tighten around Eddie's.

"Yeah," Steve replies, and you register the heat in his stare, the slight roughness to his voice from being worked up. "Yeah, baby, I can't wait anymore. I need to be inside you." 

Despite your brief disappointment, you pulse as Steve voices his desire for you. "Okay, babe," you reply, kissing him before you lift one leg over to kneel to the side of Eddie's head. When you glance down at his face, you're struck hard by the sight of him: dark curls splayed across your duvet; brown eyes heavy-lidded and hazy, dark with desire; inked chest rising and falling as he pants, still rocked slightly by Chrissy's body; and, most of all, Eddie's lips, swollen and pink and glistening, chin wet from the slick of your pussy. 

The sight is so erotic that you can't help but duck to him immediately, cupping his jaw as you capture those lips in a hungry kiss.

Eddie moans quietly into your mouth as you descend on him, and he tastes like smoke and spice and salty musk from the flavor of you on his lips. Your tongues brush lightly at first, but the wet heat of Eddie's mouth has you needing more almost instantly. You deepen the kiss, lips smacking, tongue seeking; one of Eddie's hands finds your jaw and the other cradles the nape of your neck as he kisses you harder, pressing up into you, also wanting more. You feel a light touch on the crown of your head, and it's not Eddie; you realize it must be Steve, stroking your hair as you and Eddie devour each other.

That slight rhythmic rocking of Eddie's body ceases; you hear a light huff and draw back from Eddie, eyes gazing into his for a moment until you glance down his body to see Chrissy sitting motionless on his lap, bow lips pursed, blue eyes clouded with a hint of petulance. 

Steve's hand leaves your head. "Don't worry, honey," he soothes her, full lips crooked with a grin. "I'll take care of you, too."

Through your weeks of playing together, you'd noticed that Chrissy has a quirk: despite her typically bubbly nature, she seems to need at least one person paying attention to her at all times. It doesn't seem to matter whether that be you, Steve, or Eddie. As long as at least one of you is watching, touching, talking to, or pleasuring her— in the case of the guys— she is full of powdery-soft sweetness, bright eyes, and eager smiles. But if Chrissy feels that she's being overlooked, she'll make her displeasure known, usually by pouting or sulking until someone coaxes her back into contentment. Or, occasionally, she'll insert herself into the action to ensure she gets the attention she wants. Still, she never gets huffy or snappy, and she's otherwise so kind that it's easy to accept this quirk of hers. 

Plus, the way you're rearranging right now… it's pretty ideal.

You find yourself arranged upon two pillows, one under your head and one under your butt. You glance past the valley of your breasts and soft stomach to see Steve kneeling between your spread legs; you widen them as he nudges closer, your calf hooking behind Chrissy as she kisses him. Her fingers play in the hair on Steve's chest as he guides his cock to your entrance. You hear Chrissy suck in a quick breath as Steve's hand disappears from your view, presumably to finger her while he fucks you. 

It requires flexibility, deftness, and concentration, but Steve has already proven himself worthy of the task. He clearly takes pride in pleasing you both simultaneously, showing off his skills to you and Chrissy— and Eddie, to an extent, you suppose. You know Steve loves the way Chrissy praises him over his sexual prowess as much as he loves her talking dirty to him, and his resulting effort certainly benefits both of you.

Your eyes are drawn to pale thighs dusted with sparse hair as Eddie kneels beside your head, and they drag over the length of his thick cock as it bobs sideways over your face, skin slick and deeply, appealingly pink at the tip. As you feel one of Steve's hands grip your thigh and the warm press of his length against your entrance, your eyes flick to warm brown darkened to amber as Eddie stares down at you. This specific position is one you haven't tried yet, but you are nearly squirming with your desire to; your pussy is wet and throbbing, sensitive from Eddie's eager licking and the anticipation of Steve fucking you while you lavish Eddie's cock with your mouth.

You stick out your tongue, hips shifting as Eddie nudges closer to you. You reach up, fingers wrapping lightly around his base to keep him steady. And then, you lick a thick stripe up the underside of Eddie's cock as Steve presses inside you.

You moan into that first delicious stretch, chin tipping up, tongue wet and pink and supple as it drags across Eddie's length while Steve's long cock sinks deep into your pussy. You hear Steve groan as you envelop him, and Chrissy hums, moaning breathily as he starts to work you both. Steve begins to set an even rhythm— not slow, but not too fast or hard, just enough to jostle you slightly as you take Eddie into your mouth. He's hot as you lave him with your tongue, and you register a musky taste as Chrissy says cheekily, "Can you taste me on his cock?" 

"Mmm," you hum absently, eyes locked on Eddie's face framed by dark wild curls as those plush lips part in a slight groan; you relish his reaction as your sound vibrates against his sensitive head. You bob to take him deeper, sucking slightly harder as you watch him bite his lip. The angle is a little awkward, though it doesn't make you less enthusiastic as Eddie starts to move his hips with the rhythm of your head— gently, lightly, just enough for you to reward him by slipping the hand around his base downwards to cup his balls. You know he likes that, and you're pleased when his teeth release his lip so he can grin down at you.

Distantly, you hear Chrissy speak again, though this time, it's not directed at you. "You're quite the multitasker, Steve. I'm impressed. Stretching me open so well while you fuck her little cunt." As Steve hums in approval, you change the angle of your head, lightly kneading Eddie's balls as he thrusts lazily into your cheek. Fire smolders low at the feeling of Steve's cock in your pussy and Eddie's in your mouth. You moan, a slight, breathy sound, tongue playing against Eddie's length as you watch him reach for your face, dark eyes intent as his calloused thumb gently swipes at the corner of your mouth and chin to wipe away your spit for you. And you feel it again— that verdant, lush feeling that spread when he held your hand. As it blooms down to your belly, the moth wings flutter, beating a frenzy while Steve starts to fuck you faster, cock reaching deeper, hips pounding harder against your spread thighs.

You pull off Eddie then, fingers stroking over his length slick with your spit; you work him with your hand as you lick along his underside. And you really fucking love this— you love the way your body is shaking with the force of Steve's thrusts as you play with Eddie's cock, as you hear that smoky voice groan when you lick down to Eddie's balls, sucking one and then the other into your mouth. It's your fantasy come to life, and you whimper, pleasure flaring as you realize it, face flushing down your neck to your chest as your body rocks. You can hear Steve and Chrissy exchanging filthy words, but you register it only distantly as your breasts bounce with the force of Steve's pounding. You whimper again, muffled around Eddie's balls, the sound stuttering as Steve fucks you. 

"Shit." The sighed word is louder by proximity but said more quietly than Steve and Chrissy. You realize then that your eyes are closed, and they flutter open as you release Eddie's balls to lick up his cock again, moaning breathily until you realize he's staring intently at your bouncing breasts. 

You hadn't really been thinking about what your body looked like until you now register the intensity of Eddie's stare, and you feel a flash of insecurity. Your breasts aren't small and perky like Chrissy's; when you get pounded like this, they shake and jiggle, and so, to an extent, do your soft stomach, your thighs, and your ass. You haven't retracted your tongue, but your expression starts to crumple into hesitance until Eddie husks, "Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how gorgeous you look right now." He's muttering quietly, smoke voice rough with desire. 

Your belly flutters at the praise, at the fact that Eddie has chosen to speak so quietly. Because it means that he's only really interested in you hearing him. Not that it's a secret, or that he doesn't want the others to hear him, but that he only really cares that you receive his words. Pleasure twists, burning hotter as you lick up and down his length again before wrapping your lips firmly around his head. He exhales sharply, like a sigh of appreciation. "Christ." 

And as you feel the way Eddie's words affect you, always desirous for more of Eddie's reactions, too… caught in the pleasure of this moment taken straight from your deepest fantasies… noticing how Steve and Chrissy are still talking to one another, and thus distracted…

And with that tendril of green peeking through the earth at the bottom of you…

You decide to try something. You decide to tell Eddie the truth.

You pull off his head, replacing your mouth with your hand to keep stimulating him. And you murmur against his heated skin, voice soft and stuttering with the impact of Steve's hips. "I really like sucking your cock, Eddie."

As you see how his brown eyes widen and deepen, eyebrows jumping in surprised pleasure to hear you talking to him, you get the reaction you desire. "Yeah?" That smoke voice is nearly a purr, deep and sensual, sinking into the pit of your belly to smolder there. "You like it?"

"Mmm-hmm," you confirm, staring up at him as you lick his slit. You keep stroking him intently as you think about what you want to say next. And you feel a little shy, but Eddie's looking at you with such heat that you add, voice barely more than a whisper, "I want you to finish in my mouth."

Your eyes stay locked on Eddie's face, hips squirming as he murmurs back, "Of course, sweet girl. I'll give you all my cum."

"Mmm," you moan, pleasure flaring as you burn hotter, brighter at his promise and his praise. A little louder, you say, "I wanna swallow it." 

"Oh, fuck," Eddie groans, head tilting back as his hips jerk forward against your lips. And it's like as soon as you've voiced it, you need it— you need to taste the salty tang of his warm seed in your mouth, to see the flush of his cheeks, to hear the sound of his voice as you bring him to completion. 

You move your hand faster, lifting your head so you can bob on Eddie's length, taking him as deep as you can from this angle as Steve keeps fucking you evenly—

And then Steve's hips impact you hard, jolting your body as he groans deep in his throat. His rhythm stutters as he twitches inside you, pressing deep as he fills your pussy with his cum. But Eddie is fully in your mouth, and you didn't realize Steve was about to cum, so your teeth scrape against Eddie's sensitive head. 

You hear him hiss as he winces, and you pull off him immediately, brow crumpling in remorse. "I'm sorry!" 

The guilt fades as Eddie cups your head, calloused fingers gentle as his thumb rubs soothingly against your cheek. "No, it's okay," he says quietly. "I'm fine." You make a small sound as you lean into his touch. 

Steve is pulling out of you, but you're cupping your smaller hand over Eddie's, turning your face and kissing his palm softly. Steve is pressing Chrissy down to the bed, but Eddie is watching you, sighing as you take him back into your mouth. Steve is telling Chrissy how unbelievably sexy she is, but you're looking up at Eddie's plush lips as they part in pleasure, the pleasure you're giving him. Chrissy is moaning, high, feminine, and loud as she gushes around Steve's fingers, but Eddie's dark eyes don't leave yours, not once, not even for a second.

And as Eddie starts to twitch in your mouth— as his brow creases, dark eyes now desperate, hips rocking forward, pale quartz chest heaving under inked armor— you release him from your lips, gripping him tightly as you drag your fist over his thick length, over that spongy head flushed a deep pink, and you ask, "Will you cum for me, Eddie?"

Eddie moans, tight and high. "Fuck, yes—"

You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to catch the first hot rope of Eddie's cum as his mouth falls open, and the sound he makes shoots straight down to zing into your pussy. Your thighs tighten, Steve's release squishing between your legs as you watch Eddie reach completion. You devour every second of his orgasm— the way his eyes scrunch shut, the pink flush of his cheeks and how it spreads down his neck; the way he grips the headboard, ruddy knuckles turning white as you continue to stroke him; the way he moans out his release, long and tight, hoarse and high, uncontrolled as he paints your tongue, your lips, your chin. You feel a thrill at the indulgence of it: cum in your pussy that leaks sticky between your thighs, cum on your face that drips warm and thick onto your breasts. 

