#(chortles to myself in author)

[sanguinarysanguinity]

WIP Wednesday

The beginning of an as-yet-untitled The Flight of the Heron thing I’m working on...

~

Someone shook the bed, jostling Ewen and causing the ache in his head to swell into a roar. He groaned in protest, but that, too, caused his head to hurt -- and then his uncourteous bedmate jostled the bed again, making Ewen, his stomach still uncertain from last night's drink, feel like he was on a pitching sea.

"For God's sake, stop that!" Ewen protested, and his bedmate was blessedly still.

But not, however, silent.

"Ardroy?" he asked.

An English voice. There were not many English among the Prince's entourage, making the identity of his bedmate a puzzle -- a puzzle his inebriated brain struggled valiantly to pick at, despite Ewen's overwhelming desire to return to sleep. But a moment later, sleep departed forever. In a wash of cold horror, he recognised the voice: Captain Windham, lately of the garrison holding Edinburgh Castle.

In his haste to wake and find his sword, Ewen fell out of bed.

[violetsiren90]

Make Me

Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut; platonic(?) fluff; BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom (and such a good one); MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play if you squint; mentions of wet dreams and sexual fantasies; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling in a domination context; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace but also the absolute best; Hobi in the studio 👀; wrestling (sexual context); spanking (sexual context); p*ssy-stepping; p*ssy slapping; sexual frustration; some initial shame and embarrassment (reader needs to work some things out); reader tries to run away from herself a bit; temporary ghosting; working through new desires and feelings; dirty dancing; ALL the communication; establishment of sexual roles/partnership; talk about birth control and protection; Hobi curses a LOT during domination scenes; leash/collar play; oral sex (male receiving); throat fucking; Hobi slaps Reader's tongue with his c*ck; cum swallowing; aftercare; restraint play (sex swing, heehee 😈); manual clitoral stimulation; teasing; unprotected vaginal sex (reader is on birth control & previously consents); female orgasm from vaginal penetration; very brief implication of a possible brush with subspace.

Word Count: ~16,000 (Double its originally intended length, oops 🙈)

Author's note: HOLY HECK IT'S FINALLY HERE. When I say I had the time of my life writing this...like, wow. I was already under Hobi's spell, but now I am OFFICIALLY down in the worst way. This fic and its premise were completely out of my comfort zone, but I couldn't be happier that I ventured into this world, because the research alone has given me so much respect for the BDSM community, and specifically the dom/sub relationship. I hope I did as much justice to that very special dynamic as possible between these two characters (with whom I have deeply fallen in love). If you read this, I hope so very much that you enjoy it!

If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Acknowledgements: The biggest of thanks to @orchidyoonkook who not only beta-read this fic multiple times, and is practically the voice of this Jimin, but also gave me so much wonderful insight into the BDSM community from that big sexy brain of hers (which contains an incredible amount of knowledge about so many things, let me tell you!). But most of all, she gave me the encouragement I needed to get this out of my imagination and onto the page, even when I was doubting myself the most. Yoons, I love you! Couldn't have done it without you. 💕

"What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

     You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

     "Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

     The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair. 

     "Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes. 

You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

     Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

     You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

     "Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

     He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

     "He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me." 

     At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech. 

Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening. 

You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath. 

     Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down.

It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

     "Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

     "I told him…

“What?”

“I said..."

     "What?"

     "Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

     You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come. 

You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried. 

Did you just fuck things irrevocably up? 

That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit. 

Shit.

     "Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

     He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

     "Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

     You don't answer him. You can't.

Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his gray sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

    "Is it?"

    You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him - standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

     "Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

     He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bear.

     "You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

     He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

     "...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

     "Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

     You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

     "Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?" 

     "When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

     But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom - 

     "When you're a filthy, pathetic little slut."

     A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together – whether to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure. When he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes flutter frantically open. 

     "Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?"

Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long – something that yearns to feed.

     You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

     "I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins. 

His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want – your friend. 

Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

     "Y-yes! Yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

     So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body.

You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.  

     "A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his saccharine words.

     You blink, your mind running up against the sudden pet name – one that he has never uttered in a tone like this before – as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous. Something simple maybe...a flower...?

     "Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

     "Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever – okay? You say that. Foxglove." 

     You nod.

     "Say it for me," he whispers, and you shiver again. Fuck.

     "Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

     "Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

     You scramble to find your voice.

     "Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

     He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

     "I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

     He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

     "See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

  He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

     "Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

     "No, Hobi," you whisper. 

And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

     "That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

     You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and absolutely exhilarating.

When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want.

You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

     "You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

     "Make me."

     His eyes go wide and wild.

     "So that's how it's gonna be?"

     The words are heavy and dark, but you think his mouth twitches up at the corner when you arch a recalcitrant brow in response.

     He hums and licks his lips, and you're on the verge of saying something about getting on with it when his hand darts out and fists a chunk of your hair, yanking it back with a force that makes your head spin. He's glaring down at you with eyes so hard and menacing that your rebuttal dies on your tongue. The hand at your nape squeezes and the pressure that seers your scalp is exquisite, spilling a moan from your lips as your arousal becomes more than you are capable of repressing.

     "Don't you challenge me, brat," he rumbles from low in his chest as his hand twists against your head and lowers your back to press against the black leather.

     You whine in protest, and your palms fly up to shove at him, but his reflexes are like lightning as he snatches your wrists away to pin them above you. Your head spins, eyes losing focus as your whole body flushes with warmth in the wake of his domineering aggression. 

     You wriggle in his hold, relishing in how his grip tightens and the cold steel in his eyes glints as you resist him.

     A knee slides between your legs as he leans over you menacingly, close enough for the padlock charm around his neck to lightly tap your raised chin. Good girl, it seems to whisper in Hoseok's voice, stay put.

     Yeah, fuck that.

     You snatch the necklace up between your teeth and yank it to the side where it bites sharply into the corner of your mouth.

     The sudden motion catches him off guard and he falters, crashing down on top of you with a noise of surprise and losing control of your hands.

     You scramble against him, rolling both of you to the floor with a thud.

     Your heart is hammering in your chest.

     You hear him grunt, his strong hands grappling with your thrashing form, and you catch just a glimpse of his shining eyes and white clenched teeth as he flips you over onto your stomach, hands in a vice grip at the small of your back and your cheek pressing into the cold, hard laminate.

     You start to move again but he pushes his weight into the slender fingers splayed over your spine with a low rumble in the back of his throat and you still with a groan.

     You're pressed so deliciously firmly to the floor. You can feel arousal soaking your panties as your nerves alight everywhere he has wrested control of you. You can hear him pant, proof of his efforts, and the image of his provoked expression from seconds previous flashes through your mind.

He seemed so cool and collected before. So unbothered. To think that his blood is up and because of you? You let out a trembling breath.

     "Fuck," he hisses lowly, then bends to bring his lips to the shell of your ear.

They're soft as they drag over your skin there, feather light. Your whole body shakes, and you feel his mouth pause.

     "I don't know who the hell you think you are," he whispers cruelly, "But you were right about one thing...you're not a good girl. You're a disobedient little harlot who needs to be taught the rules of this house." 

      You whimper pathetically as he presses into you even more intensely, restricting the expansion of your lungs.

     "Now," he says nosing at your exposed neck as he begins to pull away, "how about we teach you a lesson or two, hm?"

     You feel his weight leave your back, and see his figure rock back on his heels out of the corner of your eye. You are just on the verge of retaliating again when you let out a yelp at the sudden shock of your hips being yanked upward by the back belt loop of your denim shorts. Hoseok lets go of your hands and they fly forward to brace yourself as your ass raises into the air and your knees move toward your chest.

     And all at once you know what's coming and you feel your pussy clench in the mere anticipation of -

     Smack!

     You let out a wanton wail as the sharp crack of his hand against your right glute jolts through your body like a lightning strike and ends with a slam at your swollen clit.

     Again - harder! Your mind screams. So you press out a whinging moan of complaint.

     SMACK!

     It has the desired effect.

     CRACK!

     Your jaw is slack, but no sound escapes as he punishes you. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts. As if he's attempting to brand your ass with the shape of his hand. But holy hell is it making you drip. Every slap jolts your body and brings the tiniest friction to where you're neediest. Where you've never been needier in your life.

     Please punish my pussy....

     You try to mumble the words but all you can do is drool onto the floor as he deals out pleasure and pain from above.

     And then he stops. You feel hands deftly and swiftly rolling you to lie on your back.

You blink up through bleary eyes, drawing a hand across your mouth to wipe the spit away. Your shoulders are sore.

     He's leaning over you, a hand still on your hip, eyes scanning your face.

     "What? Did you say something? You need to speak up."

     His tone is still biting but his eyes seem to hold a genuine question. Concern.

     Warmth floods your chest as it registers that he wants to be able to hear you if you need him to. If you want to stop. But the light has never been so goddamned green.

     "Want..." you murmur, "...more, Hoseok."

     He curses, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he leans forward to take your jaw in his hand again. He rakes his gaze over your soft, swollen features, unfocused eyes, and heaving chest.

     "Look at you so fucked out and all I did was smack that gorgeous ass." 

     He licks his lips, shaking his head in seeming disbelief as he releases your chin with a little shove. He leans back, dragging his hands over your bare thighs.

    "More, hm?" he hums. 

     You nod eagerly.

     He purses his lips and considers you through narrowed eyes, and you sense that if you want him to give you what you so desperately desire, you're going to have to show him you can take it - and take orders. You lay still, hands twitching at your sides as you look up at him through wide eyes. 

     He continues to run his fingertips up and down your legs as he breathes out a long relenting sigh.