Heat coils and pools low as Eddie's brown eyes blink open, hazy and sated. You lick him off your lips as he looks down at you. His eyes widen, and he seems almost awed as he sees the state you're in: hair mussed, lips flushed and swollen, a mess of his cum on your skin. But you don't feel the need to hide under the weight of his stare; instead, you take his head into your mouth, cleaning the salty tang from his slit. And when you do that, Eddie makes the most delicious sound. It's tiny, slight, but you hear it nonetheless: his lips press tight, his brow creases, and Eddie whimpers. 

He sounds pitiful, nearly pathetic, and as you register it, two things happen.

One, fluttering moth's wings burst instantly in your belly, beating up to your ribcage, trapped behind it as you release his tip with a gasp. 

And two, you see it again: that pink on Eddie's black and white, spreading as he holds your gaze, looking almost like he wants to glance away, but he can't. That blush isn't heat from his arousal; it's not sex flush. It doesn't look exactly like embarrassment, either. It's something else. Something that reminds you of the gentleness you sometimes see in his eyes.

Thin arms wrap around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him from the side as Chrissy happily nuzzles his cheek. Her strawberry-blonde waves are touseled, but they still look silky when she turns her head to glance down at you. "Oh, you already came? I wanted to watch." Chrissy sounds disappointed until her gaze dips lower. Her eyes brighten then, arms tightening around Eddie's shoulders as he glances at her. "Ooh, you really made a mess of her pretty tits, didn't you? You're so sexy, baby!" She smiles, and you watch Eddie crook a grin back as the mattress bounces on your other side.

Steve flops down next to you, sighing contentedly as he runs a hand through his damp bangs. "Damn, that was really fucking good—" He glances at you then, brows shooting up. "Oh, shit, babe, you're a mess."

There isn't any judgment in his voice, just surprise as his eyes dart over your chin and breasts; before you can respond, Eddie jumps in. "I can get her a towel," he offers quickly, and you glance up to see his hands on Chrissy's arms, pulling them from around his shoulders as she pouts. 

"Nah, man, it's fine. I got it." Steve's reply is easy and casual, and he flashes you a grin before he gets up. Though you'd all learned quickly that towels in bed were a must, the one you had prepared has been thoroughly saturated by the intensity of Chrissy's squirting orgasm.

The soft smacking of lips draws your eyes automatically, though they dart away from the sight of Eddie and Chrissy kissing as you watch the bathroom doorway instead, waiting for Steve to return as the cum begins to cool on your skin. 

He reemerges soon enough, hazel eyes fond as he brings you the towel. Your gaze drags over powerful shoulders, a solid torso, the thick brown hair on his chest almost furlike before it trails down his belly to end in a neat trim around his now-soft length. The mattress dips again with Steve's weight, and you're appreciative as he wipes you gently with the towel— first your lips and chin, then your breasts, and then between your legs. 

"Thank you," you say, smiling softly as Steve drops a kiss to your bent knee before propping himself up on an elbow beside you. You feel a shift behind you as Eddie and Chrissy leave the bed, presumably to go clean themselves up. 

You draw your fingers through Steve's bangs, smile growing as they flop back into his eyes again. "No problem, babe," he says warmly. 

But when Steve pecks you briefly on the lips, settling his head against his pillow with a contented sigh, you find your hand automatically reaching behind you, searching along the duvet. You're looking for the man who'd knelt before you, for those pale thighs dusted with sparse hair, forgetting for a moment that he's already gone.

-

It's been quite a while since you've stepped foot into the old cinema on Fourth and Main, but it seems nothing has changed in your absence. The carpet is still that dingy pattern from the mid-nineties, the air smells of age and synthetic butter, and they still have those oversized cardboard cut-outs displayed near the entrance. You beam as you see the ones depicting two giant blue people, pulling Steve eagerly along as he chuckles at you. Standing in front of the pair of giant blue people is a pair of regular-sized people in their casual best: a metalhead swathed all in black— sweatshirt, ripped jeans and all— and a former cheerleader adorned in soft pastels, complete with fuzzy slippers and a chic oversized sweater. You're all dressed a little warmer than the weather requires in anticipation of the frigid air conditioning the theater always seems to be pumping, regardless of the time of year. 

Your thick cardigan flops loosely against your thighs as you bound over to them, eyes darting from one face to the other: from Eddie's eager brown eyes and bright grin to Chrissy's baby blues and fond smile, bow lips only slightly pinched as you stop in front of them. Her displeasure has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the movie you're going to see; she doesn't share the same love of fantasy you and Eddie do. But Avatar: The Way of Water is the first big fantasy movie that's graced the big screen in what feels like forever. You'd been awash with childish wonder in the age of Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Lord of the Rings , and this release conjures an echo of that feeling. You're buzzing with that same youthful exuberance you'd felt seeing those films as a kid, and you see that same energy echoed in the frenetic bouncing of Eddie's knee, the edge to his manic grin.

"Hi!" You chirp, throwing your arms around Chrissy first, scrunching your shoulders as she squeezes you back.

"Hey!" She smiles wider at you, eyes extra blue with fondness as you release her to hug Eddie next. You can feel his excitement in the way he squeezes you tighter than usual, and your back bends with the force of his lean. You chuckle against his hood, and he only lets you go once you pat his back to ask for mercy. Steve joins you in greeting your friends as you ask if they've been waiting long.

"No, we basically just got here," Chrissy says with a light sigh. Her voice is wheedling as she throws out one last-ditch attempt: "Are we sure we don't wanna see Megan instead? It's playing at the same time; it would be so easy to switch since we haven't gotten the tickets yet…."

Eddie looks pained as he shifts on his feet, eyes locked on Chrissy's face, which is now puppy-dog soft in an effort to coax him. "Babe,” he says imploringly, “we’ve already talked about this, and we agreed…."

Chrissy pouts up at him, adding another chink in his resolve with her sweet voice. "It did better on Rotten Tomatoes, too." 

Eddie looks helplessly around at the rest of you, relinquishing the decision to you and Steve in his silence. Your shoulders fall; you knew Chrissy didn't want to see this movie, but you hadn't realized she was so vehemently opposed. And you know Steve isn't really interested in it either. He's basically in the same boat as Chrissy— just going along with it because he knows it's something you want to see.

Though your eagerness begins to edge into disappointment, you feel yourself already swaying with the invisible pressure of their preferences. You open your mouth to relent, but Steve answers first. "Yeah, but it still did well, and I've heard good things from people at the office," he says, relaxed and casual. "The first one was a huge hit. I think it's worth checking out."

At Steve's resistance, you see Chrissy resign herself. "Okay, fine," she says through a final, heavier sigh before looking up at her boyfriend. "Can we take a selfie with the blue people, at least?"

"Of course," Eddie says quickly. As they take their photo, you wrap your arm around Steve's, smiling against his sleeve as you feel him lean into the press of your cheek. You're grateful that he'd stuck up for your choice even though you know he'd probably rather see Megan too. You communicate it silently in the softness of your eyes as you look up into Steve's boyishly handsome face, and you feel a gentle flutter as he smiles back at you, full lips stretching in a crooked grin.

"Okay," Chrissy says, and her expensive perfume wafts over you as she draws closer. You release Steve as she asks, "Can you guys go get the tickets?"

"And the snacks?" you add, shooting a hopeful glance at Steve as Eddie flanks him. 

"'Course," your boyfriend replies, and together, you and Chrissy watch them lope away. You let her pull you toward a bench near the wall to wait. 

"Help me pick a filter!" You lean in as she holds her phone between you, opening up the Instagram editor. The picture is a low-angle selfie with Jake and Neytiri in the background; Chrissy is winking, and Eddie has his tongue stuck out in that characteristic way of his. A tiny fond smile tugs at your lips as you watch the shadows of his face transform, changing in depth and hue while Chrissy tests the different filters. "What about this one?" she asks, angling the phone to you at the same time that a text-message notification appears at the top of her screen. It's a message from her mom.

And you aren't trying to look, but your eyes are drawn to it automatically, scanning the text before Chrissy can dismiss it with a hasty swipe. "I've had it with you, Christine. You just do whatever the hell you want. You have some nerve using us and our money and still—

It's over in a second, but you're left reeling with the unintended intrusion. Your eyes dart to find Chrissy blinking rapidly, expression blank. Sympathy pangs high in your chest, aching in your throat. "Are you okay?" you ask quietly. You watch her chin twitch, and then Chrissy's smiling at you with those bow lips, revealing charming, slightly crooked teeth beyond.

"Of course! It's— I'm fine," she replies quickly, eyebrows tugged into an exaggeration of brightness, a mask she's wearing to convince you. But Chrissy's blue eyes are too expressive, and you know her too well now. She can't conceal the dimness there.

You consider asking her again or making an attempt at comforting her. But you abandon the thought quickly— you don't know the situation, and she's never spoken about her parents with you, so any attempts would come off clumsy at best. You nod, conjuring a small smile, but you don't feel right doing nothing, pretending it hadn't happened. So you reach out for her hand where it's fisted on her leggings. It's a silent show of support, a gentle overture that you hope helps.

After a moment, Chrissy loosens her fist, turning her hand and weaving her fingers through yours to squeeze you tightly. And you feel fondness bloom to mix with the sympathy when you look at her face again and see the relief, the gratefulness there. "I think that's a good choice," you tell her, nodding your chin toward the filter she's chosen.

"Me, too," Chrissy says warmly, pulling her fingers gently from yours so she can add a caption and post it to her story. She occupies the rest of the time showing you her Instagram photos, and you coo and fawn over them, knowing she's using it as a distraction from her earlier sadness. There are some of her and Eddie, some depicting herself in yoga poses, some with her and a group of girls you don't recognize in various locations— a winery, a farm in the fall, and a countless variety of bars. "This one is my favorite," she tells you happily, tapping on a photo of an aggressively-sleek electric guitar, shining red and slung around her body. Her hip is cocked with attitude, dainty fingers thrown high in a 'rock on' gesture, face scrunched with her tongue poking out. 

"It's super cute," you say, noting that others seem to agree; the post has more interaction than many of the others, though they all have dozens of likes, some approaching hundreds. 

The guys rejoin you then, and you eagerly accept the cup Steve passes to you. He has a large bucket of popcorn wedged under his other arm. "Cherry coke?" you confirm, grinning as he huffs familiarly. 

"Duh," Steve says playfully, and Eddie nudges him with his elbow.

"C'mon," Eddie says through his teeth, which are already clamped around a cherry-red Twizzler. "Chris's leaving us in the dust." You lean around Steve to see her leading the way into theater number three; she spins around when she notices you haven't followed, painted fingers working open her miniature bag of Skittles.

You trot after Steve as he follows Eddie, and Eddie follows Chrissy. You're soon plunged into dimness, surrounded by the rustling of other moviegoers hushed under the pre-movie reel depicting some actor interview. You realize then, as you gaze at Steve's back, that you want to voice your thankfulness for what he'd done for you. You draw close, fingers brushing against his wrist as his hand swings back; when he notices, he glances over his shoulder at you, hazel eyes warm as he wraps his hand around yours. 

"Thank you," you murmur, pausing at the end of the aisle to lift on your toes and kiss Steve's cheek. 

Steve seems pleased but confused. "For the snacks?" 

"No. Well, yes," you chuckle. "But no. For sticking up for the movie. I know you didn't really want to see it."

His face softens then, eyes alight with the glow of the movie screen. "Of course," he replies fondly, kissing your forehead. You smile big, shuffling eagerly after him as he sits next to Eddie. You flop into your own rickety seat, depositing your cherry coke into the arm holder as you wiggle, trying to find a comfortable position. The cushions are worn near threadbare, but you're too excited for what's coming to care.

Your excitement bursts out as you lean forward, looking across at your companions to tell them eagerly, "So I read this crazy thing about the first Avatar movie the other day. Apparently, James Cameron spent, like, millions and millions of dollars creating a soundtrack because he wanted it to sound like nothing anyone had ever heard before, with new time signatures and stuff. But then, because they were so successful at making it sound alien, Cameron decided it was too strange to include in the movie. So they scrapped the original soundtrack and made a more traditional one that they thought audiences would like better."

Steve nods slowly, like he doesn't entirely know what you're talking about but is impressed with your knowledge. "Shit," Eddie says, "that's—"

Chrissy leans forward. "That sounds super weird. I bet no one would've seen it if they kept it."

You shrug, replying lightly, "Yeah, I think that was the whole idea around changing it."

"That would've been cool, though." Eddie bites off the end of his Twizzler, chewing as he waves it in the air. "Like, here's this film that Cameron'd been waiting to make for years since the technology wasn't good enough to actually do it before 2009. So it's ground-breaking with its visual effects and also with it's fuckin' weird-ass soundtrack?" He grins. "Would've been a pretty ballsy move if they'd gone through with it."

"I guess." Chrissy tilts her head before pushing back, though her voice is without bite. "But when people go to the movies, they expect a certain thing. They want to actually enjoy their experience. So to do something totally unexpected…." Her eyes brighten as she thinks of an example. "Oh! It'd be like if you went to a Yung Gravy concert and this guy—" she motions to Eddie with her nose scrunched up, "came out. Huge letdown."

As Chrissy motioned to him, your eyes had darted to Eddie's face. So you see the split-second right before he smirks that it changes. It's minuscule, a minute twitching of his muscles, the briefest flash of something behind his eyes. And the theater may be dim, but you know what you saw.

Eddie chuckles dryly. "Yes, Chris, we're all fully aware you hate metal."

"Well, I'm just saying…" she defends, eyes darting around the group before landing on you. "You know what I mean, right, y/n? Not what I paid for!"

You know she's waiting for an answer, eyes locked expectantly on you. You swallow, only one split-second to decide how to respond: say what you really think or say what she wants to hear.

What you want to say is, No. I don't know what you mean, Chrissy. Can't you see you've hurt him? You thrum with your desire to push back, pressure building in your chest as your words beat against your breast, wanting to escape. But under the weight of Chrissy's bright blue gaze, those words stick in your throat, and you can't quite bring yourself to look into her face and argue so directly with her. Still, as your eyes dart to wild curls, the pale quartz of Eddie's blank face, and the dark ink of his eyes, neither can you bring yourself to agree with her.

So you don't say anything.

There's a long beat of uncomfortable silence before Steve interjects, joking to try to break the tension. "She can't relate— put her Spotify on random lately, and you'll hear T-Swift and Sleep Token one after the other." 

Chrissy wrinkles her nose. "Who?" 

Steve chuckles once, a little awkward. "Nevermind." 

Chrissy shrugs, unbothered as she pops a handful of Skittles into her mouth. 

The lights dim fully then, fading slowly into darkness as the first trailer begins. You feel the vague thrum of pressure behind your ribcage fade, the wrinkle eventually smoothing from between your brows as you watch it. You find yourself distracted, however, as you hear in the murmured, nearly one-sided conversation Eddie is having with Steve, how he's bemoaning that Lord of the Rings was the last good fantasy movie franchise.

"What about Harry Potter?" Steve and Eddie glance at you as you lean over Steve's lap, conscientious about keeping your voice down, so you don't disturb everyone around you. 

Eddie scoffs. "What about it? In no way does it compare to Lord of the Rings. They're not even in the same league." His voice is louder than yours, and you narrow your eyes, dropping your volume pointedly.

"Well, are you counting The Hobbit as part of the franchise? 'Cause those movies are total trash in comparison. I mean, I'll be the first to admit that the original trilogy is a masterpiece—"

"See?" Eddie interjects, triumph in the crook of his lips.

"But," you add, punctuating the word with a pointed finger, " The Hobbit trilogy totally falls short. Drags the whole ship down with it. It bombed so bad that I'd argue it's almost an equalizer."

Eddie sighs sharply, tugging on his dark curls as he leans further over Steve's lap toward you. You ignore how Steve is beginning to look disgruntled as you both crowd into his space; you're too invested in the argument to care. "I mean, look, the problem with The Hobbit is—"

"Dude." Steve's whisper is harsh with exasperation as he eyes Eddie. "I don't wanna be stuck in the middle of this the whole movie. Just switch seats with me." 

Steve and Eddie stare at each other for a second before Eddie shrugs, unfolding himself awkwardly so he and Steve can maneuver around each other. Your bucket seat shudders as Eddie falls into the chair beside yours, leaning intently over the armrest as if he'd never been interrupted. "The problem with those movies is, The Hobbit is a children's book. So not only is there less plot, there's also a lot more, like…" he waves his hands around as he speaks, "whimsy in it. And they kind of leaned into that whimsy, but they didn't go far enough. They were still trying to make it epic, so tonally, it was just a confused mess."

You nod eagerly as he speaks, eyes locked on bright brown. "No, I totally agree with you on that. They also never should've stretched it to three movies. Should've kept it to two at the most."

Eddie grins crookedly, rubbing his fingers together in front of his face as he leans back in his seat. "It's all about the money, darlin'. That's all it's ever about."

You huff a chuckle. "Yeah, really." 

You lapse into silence for a moment, but when you look at Eddie again, you're reminded of that brief flash of hurt you'd seen on his face earlier. He seems fine now, but it's needling at you: the insistent desire to check on him.

"Hey," you say quietly, and he glances at you curiously. "Um… are you okay?" His face goes blank, and you rush to explain, "I just mean, I thought that maybe… when Chrissy said—"

His brow crinkles immediately. "Uh, yeah," he replies, cutting you off, words whip-sharp— not harsh, not angry, but decisive. Dismissive. He chuckles once, looking perplexed as he glances away at the screen. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"

You blink at him, a little taken aback by his change in demeanor. "Okay," you say, voice small, nearly regretful to have said anything. 

Silence settles between you, and you realize that you haven't been paying attention to the last two trailers. You take a sip of cherry coke, sweet fizz bursting on your tongue as you turn your eyes to the screen, watching until you hear that smoky voice murmuring close by. 

"You know, I've got a tattoo of Sting." He's leaning casually back in the seat, twirling the end of his uneaten Twizzler-half as he watches the screen. "That's Frodo's elven blade," he adds when you remain silent, brown eyes flashing briefly toward you. They're gentle now, almost rueful, and you recognize the comment for what it is. Not quite an apology, but certainly an olive branch.

"I know what Sting is," you say, smiling as you draw his attention with your reply. "And I'm not surprised. You have, like, a bajillion tattoos."

Mischief suddenly fills Eddie's face. "Where do you think it is?"

You eye him, taking a cue from the sudden glint in his expression. "Probably on your ass," you say baldly.

Eddie barks a sudden laugh, harsh and loud, and the sound draws the irritated gazes of nearly everyone in your immediate vicinity. You shush him frantically, hand fisting in the soft material of his hoodie as you lean in. "Shut up!" You hiss, but there's no malice in it; laughter curls at your lips, begging to be released, and you see the mirth on Eddie's face as he ducks closer to you, dark curls tickling your cheek. 

His reply is a whisper tinged with suppressed chuckles, quieter than you've ever heard him to compensate for his outburst. "Don't you think you would've noticed by now if I had a tattoo on my ass?"

You snort, whispering wryly back, "I don't spend all my time staring at your ass, Eddie."

His eyes are wide and innocent. "Oh, you don't? That's too bad."

You know it's bait, but curiosity wins out. "Why's that?"

"'Cause that would've made us even since I spend a good deal of my time staring at your ass." 

Eddie smirks charmingly as he flusters you; you feel your cheeks heat, flush prickling insistently under his wolfish stare. You release his hoodie, leaning back as you resist the urge to squirm with the sudden flare of moth wings. He seems content to let you go, tipping up his chin, looking rather pleased with himself when you sneak a quick glance at him.

A slow, dawning comprehension comes upon you as your eyes run over his profile. You realize that Eddie's black— his sharpness, his wit, his wolfish smiles, the leather and chains and ink he cloaks himself in— are almost like a guard, an armor he wears to keep his gentle white from showing. Still, that gentleness can't help but peek through sometimes. Because you think, at his core, Eddie is a genuinely kind and caring man. You think there's a softness to him that he seems to want to keep hidden.

It makes you wonder why he feels he needs to do that.

Your ruminations are interrupted by the jaunty little 'silence your phones' clip that signals the movie is about to start. You snuggle down into your seat, eyes rapt on the screen as the opening scene begins.

The experience is precisely what you'd hoped for: visually stunning, delightfully nostalgic, an opportunity to re-experience that sense of childhood wonder that so often becomes lost in adulthood. And Eddie proves himself a delightful seat partner. You can see why Steve had eagerly switched places with him since you know most people would likely find Eddie's running commentary irritating, but his boyish excitement is so adorable that you don't mind. You glare at him playfully when he steals sips of your cherry coke, pretending to pout until you feel your cheek poked by the end of a Twizzler he offers in recompense.

"Damn," Eddie murmurs close, conscientiously quiet now that the movie has begun, and you resist a shiver as his warm breath puffs against your ear. "Those are some impressive dreads. Maybe I should get dreads."

You huff amusedly, eyebrow crooked skeptically as you glance at him. Your breath catches with how close his face is— close enough to count every long eyelash that frames those eyes, the most beautiful shade of brown you've ever seen. You gather yourself to reply, "No, Eddie. No dreadlocks."

His eyes dance, darting between yours as his plush pink lips pull into a crooked grin. "What," he whispers, "don't think I could pull it off?"

You swallow thickly, moth wings fluttering as he stares at you so intently from such a close distance. This certainly isn't the first time you've been this close to Eddie— you've kissed him countless times in your apartment. But this is different. You're in public, sitting in a crowded movie theater, so the setting is, objectively, less intimate than laying side-by-side on your king-sized bed. But maybe that's what makes it feel so intimate— that you aren't here to swing with him and Chrissy and Steve, to engage in daring acts of sexual debauchery. You're here to do something totally commonplace: watch a movie you'd been looking forward to seeing. One that you're now experiencing together with him.

"Nope," you whisper back, grinning so he knows you're teasing. Your eyes scan Eddie's disheveled curls, and impulsively, you tug on one as you add playfully, "Plus, I think the eighties mullet suits you."

When he doesn't reply, your eyes dart from the lock of hair in your grasp to his face, and you find him with his lips twisted against a broad grin, one cheek dimpled charmingly, brown eyes bright. Wings flutter again and the feeling is intense enough that you have to look away. 

Avatar: The Way of Water has a run time of one hundred and ninety-two minutes. That's just over three hours. And during the course of those three hours, as you see the wonder overtake Eddie's face as the light from the screen plays across his pale quartz skin, feeling that same sense of wonder inside yourself; as you sip your drink, passing the cup to him and accepting Twizzlers without a second thought; as Eddie smiles at you when your darting eyes catch, and you smile automatically back, something continues to grow at the very bottom of you. That tendril of green sprouts taller, straightening as it reaches for the light that shines in beautiful brown eyes. With each tiny brush of those callused fingers, leaves begin to bud, unfurling soft and fragile. Collecting that brightness, using it to feed your roots, to nourish you, so that you can grow strong. 