     "Alright," he relents, "You took your punishment well, so you should be rewarded, I suppose."

     You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, your heart rate rising again at the prospect.

     He tilts forward, looming over you again as he asks the question you've been dying to answer since you woke up breathless all those weeks ago.

     "What does my little brat want me to do to her? Let's see if she can use her words."

     You blink up at him, unsure if you have permission to speak...or how to put your request into words that won't make you want to immediately melt through the floorboards.

     "Cat got your tongue?" Hoseok sneers, pretty, heart-shaped lips curling up at one side.

     His hat discarded in your tussle, wavy brown tresses hang down over his brow and his eyes sparkle darkly through them. His features are so beautiful - their loveliness thrown into sharp relief by the flinty pitilessness of their expression.

     You're tempted to continue simply soaking him in, if not for the pounding ache in your core demanding that you find your voice.

     "I...I want..." your lips tremble as you will yourself to tell him what you need.

     Perhaps he senses that you require a little encouragement, because his eyes harden and he digs the edges of his nails into the flesh of your knees, causing you to yelp and moan and then...

     "I want you to step on my pussy! Please..." You press out your request with the last of the breath in your lungs.         

     Hoseok's eyes flutter shut at the last word of your plea.

     "Say that again," he commands in a husky whisper, and even without further specification, somehow, you know.     

     "Please..." You groan, letting your legs drop open demurely.

     His eyes are still closed, but he can feel the action with his hands, which have now slipped just inside your knees to your inner thighs. He inhales deeply through his nose, before exhaling with a shuddering breath. When his lids languidly raise again the piercing onyx of what they have unveiled is pinning you to the floor with more deadly force than even his hands ever could. Your pulse pounds in your cunt, your head still swimming from your previous position as he pushes himself up to stand. 

     As you blink up at Hoseok towering over you, standing between your splayed thighs with his midnight gaze boring into the damp denim covering your heat, something inside you long ajar quietly but firmly clicks into place. 

     "Tell me, brat" he seethes, eyes roving your trembling form stretched out beneath him, "Who makes the rules in this house?"

     "Hoseok-ssi," you whimper, so needy the ache is beginning to hurt.

     Every cell of your body is awake with a desperate anticipation that only he can satisfy...or deny.

     You have never felt more alive.

     And then something happens and your brain shuts off entirely. 

Everything vanishes: the studio, the traffic outside the western window, the city of Seoul and South Korea and the whole goddamned planet rolling around in the Milky Way. Nothing exists except the tip of Hoseok's Air Jordan ghosting over the swell of your crotch. 

     Your mouth waters as his foot slowly slides forward, then goes completely dry as you feel it settle with the sole aligned directly with your slit. His eyes flick up to your face, but you can't hold his gaze for more than a millisecond as he begins to apply pressure to your mound.

     Your eyes roll back in your skull, head lolling as your neck goes slack, lips parted in a silent scream as the man above you presses down with a low hum over your sex. The seam of your shorts is biting deliciously into the tender flesh of your clit, sending shockwaves through your core like a live wire, and when he rolls his foot in a circular motion you think you see god. 

You do scream then, but it's nothing more than a strangled sound in your throat as your fantasies materialize and he leans his weight into his stance, punishing the soft fat of your cunt with the sole of his shoe.

     You're going to cum. He's barely touched you and you're going to cum. He seems to see it in the twisted ecstasy of your features as his lids hood his eyes and filth begins to spill from his lips.

     "Do you like that, brat?" he taunts, "That's what you get when you're a good little girl for Hoseok -  you get your pretty wet cun-"  

     Click jangle clack - boom boom boom! 

     Hobi springs away from you, hopping back on one foot with wide eyes as a succession of rapid knocks follow the stilted motions of the locked door handle. You scramble up from the floor, heart pounding and breath coming fast as you toss yourself into the corner of the couch. 

     Boom, boom, boom!

     "Hyung, are you naked or something?" comes a familiar if muffled voice from the other side of the wall.

     You fumble for your phone and Hoseok runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before pulling open the door.

     The man belonging to the impatient knocks and muffled accusations stumbles headlong into the studio, the locked entrance against which he had pressed his ear and most of his weight having been pulled out from under him.

"Jimi...nie...?" Hobi greets his bandmate and his eyes track the other's toppling form with surprise and a hint of agitation. 

     Yoongi ambles in casually behind him, sipping a dewy americano through a straw, a beanie sitting atop his ashy locks gnomishly.

     Jimin nimbly pushes himself to a stand from where he had crashed against Hobi's desk, not a strand of his coiffed platinum blond hair askew as he spins around face to the dance captain. But before he can get out a greeting or an excuse for his manner of entrance he freezes as he spots you in the corner.

His eyes flick to Hobi's hat on the floor, then to the pink flush on the apples of his friend's cheeks. When Jimin's eyes slide back over to where you are curled into your nook, eyeing him warily over the tiny shield of your phone, his plush lips slowly spread into a sickeningly devious smile.

     Hobi scoops his hat up off the floor and tugs in back on before taking a seat, carefully, you notice - thighs pressed together and leaning forward - in his rolling chair. The implication of his posture has you sweating into your shirt.

You need to get it the fuck together.

     "If I would have known you were here I'd have brought you a kimbap," Jimin says, wicked grin still plastered on his face as he holds up a plastic convenience store bag.

     You blink. 

     "Oh, uh, that's okay..." you bluster, waving your hand. "I'm not hungry anyway." 

     It's true. You just lost your appetite for the foreseeable future, stomach a raging sea of nerves as Jimin places the bag on the desk.

     Yoongi shuffles over to sit at the other end of the couch, raising his free hand and drawing his mouth into a straight line in greeting. You manage your own tight-lipped grin and flash him a peace sign, hoping you did it quickly enough that the tremor in your hand went unnoticed.

     "To what do I owe this visit from my bros?" Hobi asks from where he's turned toward his computer screen to save the neglected file. 

His voice is cheerful, but you can hear the strain - how it's pitched just half a tone too high - and Jimin's eyes are still on you.

     "I dragged Yoongi hyung out for some fresh air. I took him to lunch and grabbed you a snack on the way back."

     "Yah, you took me to lunch? Then why did I pay?" Yoongi grumbles from beside you, his bare features pinched into a grumpy pout that makes him look particularly feline.

     "Because you love me," Jimin coos at him and the older musician's mouth quirks up into a smile he can't seem to repress. 

     "What are you working on, Hoba? Which track?" Yoongi murmurs around the straw between his lips, blinking patiently as Hobi seems to shake himself, pulling his hat off to run a hand through his hair before readjusting it on his head and swiveling back toward his computer screen.

     He hits play on the track and Yoongi leaves the couch to join the other two.

     This is all so normal, so typical of the guys - the affectionate repartee and chat about ongoing projects. And on an average day, you'd have joined right in. 

But today is not an average day. 

No.

Five minutes ago, you were spread-eagle on the floor six inches from where Jimin stands, with Hoseok's shoe on your bits.

     You have to get out of here.

     "I'm, uh, I'm gonna head out, boys," you muster, making a beeline for the door as soon as the inertia of your decision gives you the courage to peel yourself from the corner of the couch.

     "You're leaving?" Jimin's voice quips in a saccharine whine, with the slightest edge that makes you avoid his eyes as you slip out with a parting wave.

You do catch Hoseok's expression, whose head snaps up at your parting movements. His brows furrow and his lips part, looking as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't.

     And then you're gone.

    Your smart watch trills as your heart rate enters cardio territory. Your chest is heaving, breath coming heavy as the pliant cushion of your couch gives way to the crown of your head pressing back into it, eyes pinched shut and hand shoved down your pants. 

The bullet vibrator you have pressed to your clit is doing everything it should, and you feel it coming - your orgasm. 6:12pm on a Tuesday and it's already your third self-love session of the day. 

You tense your thighs, urging the building pressure in your core to boil over, and quickly. You groan and grit your teeth as your administering hand starts to shake. You writhe and whimper for a moment. And then it's over.

     You stare up at the ceiling of your apartment, breathlessly huffing out a despondent sigh as the empty ache in your chest returns. It has become your loathsomely devoted companion in every waking moment over the last ten days, filling you with an unshakable restlessness and sickly discontent.

     Nothing can slake it. Not reality TV. Not Cabernet Sauvignon. Not overtime hours. Not ASMR wood-soup videos. Not yoga. Not Ben and Jerry's. Not midnight runs on your NordicTrack. Not fucking yourself to climax on every single goddamned toy you own. 

     The little monster you roused the weekend before last in Hope World hasn't returned to sleep. No. She is wide awake. And she seems to grow more ravenous with each passing day. 

At first you tried to ignore her, but she kept you up into the long, bleak hours of the night. And so, in a fuzzy, staticky haze some time after midnight a number of days ago you typed some words into a search engine that would probably have your assigned FBI agent doing a spit-take.

     The thing is, you'd never seen "50 Shades of Grey", you'd never been interested. It wasn't as if you were a prude - hardly! You have always enjoyed sex, both intimate and recreational. In fact, it has always been one of your favored methods of blowing off steam, and you knew quite well how to please yourself and how to guide partners in doing the same.

     You have never had problems in taking what you wanted in life, in taking charge and ensuring that things play out your way – it's what makes you so good at your job, and valued by your peers who know that they can rely on you to take the reins and rise to the occasion.

     So when you suddenly stumbled unprepared into the world of BDSM, your visceral reaction to the concept of submission left you wondering...why?

Why, why, why? 