So that you can finally thrive.

Suddenly, you want to lift the armrest that divides you and press yourself against Eddie's side, to burrow into the plush softness of his thick hoodie. You want Eddie to wrap his arm around you, to hold you close, to envelop you in his warmth, in his scent, in the smoke of his voice. You want to stroke your fingers along the back of his hand, to feel the roughness there and the smooth metal of his rings. You want to bury your face in the crook of his neck, to shove your nose against the musk of his skin, to feel the tickle of his curls against your cheek. 

A poignant yearning fills you as you want, you want, you want—

"Want some popcorn?" 

There's a bucket half-filled with popcorn hovering over Eddie's lap, and your eyes dart to hazel and a swoop of artfully-disheveled bangs. Mutely, you shake your head as Eddie takes a handful, shoving it in his mouth as your boyfriend settles back into his seat. You watch dainty fingers dip into the bucket, the sway of Chrissy's strawberry-blonde hair as she leans forward, blue eyes locked on the screen as she absently presses popcorn past those bow lips.

A pang of annoyance curdles in your stomach; a thought blooms, sudden and violent.

You wish Steve and Chrissy weren't here. You wish it was just you and Eddie.

Almost as soon as it comes, that pang of annoyance leaves you; you balk at the thought immediately. You lift your head from Eddie's shoulder to glance again at Steve— Steve, your boyfriend of three years, who'd fought for you to see this movie even as he yawns widely now, eyes dull with boredom. What's wrong with you? How could you think that? The sticky tar of sinking guilt weighs on you, and you settle back into your seat, retreating from Eddie's warmth. 

He glances at you briefly, but you avoid his gaze, eyes locked instead on the screen. But you aren't really absorbing anything, caught up in the sudden realization that, in the course of these two months of group play, double dates, and late-night texting, something has finally caught up with you. 

You have a crush on Eddie. 

The realization twists you up in its grip, unable to be ignored now that you've acknowledged it. And when the theater lights finally rise, conflict rages within you, tumbling with the thick guilt and the flutters you can't help but feel when Eddie's hand brushes incidentally against the small of your back as you leave the theater.

You school your face into neutrality as you wrap your arm around Steve's, clinging to him tightly as soon as he's discarded the empty bucket of popcorn. You paste on a smile as you say goodbye to Chrissy, guilt panging at the soft kindness in her eyes as she acknowledges, "That was actually better than I thought it would be! I'm glad we went."

"Yeah, I liked it," Eddie says, plush lips crooked with a grin. 

"Good," Chrissy says, warm and fond as she smiles up into his face.

You hug her tight, and though you hold on for a beat too long, she just sighs against you contentedly, none the wiser that the strength of your embrace is due to that oozing sense of guilt inside. You're both dreading and longing for Eddie's goodbye hug as you lightly wrap your arms around his shoulders. Despite yourself, you relish the contact as his arms close around you, warm hands rubbing briskly along your back, and your neutral expression crumples as you feel his lips press briefly against the side of your hair. You barely manage to school your face again before pulling away, flashing a quick smile as you decisively take your boyfriend's hand.

And as you leave the theater with Steve, you glance back only once at the man dressed all in black, watching him lope away until the urge to retreat from the sight overtakes you.

The sticky tar of guilt spreads within. It shades your growth, oozing down into the earth at the bottom of you, trying its best to wither your roots.

-

The thing about the human psyche is that it'll do whatever it can to protect and preserve its sense of self. Humans cannot live forever with guilt; it must be resolved somehow. And, in your case, your guilt will do one of two things.

It may smother that fledgling growth inside you. In that case, your feelings for Eddie will weaken until they finally wilt away. Or you will tell Steve that you no longer want to swing with Eddie and Chrissy, thus nipping the problem directly in the bud.

Yet there’s still the other possibility: that your growth may survive, too sturdy to be smothered by that oozing tar. In that case, you will reason that Steve is happy— happier than you've seen him since he'd gotten that promotion at work over a year ago. You will reason that you've both gained two close friends, good friends who are good people, whose company enriches your lives. You will reason that you are mature enough to separate feelings and lust, to compartmentalize so that all of you can continue enjoying your sexual encounters together— the same way you'd controlled those feelings of jealousy. And you will not reason this, but somewhere, deep down, you will know it: that being close to Eddie feels too good for you to stop. 

Your leaves are delicate, and that green stem has just uncurled. But your roots are deep, long-nourished by light and ink-black charcoal. 

It takes startlingly little time for the tar of your guilt to dry and crumble to dust.

-

It's another Friday night, not long after your trip to the movies. You're crowded around the tiny bar table, head swimming from the celebratory shots you'd taken with the other girls— two of Chrissy's friends, who'd come with you all for drinks after the charity fundraiser Chrissy had helped organize for the yoga studio she teaches at. One of them is telling a story, something about the results of the rose ceremony from this week's Bachelor episode. You're trying to listen, but your eyes can't stop flicking to black and white. You burn for the moment you will finally leave this place, for when four pairs of feet will shuffle through your front door, kicking off shoes and tugging off clothes on the way to the bedroom.

You've never seen Eddie dressed like this before, and you must admit, it's doing something to you.

He's still wearing those tight black jeans, the wallet chain, and the dark boots he's so partial to, but his shirt is uncharacteristically formal. It's a white button down, worn untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, two buttons now popped at the collar to reveal a peek of that dark body armor across his chest. The ink snakes down his forearms, tendons stark as they run below the leather bracelet strapped around his wrist. Your gaze trails across ruddy knuckles, chunky silver rings, and those limber fingers that run along the edge of his whiskey glass, silently reminding you just what he can do with them.

And then there's his hair.

You've seen Eddie's curls frizzy with rain, damp with sweat, loose around his shoulders, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck. But you've never seen him with a ponytail— hair scraped back along his skull, curls a thick cascade, short pieces dusting his sharp jaw, the silver of his earrings winking at you in the light. He looks utterly delectable.

Fuck, you want to devour him.

It's such sweet relief when you finally agree to call it a night and burst from the bar's front doors. This early May evening may be mild, but it's still enough to cool your burning cheeks as you stumble to your Uber, crammed into the back seat with Chrissy and Eddie as Steve takes shotgun. Giggles abound— from you and Chrissy, not so much Eddie— during the short trip back home, warm and resonant like the alcohol crawling through your veins. 

You suppose you've had more shots than you'd realized.

Car turns to elevator turns to hallway, and then you're home, staggering through the threshold as you shed your heels, practically vibrating with anticipation as the others join you. 

And then there's the bed, with its soft duvet and fluffy pillows begging you to sink into them. You're dragging your dress over your head as the mattress dips and more bodies join yours, and you emerge from the fabric to see Chrissy in her black bra and thong, Steve dressed down to his furry chest and tight blue jeans, and Eddie in his loose green boxers, limber fingers working the buttons of that white shirt open. 

You shuffle closer, burning anticipation settling to a comfortable simmer now that you're all finally alone together. You smile fondly as you wrap one arm around Chrissy's back, leaning in as her dainty fingers find your waist. Her mouth is sharp with alcohol as you open your lips, pink tongues darting teasingly, equally interested in tasting one another as you are in putting on an enticing show for your men. You smile into the kiss as you hear their groans, and Chrissy's hands trail tantalizingly over your waist, cupping your breasts over your bra. She pushes them together, pulling her mouth from yours so you can press your cheeks close, gazing heavy-lidded over at your men. 

They're both down to underwear, lean pale quartz beside tanned solidity, lounging comfortably back against your pillows as they watch you. Eddie's arm is slung casually around Steve's shoulders, hair freed from the ponytail now as Steve's temple leans against his, one leg bent, the other hanging off the bed. You and Chrissy continue to gaze at them, cheeks nuzzling, her hands kneading your breasts until your boyfriends glance at each other, knowing what you want.

You suck on your bottom lip as you watch Eddie and Steve kiss, muffling a moan in your throat as their mouths open wide, tongues dipping inside, strong jaws working as their faces press close. They know you and Chrissy love watching them kiss, and they oblige you easily now, reaping the benefits of how worked up you both get from the sight. Chrissy's hand leaves one of your breasts to turn your chin, kissing you again for a little while as you listen to the soft smacking of Eddie and Steve's lips. You're still hazy with alcohol, drunk on wine, tequila, and the low rumble of masculine moans that shoots straight down to throb in your pussy. Your desire quickly grows insistent, burning low in your belly; as you squirm with it, thighs tightening to try to bring relief, Chrissy nips your lower lip cheekily before letting you go. 

You turn intent eyes to the men before you, to the columns of their necks that seem to beg for your mouth to nip and suck and mark them up with pretty bruises. You have two choices. You could choose the tanned one, nape dusted by the touseled brown waves of Steve's hair, solid and powerful. He's right in front of you; all you'd need to do is shift forward on your knees, and you'd reach him. Or, you could choose the pale neck, framed by Eddie's long dark curls, angular and corded. He's farther away; you'd need to cross in front of Chrissy to reach him.

The choice is simple.

Eyes locked on pale quartz, you clamber sloppily past Chrissy's folded legs and drape yourself across Eddie's chest to reach his neck. The first contact of your lips against that warm column has you sighing in relief, trailing open-mouthed kisses up to that spot just beneath his ear. You can feel Eddie's jaw working as he keeps kissing Steve while you suck on his throat, and when you nip him playfully, you relish the moan that rumbles low in his throat, vibrating against your lips. Insistently, you work him until he finally breaks away from your boyfriend; as soon as his mouth is free, you're swooping in, capturing kiss-swollen lips, swallowing his moan as he opens for you to dip inside. 

Eddie always tastes a little spicy, no matter what else has been in his mouth— alcohol, Twizzlers, Steve's tongue. It's this tantalizing flavor that you now associate with Eddie, and you search for it with your own tongue, kissing him deeply until he's wrapping his arms around you. More uninhibited than usual, thanks to those tequila shots, you feel a flash of mischievousness, acting on the impulse before you can think better of it; you tip to the left, dragging Eddie down flat onto the bed with you. You feel him chuckle into your mouth, and your lips curl in a smile, legs tangling with his as soon as you're both sideways, pressing close to the heat of his skin.

Eddie leans eagerly into your kiss, one arm trapped underneath you, the other trailing lightly over your back. You reach behind you to snatch him by the wrist, nearly straining a muscle in your haste to unwrap his arm from around you; boldly, you drag his hand down, pressing his fingers against your pussy over your panties. 

He breaks the kiss then, plush pink lips crooked with a sensual grin as he murmurs low, "Eager tonight, are we?"

"Mm—" you whimper at the heat in his smoky voice, the light flush that already stains his cheeks. You lean toward his ear, and his lips brush your sensitive neck as you whisper your drunken admission. "You looked sexy in that shirt. With your hair tied up."

Eddie's breath puffs against your throat, and you tip your chin, leaning into the warmth of his lips as he murmurs, "Don't think I didn't see you watchin' me all night, sweet girl."

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you giggle, biting your lip as his mouth presses to your neck, kissing softly, teasing you with the tip of his tongue. "Mm," you whimper again, wedging your hand beneath the waistband of his loose boxers. Your fingers brush the dense hair there, caressing it lightly as Eddie's hand dips into your panties. As one of his fingers presses between your folds to seek your clit, you grasp him, pulling until he pops from the fabric, head brushing red-hot against your abdomen. You stroke him once, then again as his finger teasingly circles your clit, catching the cinders in your belly aflame.

You press your hips into his touch, seeking more, but Eddie's finger retreats, brown eyes dancing with his tease as he goes back to touching you lightly. Well, two can play at that game. You nudge your nose against Eddie's, fingertips trailing to his tip, smiling slowly as you draw one fingernail feather-light across his slit.

His reaction is immediate— Eddie groans, his chest rumbling against yours as he bucks into your touch. You gasp as his finger dips abruptly lower, firm and decisive, hooking into your entrance without warning. It's a teaser for later, a little appetizer compared to the delicious stretch of Eddie's thick cock, but you hum nonetheless, pleased to be touched by him. 

Eddie moves his finger, pressing as deeply as possible from this angle. "You know you make me crazy when you do that," he murmurs quietly against your lips. 

"That's kinda the point," you tease, voice breathy as he continues to finger you. 

Eddie's manic smile lights his brown eyes from the inside. "Mmm," he hums approvingly before kissing you hard, tongue stroking yours as you moan into his mouth. You work each other for a while until you feel the bed shift beside you, considerable movements that draw your attention. You peer over Eddie to see that Chrissy and Steve are rearranging themselves: Steve's now lying flat, hazel eyes wide and eager as Chrissy crawls down his body. His hands find her hips as she ducks her head, taking him into her mouth as her pussy descends on his lips. 

Eddie glances over his shoulder briefly, pale neck stretching and inviting your lips. You nose beyond the curtain of his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his throat. When his chin nudges gently against your brow, and his hand finds your cheek, you sigh, leaning into his touch as he draws back to look at you.

"Hey," he murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear, "would you wanna try being on top? Would you like that?"

You blink, fighting your instinctual answer: no, you would not like that. It's a lot of work to squat and move that way for very long; your legs always start burning almost immediately, it seems. Plus, you feel very exposed on top, like your partner can see every jiggle. Your gaze darts between Eddie's calm brown eyes; you're torn between the desire to reject the idea outright and your slowly-burgeoning openness. 

Eddie seems to sense your hesitation as his face, which was already soft, softens even further before he presses a sweet kiss to your lips. His thumb rubs against your jaw, soothing you. "You don't have to say yes," he says, low and reassuring. "But when you're on top, you can go as fast or slow as you want. You can grind down on me. You'll be in control; it'll make it feel good for you."

You'd never thought about it that way before. Still, you hesitate, admitting, "I don't know if I can squat for that long."

Eddie's eyebrows crinkle, and you aren't sure if it's in confusion or sympathy. "You don't have to squat, sweetheart," he whispers. "You can just sit on me." 

You blink again, cheeks pinking. "Oh." It's a little embarrassing that you'd never thought of that, but Eddie's face is free of judgment as he waits patiently for your answer. And you suppose, with that clarified, that there's no real drawback if Eddie's to be believed. As fast or slow as you want, riding Eddie's thick cock… you feel a tingle as you think about it, pussy pulsing around his finger that's still inside you. You watch him lick his bottom lip as he feels it, and your excitement increases.

You're already near to accepting when Eddie adds, finger stroking you gently inside, "And I'll let you know when I'm about to cum so you can pull off me."

You imagine Eddie flushed beneath you, husky voice tight as he stares into your eyes and tells you, 'I'm gonna cum, sweetheart—'

A thrill races through you, and you can't suppress your whimper as those moth wings flutter wildly at the thought. Eddie's arm underneath you tightens, lips finding yours before you can answer. You moan into his eager mouth, and Eddie kisses you breathless until you pull away to gasp, "Yeah— yes. I wanna be on top."

His eyes brighten, and he kisses you one last time before dragging your panties from your hips. You work his boxers down, wiggling to assist him as you both chuckle, your mutual hastiness more of a hindrance than anything. Your bra follows, and soon enough, you're both bare; Eddie lays down flat on your bed, guiding you to sling a leg over his narrow hips.

You register the wet sounds beside you, glancing briefly to see Chrissy's head bobbing between Steve's legs and Steve's hands squeezing her ass as he eats her out. But your gaze quickly returns to the man beneath you: dark curls splayed against your duvet, eyes warmed to deep amber, pupils blown wide as you reach behind you, fingers searching blindly for his cock. You hold it up straight, squirming to find the right angle, and you watch Eddie swallow thickly once his head notches between your supple folds. His hands settle on your hips, raspy and warm as you take a deep breath.

And then you begin to lower down onto him.

Over the many weeks, you've grown used to the tight press of Eddie's cock, shorter but thicker than Steve's. Still, this angle renders that delicious slide even more intense, and you clamp your lips against a desperate whimper as you feel him stretch you open. His thumbs brush light circles against your lower belly to encourage you as you sink onto him. "Just go slow, sweetheart." Eddie's voice is hoarse but soft with concern as you engulf him, and you sigh, wings fluttering as you obey; you pause until the pinch fades. And then you sink down, and down, and down until you're flush with the dark snatch of curls at the base of his cock, which press deliciously against your swollen clit.

Eddie's inked chest rises and falls, head tipping back as you take him to the hilt. "Just move when you're ready," he says.

But Eddie doesn't know you're already ready.

You move your hips experimentally, breath catching as his thick length shifts inside you. His hands encourage your movements, kneading your hips as you test out what you like— rocking back and forth, making small circles, lifting up slightly to fall back onto him. Eddie provides gentle guidance until you discover what works best: a quick shifting of your hips, angled to press against your front wall, with just a bit of lift to feel the slide of his hot thickness within you. Your movements grow bolder, more confident— longer, faster motions that pique your pleasure. And you hear that low rumbling moan again as Eddie's plush lips part, dark eyes like liquid heat as he watches you. "That's it, pretty girl," he murmurs, and his smoky praise coils tight in your belly, stoking both your desire and those fluttering wings. 

Normally, being pinned with such an intent stare while you're on top— unable to keep your breasts from bouncing, nowhere to hide how your stomach is soft and your thighs are bigger than your partner's— would overwhelm you with self-consciousness. But Eddie's looking up at you with such desire that, in this moment, you feel as pretty as he says you are. 

Eddie's next comment is considerably less smooth. "Christ, your tits are just—" Eddie exhales sharply as if in disbelief, and his lips tilt in a goofy grin.

You quirk a brow, prompting him dryly. "Just what?" 

"Just, like… shit, I dunno. I just wanna bury my face in 'em." Eddie drags his hands up your body to cup your breasts, squeezing lightly before squishing them together. 

He watches how they move in his grip with such awestruck delight that you can't help but laugh, hips slowing as you're overcome with your amusement when he wobbles them playfully. "You laughin' at me, y/n?" Eddie huffs, though his eyes glint with mirth.

"No." You blink at him innocently, but you can't help yourself. A tiny smirk spreads as you say, more sensually, "I'm fucking you."

Eddie's eyes go wide, darkening immediately. "Hmm," he hums, hoarse and low with approval. He grins wolfishly, murmuring, "Yeah, you fuckin' are."

Your pussy pulses as you inhale his words, letting them fill you, rich and heady. Your hips move faster on Eddie's thick length, and you bite your lip when his thumbs brush over your nipples, flicking lightly, sparking pleasure that flares into flame inside you. You'd already realized that Eddie is vocal in bed— well, he's vocal all the time, really. But not only is he often humming, and moaning, and groaning out his pleasure; he also enjoys talking to you, watching the way his words affect you, how they build your pleasure. And you're learning that your words can do the same for him— that it's not just your body that can elicit the reactions you desire in Eddie.

And you want that now— to talk to Eddie the way he talks to you, to bring him pleasure through the silky caress of your voice. You glance to your right as you rock on Eddie's lap, feeling a little hesitant with Steve and Chrissy right next to you, especially Chrissy, who always seems to know exactly what she wants to say. But they're moaning into one another's skin, mouths occupied, bodies rocking in pleasure, eyes closed as they lavish one another. They seem adequately distracted— like they're too caught up in their own activity to notice what you're saying. And as you look down at Eddie again, your desire to increase his pleasure allows you to push past your hesitance.

You swallow, chewing on your lip as you consider what to say. When you finally decide, your voice is a little timid, but you're proud it doesn't shake. "Am I making you feel good?"

Eddie's husky groan is instant. "Yeah, sweet girl. You feel so good." 

You whimper as his response coils your pleasure tighter, making you burn hotter. You watch his head tip back to reveal the pale cords of his neck, plush lips parted, the rise of his chest deepening as he hears your sound; he drags his hands back down your body, clutching at your hips, hot fingers pressing into your flesh. Yes. You sigh, brow creased pleadingly as you stare down at Eddie, needing more of his reactions.

You're a little less timid now. "Mmm. You like being inside me?"

Eddie's fingers tighten even further; his voice is suddenly tight too. "Shit, yeah, I fuckin' like it." 

As he clutches you, you feel his legs shift beneath you, and your eyes widen in alarm, perch suddenly unsteady. But then his hips are thrusting, matching your rhythm, the quick drag—slide—lift—fall that now presses his cock deliciously harder into your pussy. You whimper again; pleasure flares as you glance behind you to see that Eddie has planted his feet so he can fuck up into you. He holds you securely, and you relax into his support, letting the flames build as you move together.

Your breath comes quick, pleasure twisting with the anticipation of what you will tell him next. Your voice is silky as your words flow from your lips. "I'm so wet. You make me so wet." 

Eddie groans, deep and low in his chest at your admission. And it's true— you can feel your slickness increasing, his cock gliding more easily as you fall heavily down onto him, clit dragging against his coarse dark curls. You're growing hot, muscles beginning to tighten with fatigue, but you barely notice— you just want to keep chasing Eddie's reactions and the feeling that's just starting to tingle low in your belly.

Your voice almost doesn't sound like you— it's breathy, airy as you caress him with more of your silk. "I wanna be a good girl for you." 

"Fuck—" Eddie grunts, words tumbling from his lips like they're racing to reach you as quickly as they can. "You're so good for me, sweetheart. Shit, that's it, you're taking me so well."

You're both moving faster now; Eddie's hips are slapping against your ass, and your breasts are bouncing, but you aren't thinking about that at all. All you're thinking about is how the press of his thick cock increases that tingle and brightens the flame within you. Genuinely, without trying, you say, "Feels so good, don't stop—"

Eddie's hands shift on your hips, grabbing tighter as he fucks up into you a little harder; you moan, chest heaving with deep breaths. And as that tingling grows more insistent, you want something to hold onto, to anchor you. So you clutch at Eddie's hands, wedging your thumbs underneath his palms, holding on tight to him. Eddie moans as he looks up at you, face flushed, bangs sweat-damp and beautifully soft against his forehead. You whimper, skin heating, tingling pleasure swelling in your belly, building gradually toward that familiar precipice you've only ever reached alone. And if Eddie would just keep moving like this, looking like this, doing exactly this, for just a little longer…

There's no affectation in your voice now— you're just raw, just genuinely needy for him. 

"Please," you beg, "please, don't stop, Eddie—"

"Oh shit, fuck—!"

And that's the only warning you get before Eddie starts to cum.