Why does this do it for you? Why did your very linear, stable existence have to be completely disrupted by this discovery? And most urgently of all, why, for the love of everything sacred, did all the porn in the whole wide world fail to accomplish even a fraction of the effect of Jung Hoseok's size 9 sneaker? It's all too overwhelming to process.

     You let out a frustrated whine as you pull your sticky, cramped hand, still clutching the little purple bullet, from the confines of your pants. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table and you can see the notification is from Jimin. You've been ignoring his calls and pleading texts to meet up, or just pick up. You can't face him. Not after ghosting Hobi.

     You feel a pang twist in your stomach as you haul yourself toward the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away the guilt you feel for ignoring Hoseok outright. He texted you almost immediately after you left the studio, asking if you were alright. You let him know that you were, with just one word: yeah.

     You had typed and retyped that response. "Yeah, thanks" seemed too weird. Like, thanks for what? Almost making you cum with the tip of his shoe? No. "Yeah, sorry" felt pathetic. What were you apologizing for? It seemed to imply...regret? Or fault. Neither of which would have come from a genuine place. And beyond a simple affirmation, you certainly didn't have words. So, "yeah" it was. He tried to call you later that evening, but you didn't pick up. You were already way up in your head by then. It had been radio silence since.

     You toss a coconut steamer onto the wet shower tiles and sigh, catching a glimpse of your face in the bathroom mirror as you slide the glass door shut.

     "Coward," you mutter as you close your eyes and slip under the cleansing stream.

     You're wrapped up in a blanket cocoon and sipping a cup of sleepy-time tea, trying to distract yourself from the messy tangle of emotions waging war across your various chakras with season two of Single's Inferno, when a knock on the door startles you out of your simmering reverie. You heave yourself off the carpeted floor of your living room and scoot toward the door like a fleecy Jabba the Hutt to peek through the peephole.

     Your vision is obscured as another eye looks back at you from the other side of the concave glass. You jump back, dropping your blanket shroud in a pile around your feet and let out a yelp of alarm. You slam a hand over the peep hole as giggles erupt on the other side.

     "Yah! I know you're in there - so let me in!"

     Your entire body sags against the door in relief as you recognize the voice of the would-be intruder. You swing the door open to grant him exasperated entrance.

     "Park Jimin, you just took ten years off my life! Creep," you bluster, gathering the blanket up around your body as you retreat back into your apartment. 

You plop down again in front of the TV, knowing that Jimin came to either talk you into going out or to just talk, and either way, you are truly not in the mood. Your friend snickers behind you, sauntering into your kitchen. He returns with a beer, bringing the frosty green bottle to his lips before sinking into an armchair and regarding you with an expression that waivers between amusement, pity, and disgust.

     "You look awful," he remarks, taking another swig as his gaze roves your unkempt appearance.

     Your features twist into a frown, eyes never leaving the television.

     "You don't get to barge into my apartment, steal my booze, then insult me, Park," you snip, burrowing further down into the fluffy mass encasing your body.

     Jimin raises a brow, a small smile still playing on his lips as he follows your eyes to the television where YouTuber Dex and professional model Lim Minsu flirtatiously splash about in a ridiculously opulent indoor swimming pool.

     "Fuck, Dex is hot," Jimin mutters.

     "For some reason he reminds me of Jungkook," you smirk, glancing over at him for the first time since he arrived.

     He grimaces theatrically.

     "I don't see it."

     The contestant on the screen flashes his Paradise companion a blinding smile and raises a tattooed arm to cut through the water, content to show off his stroke precision as his date watches on. The resolve on Jimin's face falters .

     "Yeah, well...Dex is hotter."

     You scoff.

     "Yeah, no. Kook-ah is definitely hotter."

     "For the love of god, just don't tell him that, okay?" Jimin pleads, "That kid is insufferable enough these days."

     "You love him."

     He hides a smile behind another sip of Hite.

     "Why did you ghost Hobi hyung?"

     Jimin blinks innocent eyes at you, as if he hasn't just dumped the last week and a half of silent agony over your head like a bucket of ice water. But the chill is momentary, because the next second your body feels like an oven. You stammer.

     "I-I...ghost him? I didn't ghost anyone...I'm busy...I..." you trail off weakly as your friend's unimpressed and knowing gaze bores into your soul.

     You sigh and scrub your hands over your face.

     "Because I'm a big chicken, okay?" You murmur into your palms.

     You don't know why, but you feel like crying. When you pull your hands away from your face, Jimin must see it because suddenly he's on the couch wrapping you in the kind of hug that reminds you why he's your ride-or-die, and in the safety of his embrace the tears begin to fall. Days of being alone with yourself and your conflicted feelings pour from your ducts and onto the front of Jimin's bright yellow flannel. He coos words of reassurance, admonishing your tears, as he strokes your hair.

     "Talk to me, you silly goose," he hums with an endeared chuckle. 

     You sniff and hiccup as you pull away, wiping your puffy eyes.

     "I don't even know what to say, Minnie...I don't know what's wrong with me..."

     Jimin smiles and grabs a few tissues from the box on the coffee table, dabbing them against your nose.

     "Well, first of all, nothing is wrong with you. But second of all, tell me what is bothering you."

     You heave a dramatic sigh.

     "If I tell you, you have to swear - and I mean swear - that you will not make fun of me or tell anyone else. And I mean not Taehyung, not Yoongi, not anyone, you hear me?" 

     He smirks, but nods in assent. You narrow your eyes at him.

     "Say it. Out loud." You demand warily.

     Jimin rolls his eyes and throws up his hands.

     "Yah! Okay! I won't tell anyone," he quips mockingly.

     You sigh again and draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. If this gets too hard to talk about with eye-contact at least you'll have a place to hide your bashful face.

      "I..." you start softly, not sure where to begin except the beginning, "Re-remember that thing I told you when we got plastered a little while back...about...Hobi?"

     Jimin's lips quirk at the corners as he nods.

     "Well...the thing is...wait!" You cut yourself off, suddenly gripped by a notion that has you prematurely flustered and indignant. "What did he tell you?"

     Jimin shakes his head, a small smile still playing on his full lips.

     "Nothing," he responds, looking you dead in the eye in a way that has you almost believing he's telling the truth. 

     "No, really," you press.

     Jimin leans back against the arm of the couch from where he faces you, running a hand through his hair and drawing his legs up to criss-cross in front of him.

     "Jagi, this is Hobi hyung we're talking about. You think he would do that? He has too much respect for you. He would never. Not to anyone. Not even me."

     Your chest floods with relief, affection, and regret. Fuck. Of course he wouldn't. He was too mature of a person for that. Too considerate. Too lovely. And you hadn't even had the gumption to speak to him for the last ten days beyond a mono-syllabic SMS. Jimin watches your expression do emotional acrobatics.

     "So..." he offers encouragingly, "something...happened....between you guys, right? That day Yoongi hyung and I showed up? We...uh...interrupted something, didn't we?" He can't help a devilish smile, eyes twinkling as he carefully phrases his query.

     You bury your face into your knees and squeak out an affirmation. Jimin lets out a bright laugh and you immediately raise your burning face in a scowl.

     "Hey! You said you wouldn't-" 

     He waves his hands in apology as he attempts to gain his composure.

     "Mianhae, mianhae! I'm not laughing at you!" He insists, leaning forward to grab your swatting hands by the wrists.

     "Sounds kind of like you are!" You huff, yanking your arms from his grasp.

     "So..." Jimin hums, tilting his head to track your gaze as you try again to hide your face, "If he's down, and you're down...what's the problem? Why did you run and hide? Did your feelings change?"

     You slowly raise your eyes to his, searching them as you decide just how much you're willing to tell him right now. You chew on your bottom lip as you realize you need to get it out. All of it. You drop your legs to mirror Jimin's posture, lowering your defenses with your millionth-and-first sigh of the evening.

     "Okay...well..." you muse, fiddling with the blanket still draped over your lap. "You know how I told you that stuff that I...dreamt...about Hobi?"

     Jimin nods.

     "Well...something did kind of happen...and well..." you trail off as Jimin raises his brows expectantly.

     "Oh, fuck it!" you bluster, exhausted by your own attempts at delicacy. "He dominated me and I liked it. I really really liked it, okay? And it freaked. me. the fuck. out. Like...I've neeeeever felt that way before about fooling around. It wasn't just fun, or, like, pleasurable...it was...almost..." you search for the words as Jimin stares at you raptly. "...Freeing? Like, a relief. Like, a 'where has this shit been all my life' moment."

     Jimin hums and nods, interlacing his fingers and leaning his chin against his knuckles.

     "Like...I don't know...I'm a very independent person. And capable. And, yeah, things have been crazy stressful at work, and I have a lot on my plate...but I handle it, you know? In fact, I don't just handle it, I kind of...enjoy the pressure of leadership and responsibility? It drives me. I've always been like that, in every area of my life..." 

     Jimin smiles and lets out a sound of recognition.

     "So the one who wears the crown is wondering why it feels so good to be...subjected?" He waggles his brows. You roll your eyes.

     "Grow up, dude."

     "Am I right, though? I'm right."

     You find yourself chewing your bottom lip again.

     "Essentially. I like power. I like control. What is this sudden obsession with losing it? It's...scary. And confusing."

     Jimin smiles. 

     "You know, it's actually not that uncommon, from what I understand," he states, reaching for his abandoned beer on the coffee table.

     You quirk an eyebrow.

    "I mean, everyone is different, and this is a journey you're going to have to take for yourself to get the answers, but from what I know about the BDSM community, it's not unusual for people who are in positions of power to crave a bit of a...reprieve."