You gasp as you watch his brow pinch; his mouth falls open as the cords of his neck stretch, and his hips press up into you tightly, no longer moving. And as you feel Eddie's dick twitch violently inside you, you burst with wings that beat up through your belly to your chest, fluttering so wildly you're left reeling. 

You don't make any attempt to move off of him. You can't. You're frozen, rapt, attention honed to the feeling of Eddie's hips collapsing to the bed underneath you, to the way his muscles quiver with his release, to the noises he makes as you instinctively grind down on him, to the warm flood of the seed he fills you with. Eddie whimpers and moans, tight and high, and you don't realize it, but you're whimpering, too— crying out your yearning in a sound that approaches harmony.

The moment is just as breathtaking, just as captivating as you'd imagined it would be.

 When the twitching of Eddie's cock finally stills inside you, you're both left silent, breathing heavily, hands still nearly intertwined against your hips as you stare at one another wide-eyed. Your sexual pleasure has begun to fade, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is how Eddie is looking at you, how you're looking back at him. Hesitant. Tentative. 

Pink on black and white. Green from the bottom of you.

"Dude—!" The harshness, especially after the almost spell-like silence that had settled between you and Eddie, makes you jerk with surprise, adrenaline spiking in your chest. Your stomach swoops as you register Steve's face— nostrils flared, brow snarled low over thunderous hazel eyes locked on his friend. "What the actual fuck?"

Your eyes dart between them, wincing as Eddie's face blanches and his eyes go so wide as they meet your boyfriend’s gaze. "I—I'm sorry," he stammers, wrenching his hands from under yours as if he's been burned. "Fuck, I'm—" The pale of his face slowly fills with bright, furious red. "Shit—"  

Eddie drags his palms harshly over his face, shoulders scrunching toward his ears. "I'm so embarrassed," he muffles into his hands, leaving them there as if in a futile desire to hide. Your heart is hammering, panging with compassion for Eddie's distress just as much as it's thundering with the oppressive tension of this moment. Steve is so angry— angrier than you've seen him in a long time. Maybe ever. Because there were only two rules— two rules that you'd all sworn never to break. 

And Eddie has, very flagrantly, broken one. 

You look at Steve, wide eyes pleading, voice soft. "It's okay, Steve," you say, trying to diffuse the tension. "He didn't mean to. It was just an accident." 

Steve glances at you but doesn't reply, lip twitching as his gaze quickly flicks back to his friend. 

Eddie finally pulls his hands from his face. His bangs are mussed, brown eyes heavy with remorse as they dart almost reluctantly to Steve. Voice hoarse, cracked. Sincere. "I'm so sorry—"

"Yeah, you said that," Steve snaps, and your insides twist into knots at the uncharacteristic edge in his typically-smooth voice, the tension in his brow, the hardness of his handsome face. 

After a moment, Steve exhales harshly, both hands carding roughly through his hair; you can tell he's struggling with himself, fighting to keep under control. And as you're washed with the radiating force of his ire, feeling helpless to ease the situation, your chin begins to tremble; you avert your eyes as they sting with the sudden prick of tears. 

You know it's not your fault, not really. But you can't help but think that if you'd just gotten off when you felt Eddie start to cum, just moved, just done something— all of this could've been avoided.

The mattress dips beside you, and a soft arm wraps around your back. "Don't be mad, Steve," a powdery-soft voice says, calm and mild. A tender hand runs over your hair, soothing the sting of your tears before they can fall.

Steve sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face as Eddie had. He looks at you then, expression no longer hard, staring silently for a moment before he speaks. "It's fine," he says, voice utterly devoid of feeling. "Just go get cleaned up."

Not wanting to linger for even one more second, you hastily pull off Eddie's still-hard length, and Chrissy releases you as you clamber off the bed. You bite your lip as you retreat into the bathroom, feeling Eddie's cum trickle down your leg, still warm.

The closed door buffers you from the coldness of your bedroom, allowing you space to process what just happened— Steve's fury, Eddie's embarrassment, and most of all, the feeling that had bloomed within you when Eddie filled you with his release. You retrieve a towel, carefully wiping yourself, eyes avoiding the sticky mess that smears the cloth. When you examine your feelings, you're left feeling torn. Because you're acutely aware that Steve's upset, and his distress upsets you. But you're also acutely aware that the way you'd felt when Eddie came inside you was unmistakable.

You'd loved it. You'd loved every single second of it.

You clean yourself thoroughly, wavering for a while, hesitant to emerge and find that the situation has devolved in your absence. It's been quiet— no yelling, which is a good sign, but you can't be sure. Still, eventually, you can't delay it anymore, so you crack the door, chewing on your bottom lip as you emerge.

Steve is alone, sitting on the end of your bed, still naked. His head is bowed, but he glances up when he hears the bathroom door creak open. Tension releases when you see Steve's hazel eyes are now clear as he stands to meet you halfway. When he enfolds you in a soft embrace, you lean into him, brow pinching.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"No," Steve says firmly, arms tightening, holding you securely. "I'm sorry, y/n. You didn't do anything wrong. I know it was an accident. It happens." You release a shaky breath as his broad palm finds the back of your head, stroking slowly as he murmurs against your forehead. "I'm not mad at you," he says quietly, and the reassurance brings sweet relief.

Still, you have to ask; your voice is small when you do. "Are you mad at Eddie?"

Steve's answer comes slower this time. "No," he says eventually, almost begrudging, yet still honest.

You release the rest of your breath, hugging him tighter. "I love you," you say, muffled to the fur of his chest. 

You feel Steve's cheek against the top of your head. His voice isn't muffled, but it's quieter than yours. "Love you, too."

–

Your phone always buzzes past midnight, usually closer to one most days. But tonight, when it does, it's only half past eleven.

You've just come out of the shower, skin scrubbed free of sweat and cum, steam hanging heavy as you comb the tangles from your hair. The bzz-bzz against the bathroom counter immediately draws your eye, and your heart thumps at the name on your screen. There's no message text— just a tiny colored box that loops through a two-second animation.

You pull the towel tighter around your damp body and swipe the message open.

It's a gif, which is already entirely out of the norm for Eddie. But what makes you stare, face contorting slowly in a combination of deep incredulity and begrudging amusement, is that the gif depicts one of your favorite artists in her early years: Taylor Swift, donning black glasses as she holds her hand-drawn sign up to the windowpane with a little lopsided pout. The sign says 'Sorry' with a frowny face.

As Taylor pouts at you again and again, you bite back a hysterical giggle. It's the most utterly absurd 'apologies for cumming inside you when I wasn't allowed to' message that you could imagine— not that you have any experience on the matter. 

And, honestly? It's kind of perfect.

Your lips pull into a broad, eye-crinkling grin as you tap-tap-tap your message back. 'Here is your penance. You must listen to this in its entirety and render your verdict,' you write, sending the link for Bejeweled— the most anti-Eddie song you can think of from Taylor's newest album.

You go back to untangling your hair after you send it, already formulating your reply as you anticipate hearing back from him almost instantly, figuring he won't actually listen to it. But you have time to moisturize your face and arms before you hear your phone buzz again.

You swipe hastily with a knuckle, too impatient to wipe off your hands. Your eyes scan the message, and you huff, shaking your head as you read it. 'Catchy as fuck. I like the part where she says 'diamonds in my eyes' real slow on the offbeat.' And he's given it five diamond emojis out of five.

You're torn between amusement and sympathy at the over-generosity of his rating. You wipe off your fingers so you can reply. 'I know in truth that song burned your poor bard ears. But I appreciate your earnest appeal for my sympathy.'

You keep your phone in your hands, watching the dots linger on the screen for a long time before it finally comes through. 'You got me. I really am sorry, y/n. Hope Steve isn't mad at you.'

'He's not,' you assure Eddie. 'I asked him and he said he's not mad at you either. He knows it was an accident.'

'Thanks.' There's a pause, and then, 'Hope you're not mad at me, either.' Moth wings flutter, and you bite your thumbnail as you stare at the message for a moment before replying. 

'It's really okay.' You pause before you hit send, twisting your lips against a smile as you add, 'Kind of flattering, actually.'

Eddie's response makes you giggle. 'Quit teasing me. You're gonna make me blush.' He's made it too easy; you can't resist.

'You mean again?' you ask, adding a winky face.

An 'ugh' follows— all caps, punctuated with a period. You beam with delight, typing out your laughter before conceding. 'Sorry, couldn't resist. Okay, going to bed now. Night!'

You set down the phone to brush your teeth, glancing as it buzzes one final time. But you look back, eyes lingering once you register Eddie's final message. 'Sleep well, sweet girl.' You can nearly hear him say it; can nearly feel the rasp of his hand on your cheek as his smoke whispers against your skin. 

And as you snuggle down into your bed that night, your mind conjures the ghost of curls that brush your cheek, kissing you softly as you peacefully succumb to sleep.

[respectthepetty]

Looking through the unnecessary amount of images I have of Hidden Agenda for . . . reasons

Plant Daddies at Tea Time?

I just find it interesting that Zo and Joke put so much importance on each other's drinks.

Yellow Chrysanthemum represents slighted or neglected love and the taste of its tea is sweet.

Red Roselle represents romantic love or passion and the taste of its juice is sour.

Zo and Joke stick to those colors drinks always.

Even when the waiter puts them down wrong, Joke switches them.

Like, those are their colors drinks.

But next week, they switch.

Yet strangely, when they are painting, Zo has the yellow paint, and Joke has the blue paint with the red dinosaur.

A red dinosaur with blue paint?

Red and blue?

Red AND blue?

That's strange.

But this isn't about primary colors like Joke being red and blue while Zo is yellow.

Even though Zo is wearing a yellow shirt with a blue tie holding the yellow smiley face podium, and Joke is wearing a blue shirt with a red tie as he stands in between the red and blue background in their music video.

No! It's about drinks.

It's not about how Zo unknowingly keeps ending up in the red with Joke.

Even though they started in blue.

And maybe it's morphing from blue to red because Joke's feelings evolved.

Because it can't be about the colors when I already thought Joke and Zo were light versus dark colored since the trailer.

So . . .

THIS IS NOT ABOUT THE COLORS!

It's about the drinks.

The red and yellow drinks.

[putschki1969]

【Asakusa】 Walking by Myself and Eating

Hello, this is Hikaru. Thank you for watching! This time, I did another video for my "Walking by Myself and Eating Series" 🚶‍♀️‍➡️ I tried all the things that interested me in Asakusa until I was full😋 The weather was nice, I was happy to enjoy the scenery and eat delicious food. If you have any recommended food in Asakusa, please let me know 🍀 Please leave your video suggestions in the comment section📝 [Introduced food] ・Asakusa Sakura: Melonpan ・Asakusa Ichigoza: Strawberry Japanese black tea ・Asakusa Minced Meat: Asakusa minced meat ・Kaede: seaweed dumplings ・FRITES BRUGES: black truffle & mushroom

【MUJI】 Introducing Purchased Items

Hello, this is Hikaru. Thank you for watching! This time, I will be introducing products purchased from MUJI 🛍️ I put stuff from the food corner that caught my interest in my cart and ended up spending about 5,000 yen ...😂 Please let me know your recommended Muji products🍀If you have any video suggestion, please leave them in the comment section📝 [Introduced items] ・Gimbap: Vegetable Namul & Cheese Dakgalbi ・Spring Vegetable/Mushroom Soup & Vegetable/Seaweed Soup ・Shrimp Bisque & Cream of Edamame Soup ・Scallop and Shrimp Bisque Curry ・Mentaiko Cream Soup ・Pasta Sauce Truffle Cream ・Scallop & Kombu Seaweed/Salmon Maitake Mushroom Rice Kit ・Dried Sweet Potato ・Pasta snacks: Sour Cream Onion flavor & Clack Pepper flavor ・Kimchi Flavour Mini Ramen

Rehearsal for Upcoming Harvest Festival

Hikaru is busy preparing for her appearance in a harvest music festival this May. Tweet by Hikaru

Title: 麦ノ秋音楽祭2024 #Harvest (Mugi no Autumn Music Festival #Harvest) Date: May 12 (Sun) Venue: COEDO Craft Beer Brewery (Saitama) Website: https://muginotokiongakusai.jp/2024harvest/

“JUMP OUT ” LIVE vol.#3 Rehearsals

Hikaru and Keiko have also been meeting up regularly to rehearse for their upcoming "JUMP OUT" event. They went to a place called "REM's Greek Yogurt" in Roppongi.

Title: 『FJ Family presents～“JUMP OUT” LIVE vol.#3～』 [Date and Time] May 6, 2024 Open 16:30 / Start 17:30 [Venue] Tokyo Kinema Club (東京キネマ倶楽部) [Ticket] 7,700 yen / 8.800 yen (+drink fee) [Appearing artists] KEIKO・Hikaru・rito・LINO LEIA

[wetratheadcanons]

some battinson headcanons cause i still think about him almost a year later but 60% is actually just me projecting onto him

is autistic (obviously), but also has adhd

he also deals with intrusive thoughts, it's why his no-kill-policy is so important to him

loves video games, obscure internet lore and horror - especially analog horror and found footage

his favourite games are project deepweb, he solved it in just a little under 2 hours, and vampyr, he always plays the pacifist run despite it being harder

has a whole wall dedicated to the five nights at freddy's lore, scott cawthorne might be his biggest enemy

absolute animal magnet despite being kinda terrified of all of them

can't go anywhere that has animals because they're immediately flocking to him

the whole "introvert at a party finds the dog" - situation but instead the dog finds bruce and refuses to leave

ace was the first animal bruce wasn't ever really scared of, alfred thinks he may have been trained to be a psychiatric service dog prior to his adoption

wherever bruce is in the tower, ace isn't far away, his presence calms bruce

prefers loud music, he doesn't like being alone in his head too much and the noise helps him

apart from nirvana and my chemical romance, his favourite bands are ghost and ice nine kills because he likes their consistent themes

selina gifted him a pair of pink cat-ear headphones once and they're the only pair he ever wears at home

he claims it's just because they're comfortable but everyone knows it's because he loves them

eats when he's hungry but rarely at specific times, it doesn't make sense to him

he can't really eat after waking up

doesn't eat meat, he feels like it lies too heavy in his stomach

he also doesn't like the smell of cooked meats or fish

he loves sour fruits and has a mild sweet tooth

has a caffeine addiction but he doesn't like the taste of coffee, prefers black and green tea (to alfred's delight) and energy drinks (to alfred's horror)

he's trans ftm who is either gay or bi with a preference for men (he doesn't know and doesn't care to find out)

selina and him never went further than their kiss, bruce will always put gotham before anything else (until dick comes along) and selina needs a freedom that he can't give her

they also both realised it was a spur of the moment thing since they barely knew each other at that time and found they're better off friends

they're co-parenting a kitten though it's adorable really

bruce found her half dead on patrol one night and called selina in a panic about what to do, they named her chewy

ace loves chewy, she sleeps on his head, bruce has an entire folder on his phone dedicated to pictures of them

had a robin hood phase when he was 6, tried to steal from his parents to give to people in need

alfred continually reminds him of this after he takes in dick

his favourite rogue is ivy, they have important conversations (as in ivy talks and bruce hngs) about climate change while bruce tries to stop her from murder

he implements policies build after her ideals into wayne enterprise

his respect for her rises after she gets together with harley

for all that he fights it, he can't sleep without the sound of gotham - which includes gotham typical crime

he thrives when he's alone, it's how he does his best work, be it batman or wayne enterprise

has trouble admitting defeat, dick joining him as robin helped him in that department a great deal

is pierced. he did almost all of them himself, alfred has a heart attack everytime he spots a new one

the public has a weird badboy image of him, bruce has no idea where it came from

doesn't bruise easily but is still constantly in pain

has an absolute shit posture, social anxiety and crime fighting don't help

sleeps in the worst positions humanly possible

has a weird thing about mirrors, avoids them as much as he can

doesn't give interviews ever, it's part being a social recluse, part everything the press did to his parents, part hating to be perceived

has troubles with empathy, but his compassion makes up for it in great detail

dick uses him as a jungle gym, he pretends to be annoyed but secretly loves it

when bruce is working on cases in the cave, dick hangs head down off of bruce's back with his legs over bruce's shoulders

dick claims it helps him think, bruce knows it's because he doesn't want to be alone

bruce loves the relationship dick and selina have, might be a little jealous that cat got through to the boy much faster than him though

after taking in dick, bruce makes sure to show alfred that he actually does see him as a father figure - regrets all the times he told him that alfred's not his father

that's all i have for now

[shadowetienne]

9 people I would like to get to know better

I was tagged by the wonderful @guzhu-furen, thank you!

last song: OnlyOneOf's Rie's cover of Lauv's "Steal the Show" (has been slightly on repeat)

favorite color: green and yellow

last movie/tv show: Bump Up Business

currently watching: nothing really, music videos, I don't watch a lot of movies or TV shows, it is a lot of effort for me

sweet/spicy/savory: spicy, though savory/salty and sour are solid too. I'm not much of a sweets person

relationship status: married for over 10 years to my wonderful queerplatonic partner, theoretically polyamorous, but in practice that hasn't had much relevance

current obsession: OnlyOneOf, among many others; figure skating because the season is happening right now

last thing i googled: the USPS package tracking site

Low pressure tag: @yongsooist, @atinystraykid, @cyanidecravings, @catboyjunhyung, @lesbianhanguangjunji, @qazastra, @224-12, @sehnisweet, @sapphonoticeme, @rieloving-mess, @doxophobic and anyone else who sees this and thinks it looks fun!

[solsty-wolsty]

thirty alternatives to s3lf-h*rm

Scribble on photos of people in magazines

Tear apart some paper, really mess it up into tiny lil bits

Write your feelings on a piece of paper then rip, burn, or bury it

Run your hands under cold water

Snap a rubber band or hair tie against your wrist

Splash your face with cold water

Take a nice hot shower/bath

Write, paint, or doodle on yourself

Count the # of (object) in the room you're in

Play an instrument

Write out lyrics to your favorite song(s)

Browse some online shopping websites

Learn to swear in another language

Go outside and cloud/stargaze

Reorganize your room

Buy a cuddly toy

Watch a comfort movie or TV show

Eat something ridiculously sweet, sour, or spicy

Just let yourself cry

Crunch ice in your mouth

Feel your pulse in your neck or wrists (it proves that you're alive!!!)

Calling up a friend/family member (you don't need to tell them what's going on if you don't want, just talking to someone in general helps)

Punching a pillow/stuffed animal really hard...like srsly fuck that bitch up

Blast some loud ass music

Go on a bike ride/walk (if you live in a safe neighborhood)

Color in a coloring book (even better if it's one of those cheap kids ones)

Play a video game (ones like shooters or ones that really let you burn off some steam are the best ones for this)

Take some pictures of nature (even if it's through your window)

Make some time to hang out with a friend

Make a hot drink and cuddle up in your lil bed like the cozy lil guy you are

these are just the ones that I could think of off the top of my head that have really helped me in the past. Hope this helps y'all and remember that you're never alone hon :)

[thebangtancloud]

Hi! I hope you're taking requests and are doing well! Can I get a reaction to BTS hearing you giggle in your sleep then you wake up giggling/laughing softly and then when you look at them you tell them "I had the funniest dream ever, I woke up by own laugh" this literally just happened and I can't help but to wonder

He catches you giggling in your sleep ~ BTS Reactions

A/n: AHHH this happens to me so often and my mum has a few recordings of me on her phone where I'm simply laughing in my sleep lol

Kim Namjoon:

Eyes widening in surprise, Namjoon placed his book down and bent over to see you quietly laughing into your hand.

"You awake?" He smiled fondly when you turned around to face him. Your eyes were red and swollen from the sleep that you had just woken up from, a sheepish look on your face when you nodded.

"You won't believe what I dreamt of," you spoke with wonder in your eyes, immediately sitting up and moving to fit between him and the couch. "I woke myself up because of my own laugh."

"What did you dream of?" Namjoon chuckled at the way you still couldn't stop giggling, gently brushing away some hair that was stuck to the side of your face.

"I dreamt of Yoongi in the 'That That' music video - that scene where he flies in? I guess I was watching from somewhere when you suddenly appeared and started doing the dance yourself," you laughed humorously, raising two hands in the shape of guns so as to imitate how you had seen him in your dream.

"Oh really?" Najoon guffawed at your description. "Was it so funny?"

"I mean," you sniffed, "you were trying really hard with those hip thrusts."

"Sweet Lord," Namjoon rolled his eyes. "I don't know where you get such dreams from."

"I'm known for my wild imagination," you giggled softly, snuggling into the warmth of his embrace which he easily pulled you into.

"Your imagination better be about me only."

"You're the only reason why I wake up from my dreams, bubba." You assured him with a kiss on his hand.

"You're even better in real life than you are in my dreams."

Kim Seokjin:

Just when Jin was about to pop another sour candy into his mouth, your giggle caught his attention. He briefly looked over at you who were sitting in the passenger seat with your head against the window, the softest smile on your face.

Jin laughed to himself when he realized you must be dreaming about something funny, looking back at the road and continuing to munch on his candy with an enamored smirk on his face.

Your giggle somehow woke you up, turning to face Jin with an embarrassed laugh and sleep in your eyes.

"Shit, did you see that?"

"Sure did, babe." He offered you an orange strip of candy.

"I woke up by my own laugh," you mumbled in embarrassment, chuckling along with Jin nonetheless. Jin pulled his sunglasses back down onto the bridge of his nose, briefly looking into the rearview mirror before turning back to face you.

"Slept well?"

"Yeah," you nodded lightly. "My neck hurts though."

"You were in a weird position," Jin pointed to the window. "But you seemed to be having good dreams, no?"

"Right," you chuckled, not knowing how to explain the dream to him.

"It was so funny, I remember laughing so hard in my dream and the next thing I know, I'm laughing loud enough to wake up by it."

Jin nodded knowingly with a grin on his face. "I've experienced that a few times too."

"It's embarrassing that you saw me, though."

"Don't be embarrassed. You looked as cute as ever, a bonus point for me. I love hearing you laugh, my stomach...I don't know. Something topples and turns in there when you laugh."

"Must you still flirt with me after all these years we've been together?"

"You'll be saying this on the day you turn sixty too, wait and watch."

Min Yoongi:

Yoongi sniffled in his sleep, feet stretching and toes curling with a little squeak that came from him. His arms rose about his head, absentmindedly scratching his scalp when a little laugh floated towards him.

Yoongi immediately turned over onto his stomach and covered his face, thinking you were up to mischief and recording videos of his face, but then you fell absolutely silent.