     "Really?"

     "Yeah," he nods, reclining back again against the arm of the couch, "The bedroom is a good place to let your walls down. Maybe the only place, for some people. And with a trusted partner it can even be healing to play a different role than you do in other parts of your life."

     It's your turn to smirk.

     "You talk as if you know," you prod playfully, shoving your toes into his shin. He smiles that wicked smile of his and you laugh.

     "What I'm trying to say is, maybe it's not just about the...dynamics. Maybe it's also that it's Hobi hyung. He knows you. You know him, too. You trust each other. Maybe you could get to know each other in a new way. Be something for each other that you both need." He takes the last sip of his beer and twirls the bottle in his hands, gazing at you with a gentle thoughtfulness.

     You nod slowly, digesting his newly offered perspective.

     "So," you muse, raising your eyes to him again, "You think he needs it too?" 

     Jimin shrugs. 

     "Only he could tell you that for sure. But I do know this, he's awfully good at being bossy, and doesn't get a lot of opportunity to run the show - outside of dance practice, that is."

     Chuckling nervously at the thought, you try your best to conceal the spark that has crackled to life from the burning coals inside you at the mention of his natural command of authority. 

     "Hey," Jimin posits with a grin, "Maybe if he's spanking you he'll go a little easier on us when we screw up the choreo..."

     "EXCUSE ME THE FU-WHAT?!" You shriek, snatching up a throw pillow to beat him mercilessly as he falls in raucous laughter to the floor.

     Turning to glance over your shoulder at your reflection in the mirror, you smooth your hands over the back of the svelte black bodycon number you've donned for the evening. You're a vision in monochrome, having paired your LBD with sleek stilettos and dark smokey eyes with heavy lashes.

     Your phone buzzes, indicating that your ride share is close by. Butterflies flutter in your belly as you reach for the finishing touch to your outfit: a velvety black choker with a sliver o-ring studded in colorless topaz. It's just fashionable enough to still look like a necklace, but it gives you a bit of a thrill to know that it's not. To know what's tucked inside your purse to accompany it. To wonder if, going unnoticed by most, it will catch a certain pair of dark eyes.

     The drive across town to reach the Jihope residence never felt so long. You try your best to calm your nerves over the last few blocks of distance - it’s just a party, after all, and kind of a silly one at that. 

During Jimin's last visit, he mentioned that he and Hobi would be throwing a Black Day party for all of their single friends the following weekend, and after dodging his attempts at socialization so religiously of late, you felt you owed it to him to attend.     

     Black Day had never been something your group of friends had ever observed before, but it was incredibly chic to do so this year, for whatever reason. And of course, all the organizing duo of the soiree needed was the slightest excuse for Jimin to party and Hobi to host.

     Upon arriving at the building, you can already hear the music pumping from the top floor, and the chatter of guests spilling out onto the terrace. You present your ID to the security guard at the front gate, and are escorted to a private elevator that whisks you up to the penthouse. Being quite successful and comfortable yourself, you still find yourself surprised when reminded of the sheer net worth of your humble, down-to-earth Bangtan pals. Hobi is worth the most, and while he is an excellent investor and a generous philanthropist, he also likes to show out, and in style.

     You take a deep breath as you buzz the bell.

     The door swings open to reveal a handsome young man in a black t-shirt tucked into baggy dark-wash jeans, his fluffy brown hair parted in the middle and his ears glinting with rows of silver hoops. His round eyes scrunch into little moons and he flashes an adorable toothy grin, endearingly lopsided where it stretches deeper against the little orbital piercing at the right side of his bottom lip.

“Noona!" he growls, pulling you into a bear hug. "Where have you been? The last two times we went to noraebang there was no one to sing Through the Night with me!"   

     "Ah...hah...", you nervously chuckle, pulling away from his embrace as you search your brain for an excuse other than business.

     "I'll sing with you, Googie!"  

     You turn to see your salvation from further explanation in the form of a giggling young woman bouncing up to clutch Jungkook's arm and steady herself as she sways on her platform heels. She smells like soju and fruity perfume.

     You smirk and thank her, patting her hand where it clutches your friend's tattooed forearm before she's dragging him away down the hall.

     "Make sure she stays hydrated!" You call after him with a shake of your head, making your way through the throng of guests to the bar area. 

     The furnishings of the residence are a study in classy postmodern minimalism, punctuated with abstract urban art – though you notice that some of the Kaws pieces are missing, likely stored away for safekeeping from rowdy party-goers. 

     The sleek chrome and granite full-service bar is stocked with liquor and beer, and a commissioned mixologist is crafting darkly colored cocktails. A buffet-style spread offers the traditional jjajangmyeon and an assortment of other delicious eats.

     The spacious dining area is littered with small tables draped in black linens, each bearing centerpieces of hellebore, leather leaf, black carnations, and eucalyptus. The living room has been converted to a dance floor, complete with a glittering disco ball. House music booms through the built-in speaker system as guests in groups and pairs move to the beat.

     You glance over a drink menu of themed cocktails as a voice sounds from over your shoulder. 

     "I recommend the Down With Love."

     Turning, you flash the speaker a grin.

     "Alright, but is it giving Judy or Barbara?"

     Taehyung raises a disparaging brow.

     "It's a gimlet. Judy, obviously."

     You chuckle, putting in your order for the suggested beverage.

     "You look good," he remarks, gesturing at you with the unlit cigarette tucked between his first two fingers, his other hand slipped into his pocket as he leans against the wall.

     He doesn't look bad himself, you think, in his black satin top and flared Merlot trousers.

     "Thanks," you smile as the bartender hands over an inky concoction garnished with a grapefruit slice twisted into the shape of a heart and run through with a toothpick.

     You eye it skeptically.

     "How do they make it black?"

     "Activated charcoal. C'mon."

     Tae links your arm through his and weaves through the bustle to a table of familiar faces. Yoongi raises a whiskey tumbler in greeting and you clink your glass with his, sliding into a chair next to Taehyung and reaching over to give Namjoon's arm an affectionate squeeze. It seems that all the members have turned up, save Seokjin, who's been a taken man three years strong.

     You fall into easy conversation with the boys, and just when your difference of opinion with Namjoon over Lee Bul's latest installation piece is developing into a full-blown debate, Jimin slides up to the table and spills onto Taehyung's lap.

     "None of you are dancing!" He whines breathlessly, poking Tae's cheek as the other man smiles shyly.

     "Jungkook is," Yoongi rebuts, taking another bite of jjajangmyeon.

     He's not wrong, though to your amusement, the maknae appears to be getting danced on more than anything else.

    "Where's Hobi hyung?" Tae queries, prodding gently at Jimin's full cheek in return.

     Jimin's eyes dart to you, a smirk spreading slowly across his lips as his gaze rakes up from your heels to the choker around your neck.

     "Good question," he hums, rising to take your hand and pull you up from your seat. "Let's go find him."

     Jimin heads for the French doors at the far end of space that lead onto the terrace. They're propped open, and cool evening air floods the apartment, keeping the atmosphere from suffocating under the warmth of body heat and the scent of rich food.

     "Jimin!" You hiss, as you approach the rooftop patio, "What are you doing? This is the opposite of subtle!"

    He laughs merrily.

     "You're so cute when you're flustered!"

     You don't have any more time to grumble as you emerge under the darkening sky, just beginning to speckle with stars barely visible against the glow of string lights wrapped around the cozy outdoor enclosure. There's a small electric fire pit surrounded by plush patio furniture, and live greenery all around.

     The energy is much more relaxed than within, but even so, you feel your pulse quicken as Jimin guides you toward a small group at the corner of the terrace. You recognize a few of the men and women gathered as industry producers, but none of that really matters because all your brain can register is him.

     And holy shit does he look good.

     He's arresting sophistication and effortless elegance. A silk charcoal dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, ripples along the lines of his torso - save where the top three buttons have been neglected to expose the smooth planes of his toned chest. His lean, athletic legs seem even longer than usual in fitted black slacks, his pretty wrists and fingers sparkling with jewelry where his thumbs are slipped into his pockets. His hair has been slicked back from his face, and his eyes are just barely obscured by a pair of lightly tinted wire-rimmed aviators. That brilliant, warm heart-shaped smile cuts through all the sharp darkness of his garb, and your breath catches in your chest when Jimin calls out to him.

     "Hyung!"

     As Hoseok's eyes meet yours the grin stretched across his face falters, but he quickly regains composure.

     "Eyyy," he greets you, striding forward and wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you into a side hug. Of course he smells as incredible as he looks.

     "Hi, Hobi," you murmur a bit shyly, returning his embrace.

     "Hyung," Jimin pouts cutely, "Save us! She was putting our guests to sleep talking to Namjoon-ah about art theory."

     "Hey," Hobi chides in a warning tone, cocking his head to the side to glance down at you. "Don't enable the poor guy – he needs to get laid."

     "Well nobody is going to approach him if she's hanging around looking like that." Jimin gestures casually, a mischievous twinkle glinting for a moment his eye.

     Hobi's arm slips off your shoulders to grasp your hand as he steps back. He's never been good at keeping his feelings from his face, and the look trained on his features as he appraises you has you thinking you made the right decision when you put on that dress.

     "How about we keep you out of trouble and on the dance floor, hm?" Hobi says with a sly smile, raising your hand and tilting forward in a posture of invitation.

     You roll your eyes playfully, unable to bite back a smile of your own as you motion for Hobi to lead the way, careful to avoid Jimin's eyes as you let the rapper guide you back into the thrumming pulse of the festivities.

      He gently pulls you onto the dance floor and tugs you into him, keeping a hold on your right hand as he slips the other just below the curve of your waist. You settle into an easy step to the lively beat. Hobi's eyes search your face as you tilt it up to him, running a hand up his chest to adjust the collar of his shirt with a sigh. You fiddle with the soft fabric between your fingers.   

     "I'm sorry, Hobi," you murmur, just loudly enough for him to hear.

     When he just smiles a bit sadly you feel your heart squeeze and you drop your head to his chest. You will yourself not to cry as he slows his movements, slipping a knuckle beneath your chin to raise your gaze to his own.     

     "Hajima," he protests, "Let's talk later. Right now, how about we just have some fun? I missed you."

     His expression is sweet and earnest and you feel like your chest might not have room for anything more than your complete and utter affection for this man. 

     "I missed you too," you admit with a little grin, pressing yourself against him just a bit more firmly and gazing up at him through widened eyes. He blinks for a moment, and then suddenly, there it is again, blooming across his lips - that blinding gorgeous smile, and that heady, infectious laugh.

     In one quick motion, he spins you around to face away from him as the music drops to a deep, throbbing EDM number, his fingertips grazing your hips and his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

     "You did, huh?" he purrs. "Alright, then...show me how much." 

     You suck in a breath because you don't ever think you'll be ready for how quickly he can turn that dark, deep voice in his chest into something that makes you feel like you're astral-projecting. Your first instinct is to push him away, make him take it from you...but this moment isn't for that. After your exit last time around, you’re determined to make him so incredibly certain that you want him. That you need him. 

     You lean back into him and, whispering a silent prayer of gratitude to the goddess of stilettos, press your ass firmly into his groin. You feel the air leave his lips in a hiss against your neck, and his hands slide to squeeze your hips and tug your body even deeper into his. You grind back against him as your body undulates with the hypnotic rhythm of the beat, but it's not long before he's taken over guiding the motion of your hips to match the rolls of his own. 

     Your eyelids flutter. You've never been this close to him. Sure, in the studio, things had gotten hot and heavy - but you had only been in his hands. He had only touched you to move you, still you, punish you. Now you are flush against his body, and everywhere you touch as he rocks you in tortuous waves against him tastes like the first sumptuous bite of a forbidden fruit. 

You can feel him beginning to swell against the plush of your ass, but even that isn't what has a familiar ache throbbing at the apex of your thighs – it's the effortlessness with which he wrests control of your body, your mind...your very being down to its most primal core.

     Hoseok's hand skids up your side and slips over your collarbones.

     "I like this necklace," he mumbles into your hair.

     You turn in his arms, slipping your fingers around the back of his neck as you raise your lips to his ear.

     "I'm disappointed in you, Hoseok," you tut, "It's not a necklace, you know." 

     He doesn't respond, but focuses on bringing his leg to slot between yours, hiking your dress up enough to tease your mound with brushes over the front of his thigh. You swallow a moan.

He's toying with you, but you won't give in. Not so easily. Not yet.

     "I guess you could call it a choker..." you rasp, trying to keep the tremor from your voice as your face presses into the side of his jaw, "That is more descriptive of its actual purpose, I suppose."

     For one millisecond in the fabric of time and space you feel his pace falter as the words spill from your lips - then he runs his hand up your back, slipping two fingers under the tight strip of velvet surrounding your throat.

     For the first time since you started dancing, you look at him. Crystalline beads of sweat have broken out on his brow, and his mouth is set in a stern line, his eyes hooded and dark as tugs his fingers back to command a view of your gaze.

     "Are you telling me," he grits out lowly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip so bruisingly you gasp, "...that you showed up to my party wearing a fucking collar?" 

     You don't answer him - instead you let a wicked smile slip over your lips, refusing defiantly to drop his piercing stare. He has stopped moving you against him, stopped moving entirely. His hands are firm but still where they hold you as his eyes bore down.

     "Are you out here trying to finish what we started?"

     You tilt your head back, narrowing your eyes seductively.

     "What do you think?"

     You watch a thousand and one thoughts race through Hoseok's mind as his eyes drop to your neck again and he swallows thickly.

     "Oh, fuck it," he hisses, turning and catching your hand to pull you impatiently through the crowd. 

     You barely have time to wonder what he's thinking or where you're headed when, at the opening to the hall, he spins to grasp your waist and tuck you into a small alcove. He does it so quickly and with such force that you nearly topple the potted plant on the stand beside you.

     He pushes himself against you, the tip of his nose brushing yours, and his firm body pressing you to the wall. He holds your wrists in his hands, pinning them to either side of your body. You let out a tiny whimper.

     His peppermint breath fans over your cheeks.

     "I was going to wait," he whispers loud enough for you to hear him clearly over the music from the room behind you. "I was going to ask you...to stay. After..." he traces his nose along the ridge of your cheekbone as he squeezes your wrists tightly, his nails nipping into your skin. "But you come here with the audacity to tease me like that? Out there, in front of everyone like a desperate little slut?" 

     His mouth is hovering over your ear as he speaks, sending shivers cascading down your spine.

     "I'm not a patient man," he mutters darkly, and you feel your pussy throb.

     You struggle slightly against his grasp, and he growls lowly. Turning into him, you press your mouth against his throat, letting your teeth graze his skin as you respond.

     "Then don't be."

     It's all the permission he needs. He snatches you away from the wall, dragging you down the hall toward the master bedroom at the far end. Your heartbeat hammers in your chest as you gaze at the dark mahogany door growing closer and closer with every stumbled step you take to match his hurried pace.

     He turns to glance over his shoulder, and you follow the action as he grips the handle, turns it, and...

     "What the..." Hoseok mutters, rattling the handle forcefully before raising his fist to pound against the door. "YAH! UNLOCK THIS DOOR!" He booms. 

     You hear muted voices and sounds of scurried movement from within. He bangs again and again until the door swishes open to reveal a flushed and flustered Jungkook, still fumbling with the button of his jeans.

     "Hyung! S-sorry, hyung, I was just...we were..."

     "OUT." Hoseok demands icily, pushing the door inward on its hinges to reveal the peppy, strawberry-scented young woman from before hurrying forward to tuck herself behind Jungkook as she draws a hand across her smeared lipstick. 

You bite back a grin as you watch them scuttle down the hall before Hoseok shuts and locks the door behind you.

     "That kid...seriously," he grumbles. "He knows my room is off limits."

     You chuckle, despite his lack of amusement, and he takes your hand again, drawing you toward a small couch at the far side of the large room. You take in your surroundings as you cross the space - similarly furnished to the rest of the apartment. The furniture is sleek and modern, Kaws sculptures and collectible figurines occupy tables and shelves. There are a few live plants, including one hanging from a large hook in the ceiling near a massive, raised canopy bed.

     He draws you to sit beside him, a crease still pinched between his brows, likely from having to evict the irksome intruders. You laugh softly and run a thumb over his forehead.

     "They're gone!" you chuckle, "Don't let it bother you so much. You'll get wrinkles." You tease, and his face softens.

     He catches your hand in both of his as it lowers. He sighs.

     "I needed a bit of water thrown in my face anyway," he smirks, and you glance down bashfully. "Before anything really happens, I think we should have…a conversation." 

     You nod in agreement.

     "Can I start?" you interject and he nods in return.

     You huff out a long breath.

     "I want to apologize for how I reacted...last time."

     He smiles wryly.

     "It was all very new and sudden to me, and...I don't know...I freaked out."

     Hobi squeezes your hand.

     "You have no reason to be sorry about that. I should have never initiated like that somewhere that wasn't really private. I just got caught up..." he shakes his head.

     "No! Me too! I'm glad it happened. I..." you trail off, feeling your face heat. "Oh, fuck, I don't know how to say this..."

     He claims he's not a patient man, but he waits, watching with tender eyes as you choose your words.

     "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it...like..." you take a deep breath as you gather the courage for vulnerable transparency.

     You remember what Jimin said. It's Hobi. You are safe with Hobi.

     "It was like nothing I've ever felt before. Like a release...more than sexual, you know? Like, freedom. Like, I felt so alive."

     He smiles, nodding his head in understanding.

     "I..." you continue, still nervous but with mounting confidence as he makes you feel heard, "I would like to...explore this part of myself, this new world," you gesture, "And...well, I would love for you to be the one to guide me."

     You raise your gaze to his. His eyes are shimmering. He slowly raises a hand and brushes his fingers over your cheek.

     "It would be my honor," he murmurs earnestly.

     A smile blooms across your face and your chest fills with warmth. You raise your hand, curling your fingers into his where they rest against your jaw. He drops your hands, still holding on, to his knee.

     "Can I ask how much you know about the community?" he queries, tracing his thumb softly over your knuckles.

     "A lot more now than I did a couple of weeks ago!" you respond with a laugh. "I know that I'm a sub, but one that likes to...fight back a little bit?"

     Hobi smirks, pocketing his tongue in his cheek. His eyes glint.

     "A brat," he answers. 

     "...Yeah."

     "Want me to work for it."

     Your mouth quirks up in a grin.

     "The harder the challenge the bigger the payoff," he hums, glancing thoughtfully down at your joined hands.

     "I think," he says after a pause, "Since you're new to all this, we should start slow. I already know some things you enjoy, and vice versa. But part of this kind of thing is about testing your limits. You're going to come across things you don't like, too. I need you to be able to tell me. Without a second thought. Seriously."

     He looks at you intently.

     You smile.

     "I trust you enough to know that you’d stop if that’s what I wanted. I may enjoy being dominated but I do still know what I want. And with you...I..." You tug at his hand, "I know I could say what I...need.”