Peaking out from the safety of his pillow, Yoongi looked at you lying on your stomach as well, both palms lying flat on the mattress and a little smile on your mouth. Yoongi looked puzzled, raising his head higher to take a better look at you when you suddenly began to chuckle to yourself in your sleep.

Pursing his lips into a tight line to hold back his own laugh, Yoongi raised himself up onto his elbow and rested his head on his hand, looking at you sleeping beside him. He laughed silently when you were laughing and when your eyes suddenly opened and stared off into the distance, Yoongi fell back against the bed and began cackling like a wild goose, clutching onto his stomach which was hurting from how hard he was laughing.

"I had the funniest dream ever," you covered your face in embarrassment, your shoulders trembling with the giggles that you were trying to hide.

"I could clearly see," Yoongi sighed loudly after calming down from his laughing fit. "Damn, you looked possessed."

"Gee, thanks Yoongi. You don't even want to know how you looked in my dream."

"Oh, you were dreaming about me?" Yoongi looked over cautiously. "What was it about?"

"I'll save that for a time I'm in the mood to annoy you."

Jung Hoseok:

Hoseok rushed for his phone with just a towel around his waist, water still dripping from his wet hair onto the floor, but he couldn't miss this opportunity to record you laughing in your sleep.

Opening the camera on his phone, Hoseok took a few pictures before he began to record you curled up into a ball, your fingers clutching the pillow as you began to laugh lightly, still in your sleep.

Tiny giggles left Hoseok's mouth, stretching his leg onto the bed and balancing on his knee to get a better view.

"Aigo, look at this cutie," Hoseok cooed in a whisper behind the camera, wanting to pinch your cheeks but also not wanting to wake you up. A few seconds later, you woke up mid-laughter, looking across at Hoseok who immediately lowered the camera, not wanting you to catch him recording you.

"Hobi," you caught his arm and began to laugh even harder, eyes scrunching shut at something you'd seen in your dream.

"What did you see?" Hoseok wondered with a bright grin, swooping some of his hair that was falling into his eyes back over his head. "You were laughing so hard."

"You-" you couldn't get out any words, clutching your stomach and yelping in pain, "Ah!"

"What, what? What did you dream of?"

"You came home with a mask and showed me- oh gosh, I'll never forget the look on your face! You said the stylist messed up your look and suddenly you had a mustache only on one side of your face!"

Hoseok almost snorted, totally imagining the scenario in his head before sitting on the bed, shrieking at how weird he must've looked in your dream.

"What the heck!"

"It was so funny, Hobi! I literally woke up laughing and you were right there! I thought you were so embarrassed that you shaved off the rest of your mustache too!"

"I don't even have a mustache, (Y/n)," he deadpanned, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at you before leaping forward and crushing you in a hug.

"You think I look too funny, huh? Come, let me tickle you and make you laugh some more!"

"AH!"

Park Jimin:

Jimin lay in bed beside you with nothing but a pair of shorts, his phone in his hand, scrolling through the internet and waiting for Taehyung to come online so that they could play together.

Mindlessly liking a few posts, Jimin sighed, utterly bored and hungry. He placed his phone down on the bed and turned to face you, a little smile immediately tugging at his lips.

You were laying on your back, face turned towards him and a pillow in between your legs, a lopsided grin stretching the side of your mouth.

Your eyebrows faintly rose, before you moved towards him completely, pulling your knees higher up and giggling lightly. Jimin was fascinated, to say the least, holding in his laughter for as long as he could until a hand reached up to cover your mouth.

"Oh my god," you laughed to yourself, shrinking further into a ball and covering your face. "That was the funniest dream ever!"

"Yeah?" Jimin chuckled at your reaction. "What was it?"

Instead of responding, you turned onto your back and began to laugh again, deflating into a sigh and staring at the ceiling above you.

"Did I really just laugh out loud?"

"You did." Jimin couldn't help but chortle at the look of realization on your face, his shoulders bouncing with every laugh that bubbled out of him.

"I'm embarrassed now," you mumbled under your breath, shaking your head ever so slightly. "I didn't know I'd end up laughing in real life too."

"What was the dream about?"

You slammed a pillow right over your face.

"I'll tell you when I'm done being embarrassed."

Kim Taehyung:

"Aye," Taehyung whispered gently to get Yeontan to stay still in his arms. "Don't move bubba, I might hurt you."

Taehyung delicately held his paw within his grip, spreading his toes and applying some of the antiseptic cream onto the inflamed skin.

Both Yeontan and Taehyung turned towards the couch when your giggle floated towards them. Before Taehyung could react, Yeontan leaped out of his arms, running across towards you and standing up against the couch thinking you were awake and ready to play with him.

Taehyung soon followed, covering the short distance by crawling over and smiling fondly down at you who were holding the cushion against your chest, a light grin playing at your lips. Taehyung wanted to pull Yeontan back when he saw the little one attempting to jump on top of the couch and onto you, but when you began to laugh gently in your sleep, Taehyung paused and simply stared at you, thoroughly enamored.

Your eyes opened within a few seconds, jerking back in surprise when you spotted Yeontan not even a few inches away from your face. Taehyung began to laugh at your reaction, placing an assuring hand over your thigh when you jumped up.

"It's funny that I was dreaming about Yeontan and he was right there when I woke up," you murmured lazily, looking at Taehyung with a small grin. "Hi!"

"Hi, bubba." Taehyung touched the side of your face gently. "Had a good nap?"

"Oh, I did," you giggled, picking Yeontan up who just never seemed to get tired. "When did you get home?"

"About an hour ago."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" you pouted.

"I love watching you sleep," Taehyung smirked, squeezing your cheeks and giving you a little kiss. "You looked so cute laughing in your sleep. I bet you were dreaming about me."

"I just told you I was dreaming about Yeontan. He's more important to me," you teased.

"I'm going to pretend you never said that."

Jeon Jungkook:

"Oh shit," Jungkook gasped under his breath when another intense scene played on the TV, his eyes wide and focused, hands clenched into fists at the tension. "He's behind you, idiot!"

Jungkook briefly turned and placed a hand over your ear in fear that the sound of the TV would wake you up, frowning in concentration and looking back at the screen when the main character suddenly turned but the ghost disappeared.

Jungkook almost felt the hair on his arms stand when he heard a giggle, and he could've sworn it was from the TV, but soon the sound increased and your face began to shake lightly under his palm.

He looked down at you whose face was snuggled into his thigh, shoulders shaking a little and half of your lopsided grin on display. Your eyes opened not even a moment later, staring blankly at nothing before continuing to laugh at something you probably must've seen in your dream.

"Hi, baby," Jungkook grinned down at you when you turned to look at him. You waved sleepily, little giggles still pouring out of you.

"I had the funniest dream ever, I was laughing so much and I guess I woke up by my own laugh."

"Oh really?" Jungkook smiled, running his thumb along your eyebrow. "Wanna tell me about it?"

"No," you shook your head, kissing the inside of his palm before turning over and pulling another pillow closer to your chest.

"I want to finish that dream and see who gets the orange in the bucket."

"What?" Jungkook laughed in confusion, bending over and laying half of his body over yours. "What orange?"

"The ones near the apples, Jungkook," you mumbled stupidly as if the was the most obvious thing in the world. "You made them dance on those horses, no?"

"Sleep," Jungkook giggled, shaking his head and patting your back. "You're making no sense."

"No, you're holding them. Give them to me so that I can sleep."

"Okay, baby."

BTS Reactions Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Request a reaction if you’d like :)

[captainstarcruiser]

Vanguard Guardian OC Description

Name: Crimson-9

Nicknames: Crimson, Crim, Red, 9, or (Gambit title) Red Dot.

Pronouns: He/Him

Class: Exo Hunter

Subclass: Solar/Golden Gun and Stasis/Silence and Squall

Ghost: Bun.3 (pronounced Bunny) her shell is the Year of the Rabbit Shell.

Revival spot: EDZ Forest

Age: 25 (29 after revival)

Personal Trinket: MP4 made with salvaged Golden Age technology and these enemies: Fallen, Cabal, Vex.

Preferred Tools of Trade:

Häkke Brand

Suros Brand

Heliocentric QSc

Ammit AR2

Breakneck

Come to Pass

Coronach-22

IKELOS_HC_v1.0.3

IKELOS_SR_v1.0.3

IKELOS_SMG_v1.0.3

Herod-C

Albruna-D

Crux Termination IV

Tarnation

Hullabaloo

Half-Truth

The Other Half.

Exotic Favorites:

Sunshot

Borealis

Suros Regime

Forerunner

Monte Carlo

Ace of Spades

Hardlight

Polaris Lance

Quicksilver Storm.

Bio: Known as the Exo Hunter Crimson-9, he spent time with Cayde-6 on and off the field in order to learn his tricks and skills for the field. He usually sticks to the Hunter groups due to sharing more in common with them. From time to time he works with other classes when he's looking to make quick glimmer or resources for his purchases.

He enjoys music and food more than any exotic he's gathered.

Especially from a hole in the wall diner in the city run by an Exo and Awoken couple, known popularly as The Grease Bucket. They make the thickest, greasiest, and tastiest burgers and chili-cheese fries in the whole city.

As for Crim's taste in music, he has a collection that spreads down to the oldest traces of music, before the Traveler and Golden Age. He loves old school jazz, death metal, dubstep, and for his usual meditation sessions: Japanese Hot Spring Music.

Crimson-9 has a troubled past, involving the Red War and his time being lightless. Eventually his team ended up leaving him behind during a raid on the moon in the Hive sector. His only way to cope with the memory is his music, and meditation.

He hates Hive, with a seething passion. Anything that resembles the Hive, causes his mood to sour. Once he leapt onto a giant Hive Knight Boss and stabbed it in the head over and over till it fell, just because his team took too long to kill it.

The time he spent wandering the Hive zones after his fireteam abandoned him caused him to have nightmares of his time down there. Some nights it's just him being chased by cursed thrall, but the worst is when a curse of Hive decay slowly overtakes his body. He picks at and cracks off all the growing decay till he sees his face fall apart into a hideous ugly screaming thrall.

His likes:

The Grease Bucket

Modded MP4

Music

Pet Ginger Cat named Amber

Dancing

Meditation

Side Arms

Hand Cannons

Spending time with people

Drawing citizens of the Last City

Video Games

His Ship: Mayfly

Collecting every shader he can find

Collecting Gemstones

Collecting Sparrows and Skimmers.

His dislikes:

Hive

Bugs

Spicy and Bitter Stuff

Screams of Pain

Wasting Resources

Arc attacks

Raw Tomatoes

He had a strong silent type of demeanor, usually because he is listening to his music or focused on the battle. He'll open up if you offer food, a clone of your music for his collection, and his favorite drink at the Glimmer Glint Bar, which is a Sweet Wish Stasis, named after a famous Hunter who used Ahamkara-Stasis based weapons on their battles.

He had a secret nerdy when he's happy and philosophical side when he feels melancholy about the entire situation of the Earth.

If you talk to him about cats, music, food, weapons, or animals then he's ready to talk your ear off.

He's Pansexual, and a very tender lover. He knows which buttons to press, and loves seeing his partners reactions. From a cute moan to a squeal, it makes him feel warm when he hears his partner is being satisfied. If you treat him well, show some interest, and try to keep in contact often he'll stay loyal regardless of class or rank.

The only challenge you'll have when around him, is not dying from how critical Bun.3 gets when he's being himself.