     He huffs out a little breath, his brows drawing together as he regards you in reverence.

     "You know you can be that way with me too, right? Needy?" You ask softly. "I want...to take care of you, that way. Maybe we can...take care of each other." 

     You're not looking at him. You can't. It's all incredibly intimate and strange. When he doesn't respond, you begin to wonder if you said something you shouldn't have. And then your doubts vanish as quickly as they had appeared when you feel his arm slip around your shoulders as he pulls you into his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin.

     Your heart sings.

     After a long, quiet moment, Hobi pulls back to look at you. 

     "Should we set some rules for ourselves?" he asks.

     You purse your lips and nod. Admittedly, you had come with a few in mind.

     "I think...we shouldn't kiss. Well, not on the mouth. It's...I don't know. I think it might make things confusing."

     Hobi looks thoughtful, nodding slowly.

     "Which brings me to my other thought," you chew your lip. "I think this should just be about sex. We're friends, and I want to keep that aspect of our relationship strong and uncompromised."

     He smiles. 

     "Makes sense to me. But..." he says with a raise of his brows, "If we do start seeing other people, I think we should tell each other. Especially if they're going to be people we're fooling around with."

     You give an enthusiastic hum of assent.

“I don’t have a partner at the moment,” you shake your head, glancing up at him.

“Me neither.”

He clears his throat and shifts his stance.

“When we’re…together,” he gestures in the space between you. “What about protection?”

You blink thoughtfully.

“I’m on birth control.”

He nods.

“Okay…would you want me to wear a condom?”

You feel heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze with a shake of your head.

“Not unless you wanted you.”

He stares at you for a long moment before chuckling and shaking his own head.

“Ay, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You smile and pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

     "Oh! And we already have a safeword!” you remind him with a grin.

     "We do," he acknowledges, his eyes dropping to the glinting metallic ring adorning your throat.

     Your smile falters and your heartbeat quickens…and when he looks back up at you it's like whiplash as he sets you reeling again with a dark, hungry gaze.

     "If that thing isn't a necklace," he rasps, reaching his fingers up to touch the cold silver, "How about we put it to its proper use, hm?" 

     You shiver, pressing your thighs together as your heartbeat drops to your clit.

     "Yeah..." you whisper, your breath already starting to come quicker as you reach for your bag and fumble with trembling fingers with the clasp. 

     Hoseok's brow knits as he watches you open the purse, reaching in to produce a length of light chain about three feet long with a velvet strap on one and a claw clasp on the other. You double it up and dangle it from your hand, your heart thrumming in your chest as you raise your eyes to his.

     "You can put it on me," you purr, "...But you'll have to take it from me first."

     Click.

     That ineffable thing, that invisible force he wields that arrests you has slipped back into place. You can feel it, pouring off him in devastating waves...and you're already starting to drown.

     It didn't take him long to wrestle the leash from your grasp. Now you're on your knees before him, hands at your sides as he leans forward to affix the chain to the o-ring at your neck. You're breathing hard from your struggle. He stands to his full height, wrapping the links around his hand until the line is taught. He clicks his tongue condescendingly.

    "What am I going to do with you now, hm?" he murmurs, tugging at the chain briefly so that you lurch slightly forward. You whine complaintively.

     "Quiet," he hisses in warning. 

     You bite your lip. You need to obey now. Your panties are soaked and you can feel the turgid swell of your clit with every slight motion of your body. If you are good for him, then maybe you will be rewarded. Being a good girl should earn something. Right now, you will take anything.

     Hoseok glowers down at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes trail over your features, coming to rest on your pouted lips. He wets his own.

     "You like to run that mouth of yours...how about we see what else it can do?"

     Holy fucking shit. You feel saliva begin to pool under your tongue, your eyes flicking down to the bulge at the front of his slacks. You start to raise your hands toward his belt but he yanks sharply upward on the chain, the metal ring biting into the underside of your jaw, ripping a mewl of discomfort and impatience from your lips.

     He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head as his lips curve into a cruel smile.

     "So eager that she can't even wait for permission?"

     You whimper again, biting your lip as he laughs darkly above you.

     "My little whore wants something, doesn't she?"

     You give a silent nod, letting your tongue slip out to wet your lips and watch his eyes darken as his pupils swallow his deep brown irises.

     "Mmm..." He hums in consideration, bringing his free hand to cradle your chin. "I've told you before, sweet thing, if you want something, you have to ask for it."

     Your eyes blink languidly as you look up at him. Your head is swimming as you sway on your knees, the dizzy helplessness of being spun between degradation and endearment hanging over you like a heavy trance. His fingers tighten around your jaw.

     "Come on..." he coaxes in a chilly whisper, "Use that pretty mouth to ask Hoseok."

     You swallow thickly.

    "Wan..." you start softly, but his grip on your jaw sharpens.

     "Speak up, I can't hear you," he commands reproachfully.

     Heat swells up from your neck and sweat begins to tickle your hairline. You know what you want, you've been thinking about little else since he was pressed against you on the dance floor...but the thought of giving your filthy, aching desires shape has every inch of your body trembling.

    "Wan...want..." you struggle over his fingers pressing harshly into your cheeks. 

     He tuts, and the look on his stony features suddenly warns you that if you don't overcome your nerves...

     "Wan' your cock!" you choke out desperately.

     Hoseok's lids dip slowly and his lips part, as if your words have been injected into his veins, and you think you could fucking cum at the sight. His eyes flutter open again and he gazes down. You fight for patience and composure with each maddening second of silence that passes. You can feel your pussy clench and your hands follow suit. Hoseok catches the motion. A sickening grin spreads over his lips.

     "Want this cock, hm?" he hums, releasing your chin from his grasp to palm over the clothed swell inches from your lips.

     You whimper pathetically, letting your eyes slip shut. Fuck you want him. You want your mouth around him. You want to choke on him. You want the thick, sticky milk of his release on your tongue.

     "So tell me, brat," he hisses, wrapping another loop of chain around his palm so that he holds you on a mere few inches of leash. "How do you want my cock?"

     Any shame has been dispelled from your being in the presence of your burning desire, and you raise heavy, lustful eyes to his dark ones.

     "Wanna suck it off."

     You can see his chest beginning to rise and fall with more effort as he pulls you by the leash, in tortuously slow deliberation, until your lips are ghosting over the zipper of his slacks. He glares down at you, the corner of his mouth curling up in a sneer as he holds you in place.

     "BEG."

     A violent tremor of arousal jolts through your abdomen and you gasp.

    "P-please..." you stammer dumbly against the soft, dark cotton.

     "Again."

     "Please..."

     "Please, what?" 

     "Please..." you breath shakily, "Will you fuck my mouth?"

     You feel him twitch under the vibration of your supplicating words. 

     "Alright," he relents in a rasp, "But keep those hands at your sides, understand?”

You nod.

“Unless,” he tugs at the chain again,”You need to stop. Then you grab my leg and squeeze.”

“Okay.”

“What are you going to do, baby? If you need me to stop?”

“Squeeze your leg.”

“That’s right,” he hums and the repeated instruction.

     You chew on your lip as he pulls off his belt and slips open the button, giving a tug at your collar. As you look up at his hooded eyes, you know exactly what to do.

     You nose at the seam, trying for one moment to ignore the throbbing bulge against your cheek as you find the zipper with your teeth and drag it slowly downward, your eyes never breaking his burning gaze. 

     "Good girl," he hisses, pushing his pants down his hips to reveal a pair of tight, black boxer briefs, a sizable strain pulling at the flexible fabric where he's hard beneath them.

He hooks two thumbs into the elastic and tugs down, his fully erect cock springing free to bob against the side of your face. A sticky streak of precum smears across your cheek as you seek his head with your lips, barely having time to register the smooth tip, or the pretty, pulsating veins as you rush to swallow him whole.

    Hoseok lets out a long, deep groan as you suckle greedily around him. Allowing your spit to slick his shaft you pull back, keeping just the crown between your lips as you worry your tongue along his dripping slit.

     He's rock hard and heavy on your tongue as you lean in to take him farther down your throat, bunching your hands into your dress at the aching urge to cup and stroke the velvet skin of his scrotum.

     "Fuck," he grits out from between clenched teeth, "That's right..."

     You bob lower and lower on his shaft, seeking to take as much of him as you are able. When you feel his tip brush the back of your throat, you moan around him. His free hand flies into your hair, and suddenly he's yanking you off of him. You cough and splutter at the sudden motion and he tugs the chain so that you raise watery eyes to him. He releases your hair to absently stroke himself as he lightly pants over you.

     "Asked me to fuck that throat. Think you can take it?"

     You nod as you attempt to wipe drool pooling on your chin into your shoulder.

     "Words," he pushes, snapping the chain around his wrist.

     "Yeah," you mock, matching his tone, a spark of defiance reigniting inside you.

     Hoseok lets out a hollow laugh.

     "So confident. We'll see about that."

     He slips two fingers of his free hand into the strap of your collar and tugs you back toward his cock. You open wide, extending your tongue to catch the head and pull him between your lips.

You move to swallow him again, but he halts you.

     "Keep still," he mutters coldly, and the fingers at your collar hold you tightly in place as he slowly slides his hips forward in a thrust that has him inching toward your soft palate.

Your eyes water, but you have never been more determined to fight your gag reflex as he pulls back and pushes in again, deeper, his cock tapping again at the back of your throat.

     "Goddamn, you really can take it," he groans in a shaky voice. "Such a good little slut for Hoseok. Such a pretty, filthy little mouth."

     Your nostrils flare as you draw air through your nose, and you swallow, the muscle of your throat contracting tightly around him. At this he seems to break, suddenly pulling back his hips to snap them forward as he sets a rough, self-indulgent pace.

     Your eyes water, spilling over from the brutal stretch and sting, but you dig your fingers into your thighs, determined to take him as long as you possibly can.

     You start to feel light-headed, and just when you think you're going to have to tap out for air, Hoseok's pulling you off of him and wrenching your face upwards to run his wild eyes over it.

    You gasp for breath a moment, and then you're opening your mouth to him again, blinking up through bleary eyes in a silent, hungry plea. He shakes his head slowly as he gazes down at you, chest heaving.

     "Shit, look at you..."

     You're a site. Tears and mascara streak your cheeks, saliva and precum slick your chin and neck, your parted lips swollen. Hoseok's fingers twist where they're still hooked into the collar. 

     "You still want it, don't you? My god..." he smears the tip of his cock along your bottom lip.

Your eager tongue wriggles forward to brush over him again. He swallows, and with a growl he slaps his cock down harshly over it. You let out a little sob as your soaking, aching cunt clenches around nothing. 

     "Alright," he mutters in a husky whisper, "Gonna fucking ruin that tight little throat. Gonna fill it the fuck up. Blow my load all over that nasty little tongue. And you want that, don't you? Wanna be Hoseok's pretty little cumslut, hm?" 

     You nod, and then remember the rules.

     "Yes," you croak, and open wide for him again.

     He grits his teeth and tugs at the collar to pull you slowly over him again with a shudder. You've proven more than capable and it's not long before he's chasing release at a punishing pace. It's sloppy and desperate - the hollow, wet sounds as he fucks your face a pornographic symphony. 

Suddenly you think you can feel his cock twitch and jerk as it hammers into your mouth, and when he grows so incredibly hard, you know he's about to reach his peak.

     You lock eyes with him through your tears, watching his features strain to maintain their composure. Without warning he grabs the back of your head and slams into you, arching over as he cries out.

     And he cums.

     Thick ropes spurt down your throat as he quivers and throbs.

     The moment he's spent his last drop of release he fists into your hair and roughly pulls you back, letting his softening cock fall free. You gasp for breath, coughing as you choke down the last remnants of his seed. Lips trembling, your eyes search his face for what you so desperately need...and you find it.

     His lids are heavy over his eyes, mere glistening slips of midnight visible as they gleam down at you; his beautiful lips are parted as he pants, the honey planes of chest glistening with sweat where his shirt fails to obscure it.

     He's breathless and sated and glorious, and you bask under the intensity of his gaze. He releases his hold on your collar and lets the leash clatter to the ground, bringing his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks, brushing his thumbs over the streaks of tears.

     "So, fucking good for me," he mutters shakily, his brow drawn, "Such a pretty, perfect little brat." 

     Your eyes slip shut under his words of praise. You could move mountains if he asked you to, you were certain. In this moment, in this space, anything for this man. Everything.   

     You feel his hands leave your face as he moves to help you stand, before tugging his briefs back into place. 

The heat of the moment past, you become acutely aware of the stinging soreness in your knees as you struggle to your feet – and the sticky ache of persistent hunger throbbing between your thighs. You teeter on your heels as blood rushes to your lower legs.

Smiling, he reaches out and pulls you to him gently by the waist, swiping a thumb over your chin.

     "You were a good girl, baby. So, so good," He coos in a husky whisper. "You remember what good girls get, hm?" He's still calling the shots and demanding answers, but his eyes are soft as they regard you.

     "A reward?" you answer hopefully.

     He hums in assent.

     "That's right, baby. That's right," He brushes at the smeared makeup under your eye. "But let's get that messy little face cleaned up first." 

     After unfastening your collar he sits you down on the bed, bringing makeup wipes to gently dab away the proof of your efforts, and offers you a bottle of cool water. He comes to sit beside you, eyes tracking you attentively as you drink.

     "Want Hoseok to take care of that needy little pussy?" he asks, with a smirk.

     "Fuck yes," you breath as you lower the bottle from your mouth.

     He arches a brow, and you purse your lips in an attempt not to grin.

     "Please," you add in correction.

     "Mmm," he acknowledges thoughtfully, turning to gaze over his shoulder at the spider plant hanging from the ceiling a few feet past the other side of the bed.

     "Does my little girl want to try something new?" he asks, his eyes still on the suspended planter.

     You feel your pulse quicken and stomach twist in anticipation.

     "Yes, Hoseok, I trust you," you respond without reserve.

     He flicks his eyes to your face, brows drawing together. He wets his lips and huffs out a breathy laugh.

     "You have no goddamned idea what you do to me when you say shit like that."

     You look away, smiling brightly as you preen under the heat and affection of his gaze.

     He reaches for your hand and guides you to rise to your feet.

     "Alright, ditch the dress," he orders, gesturing with a flick of his chin as he leans back on his hands and spreads his thighs in a posture of recline.

     You step back to give yourself space, already weak in the knees at the prospect of stripping for him. You steel your composure, a spark of boldness lighting in your belly. Taking a few steps away and turning from him, you look back over your shoulder to watch his face as you reach behind to slowly drag the zipper down your back. You make a slow, sensual show of peeling the garment from your body to reveal a lacy black balconette bra and matching thong. Stepping out of the dress and tossing it away, in nothing but your lingerie and stilettos, you stride back to stand patiently before him.

     He leans forward and runs his hands up the sides of your thighs until they reach your hips where they slide back to squeeze the meat of your ass.

You bring your hands gingerly to his shoulders. 

Tugging your body toward him, he draws himself to the edge of the mattress, pulling you between his thighs as he uses his sharp, white teeth to nip along the soft flesh of your belly. He sucks harshly at some places, leaving flushed little souvenirs of claim in his wake. You don't hold back the proof of your pleasure - repaying his ministrations with gasps and low moans as his hands and mouth explore you.

     Hoseok raises his face from your skin, his pupils wide as his gaze settles at your breasts. 

"Bra off," he commands, squeezing your ass again as you reach back to unfasten the clasp and pull the straps from your arms.

     He hisses and grits his teeth, raising greedy hands to knead at your supple flesh, before pulling them away to twist and slap at your nipples. 

You groan and throw your head back, relishing in the shocks of sensation – gushing, as if you could ruin your soaked panties any further. As you press your trembling thighs together he glances down at the last remaining vestige of your modesty, lips spreading into a wicked grin.

     "You know I can fucking smell it - how wet you are? My god, want you to wear it like a perfume, fuck..." He runs his right hand to rub against the dampness that has the lace clinging to your slit.

     The moan you let out is so needy it's practically a sob. Hoseok laughs low in his chest.

     Suddenly he’s standing and spinning you around, leading you to the end of the bed. He places your hands on the footboard and instructs you to bend over, sliding your hips back until your ass is on full display. He runs his hands over the bare flesh of your cheeks.

    "Now," he growls, "Can't fuck this ass until it's properly marked, can we?"

     You swallow and let out a whine. The blood is already rushing to your head in a familiar surge and in the split second of silence before impact, you know what's coming - the anticipation somehow even more intoxicating when you remember how it feels when he...

     Smack!

     You whimper, your fingers gripping the bed frame as he delivers blow after searing blow. When he has satisfied himself with the flushed tone streaking the globes of your ass, he gives it a final squeeze, commanding you to wait where you are.

     You hear him as he moves to the side of the bed to pull an object from beneath it. He seems to be grappling with something - the clink of metal and soft rustle of leather interrupting the sudden heavy hush. He returns to your side, taking your hands from the bed and bringing you to stand. As he leads you to the far side of the bed, you see it: hanging from the large hook in the ceiling that once bore the spider plant there is a large leather contraption. You've never seen one in real life, but you know what it is.

     "You have a sex swing?" you murmur in awe, momentarily forgetting yourself as you reach out to brush your fingers over the soft leather. There are buckle straps at different places and a metal bar running across the top. He lightly grips your waist, turning you to face him again. He dips his head forward and you inhale the cool mint of his breath.

     "Gonna put you in it," he murmurs, "You remember our word, right?"

     "Yes," you breathe.

“Say it.”

“Foxglove.”

He smirks.

     "Good girl. Panties off," he instructs.

     You couldn't be more eager to pull the sopping fabric down your legs and toss it aside, but when you reach to remove your shoes, he catches your wrist.

     "I didn't say you could take those off, did I?" he reprimands, and your pulse begins to hammer in your throat.

     He’s gonna fucking strap you to this thing in your goddamned heels.

     You comply with him as he helps you into the seat, fastening your wrists together to a strap that has them raised above your head. After securing your hands, he raises your legs, carefully stretching them so that your feet are on the outside of the wide set cables, hooking your heels to catch on the bar across the top to hold your legs, spread wide, in place. With each restriction he checks in, making sure you’re completely comfortable with his choices. 

When he finishes he comes to stand before you, heaving out a sigh through his nose as he trails a hand down the back of your thigh.

     "Look at you," he groans as his eyes rake over your body.

     You can feel your pussy leaking. Your heart pounds. The muscles in your legs strain a bit from the stretch and the bindings nip into your wrists and feet. You are completely exposed to him...and it is utter perfection. Like you were made to be at his mercy. You blink up at him through the fuzzy haze that keeps intensifying as you relinquish yourself deeper and deeper into his control.

     His eyes slip shut for a moment and he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head before bringing his lips to graze against the back of your calf.

     "Hoseok..." you whisper, trembling. 

     His eyes open and lock with yours. You hold each other's gaze in silence. 

Nothing needs to be said - you both know. You both understand.

     He unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, and after discarding his briefs he is as naked as you are. With one hand he grips your leg, slipping two fingers of the other to slide through the swollen, sticky folds of your cunt. You cry out, your pelvis shuddering - so ripe to be touched that the contact sends a shock like an electric pulse through your being. 

     "What a pretty fucking pussy...so desperate for me," he mutters.

     You watch his beautiful fingers as they slip through your glistening lips and over your throbbing clit before he pulls his hand up. He lets it hover in the air for a moment before bringing it down with a harsh smack against your mound. 

A scream strangles in your throat as he repeats the motion again. Your whole body shakes with arousal. 

He clenches his jaw as he trails his fingers down to your aching hole, dipping in shallowly to gather your bountiful slick. He raises his fingers to his lips, tasting you as he watches you tremble beneath him. He withdraws them with a pop.

     "You know how much you like that? Getting this little cunt slapped?" His eyes trail down. "You're dripping down your fucking ass."

     Shuddering violently, you whimper, tugging impatiently at your restraints.

     "Yah," he warns, and you still. "Guess you're ready for me, huh? Just like that day..." He smirks condescendingly. "You're always ready, aren't you?" He hisses. "Need me so fucking badly...all of the time."

     You sob as your walls contract again and again. He takes his cock into his hand and slides it through your folds, teasing the tip over your clit.

     It's euphoric, but it's not enough. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you fight your own desperate need until the copper taste of blood seeps across your tongue. Somehow, it doesn't even hurt – you can't feel anything past the need for him to fill you. You feel his tip prod your entrance and you gasp.

     “Look at me," he rasps.

     Your eyes snap open. Your legs are shaking, vibrating the entire apparatus as he finally, slowly, sinks into your wet heat. The stretch of him is exquisite, and your eyes roll back in your head as he groans, steadily pulling back to push into you again.

“Shiiiiiitttt…” he hisses through his teeth, “Fucking made for me. Does my little brat like that? Hoseok’s cock stuffing that tight little cunt?”

“M-more…p-please…” you mewl, nearly unable to even form the words as his ridges drag deliciously along your taught walls.

     You're so incredibly worked up that already you can feel a climax building in your belly, and he's only just started to fuck you. Unable to touch him any other way, you squeeze around him tightly.

     He lets out a grunt, picking up his pace as he uses the mobility of the swing to pound you onto his cock. 

You cry out, your head rattling against the leather as stroke after stroke sends you hurtling toward your high. Your mouth hangs open, and your vision begins to blur at the edges, the position of your arms making it harder to breathe. It’s going put you over the edge. He catches your glazed stare.

     "Don't you fucking cum until I say," he grits out breathlessly, and you let out a wail, head falling back. 

     You can feel yourself barely holding on as he slams into you, teetering on the edge as you hear his voice.

     "Whose little whore are you?"

     You try to speak but the words won't rattle out of your chest.

     "Whose?" he booms.

     "Yours!" you press out in a sob.

     "Who do you kneel for?"

     "You!" 

     "Who owns this pussy?"

     "Y-you!"

     "And who the fuck am I?"

     "HOSEOK!"

     "Cum, slut." he growls.

...And you free-fall through time and space.

     The summer evening air is warm against your skin as you step out under the rose gold twilight. Behind you the chic dining venue is still abustle, and you wave coworkers a fond farewell as they head off to continue the evening with karaoke. It's been a big day for you, and there's someone you've been waiting to talk to.

     You press the green call button and wait as the line rings.

     "Yeoboseyo?" 

     The warm voice on the other end has a smile blooming on your lips.

     "Hey, Hobi-ssi!" you hum.

     "Hey hey!" he chrips, "What's up?"

     "Oh, nothing," you respond casually, "Just got done with a company dinner. Someone got a promotion, so we all went out."

     There's a pause on the other end.

     "Oh," answers slowly, "That one you put in for?"

     "Mhm."

     You hear him scoff in amusement

     "Well, at least you seem to be taking it well."

     "I'd say I'm taking it extremely well, which is only natural, considering I got the job."

     "Yes, well...wait, YOU WHAT?!"

     You pull the phone momentarily away from your ear as his joyful, raucous laughter blasts through the speaker.

     "You're gonna make me go deaf!" You chide. Your smile is brighter than the setting sun.

     "I'm so proud of you."

     "Thanks, Hobi."

     "You should celebrate!"

     "I did go out with my work friends...but..."

    "You should come over," he interjects.

  The register of his voice has changed. You recognize the new one.

     "Yeah?" you swallow, as your heart rate quickens. "Well...what if I do want to go to karaoke?"

     You wait for his response, watching your ride share pull up to the curb.

     "Yah - you gonna be a good girl…”

     You hold your breath.

     “...Or do I have to make you?"

-FIN-

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Rock, Meet Hard Place 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss makes a deal that proves less than beneficial for you.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Lloyd Hansen

Author’s Note: This is what you asked for so don’t even.

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself 💜

“Nick the dick. How’s it hanging? Little to the left? I’m a bit to the right myself,” Hansen strides into the room 

His arrival isn’t a quiet one. Fowler’s men put up the alert at their approach and their fearless leader spent several minutes fidgeting in agitated anticipation. As his adversary turned ally walks in, Fowler is already standing, coolly sipping from his whiskey. You’re glad he got it together. You don’t need him cracking right now. 

“Hansen,” Fowler lowers the glass. “Safe travels?” 

“Ah, ya know, got here with my foreskin on,” the mustached man chortles. 

You stare at him. Somehow, you’re not surprised by the trim along his upper lip. He would be the type. You stand quietly by the wall, observing. 

“And this must be the viper,” Hansen points as he turns to face you, “don’t think I didn’t notice you over there, sugar lips. Mm, a bit older than I expected but I don’t mind a vintage.” 

“Hansen,” Fowler girds. 

“Say, got enough of that to go around,” he flicks his index in Fowler’s direction, “I could use a drink about now.” 

“Help yourself,” Fowler remains by the unlit fireplace as he nods to the decanter and an empty glass. 

“You know what, you’re not too bad either. Got them Sinatra eyes,” Hansen grabs the crystal bottle and tumbler and pours messily, dripping some down the side. He sets down the decanter and switches hands, shaking off his fingers. He brings his knuckles up to suck off the excess. “Hard to tell when you’re behind a barrel, you know?” 

Fowler’s eyes wander over to you. You nod and turn your attention to the visitor. He drink sloppily and lets out a belch.  

“Damn,” he glances at you again, “you get anything done around her with her just standing there? Sweetheart, why don’t you do a spin? Bet you’re fine from all angles.” 

“Leave her alone,” Fowler grits. “You know this isn’t chummy. This is business.” 

“Ha, come on, loosen up,” Hansen insists, “finally, the two of us, together. Nothing in this world could stop us--” He pauses and his eyes drift over again. “Can you tell her not to look at me like that? I swear, I just retracted half an inch.” 

He reaches down to adjust the front of his cream-coloured pants. You roll your eyes. Fowler sighs loudly. 

“Damn, baby,” Hansen struts towards you, “do that again. I like that. You got the kinda eyes I want looking up at me--” 

“Don’t come any closer,” you warn. 

“Or what, mistress? Where’s the whip--” 

“Listen to her,” Fowler warns. 

“Ah, come on, we both know who the dangerous one is,” Hansen chuckles as he reaches to touch your cheek. You catch his hand and bend his fingers back. He yowls like a wet cat and recoils. You twist before you let him go. 

“I told you,” Fowler laughs, his first show of ease. 

“Fuck me,” Hansen presses his hand to his stomach. “Vicious. Oh, kitty, kitty, I like that.” 

“I won’t stop her.” 

“I don’t need you to,” Hansen winks. “Let me tell ya, the balls dropped again. Their fucking heavy. I got an idea how to drain them--” 

“Stroke your ego a little harder,” you retort. 

“Oof,” he wiggles excitedly. “How is she in the sack? You a bottom Nicky boy or--” 

Your knuckles crack across his cheekbone and send him stumbling. It’s not the worst you could do but enough to get the message across. Fowler laughs louder than before. 

“I did warn you--” 

“Shhhhitttttttt,” Hansen snarls as he cradles his face. “Hell of a left hook. I thought you were a righty.” 

“I’m a professional, Hansen, so when you address me, it’s not sweet tits or baby or--” 

“Juicy jugs?” He adds. 

You lift your fist to examine your throbbing knuckles and he flinches away, “alright, ma’am. Mistress? Madame? Tell me what you want and I’ll take it like a good boy.” 

“You like to suffer, huh?” Fowler scoffs. 

“Not much else to do in this life,” Hansen retreats and drains what’s left of the liquor. “So, do I get the grand tour or the two of you leave the dungeon in shambles?” 

You shake your head as Fowler wrinkles his brow. He doesn’t answer right away. You feel like you should say something but no better than to take Hansen’s bait. 

“Guess I can take you around,” Fowler utters flatly. 

“I’ll put this away,” you volunteer as you stride forward and cap the decanter. 

“Oh, oh, Nicky, wait,” Hansen smirks as he leers in your direction, “damn, look at that walk. You ever let her step on you?” 

Fowler’s fingers flutter at his side and his nostrils flair, “as I was saying, this way.” 

“No fucking fun,” Hansen grumbles and rubs his reddening cheek, poking out the tick of his tongue at you. “Sweet-- Ma’am, why don’t you do a shot and come join us. Maybe it’ll make us a little less... strangers.” 

“I have work to do.” 

“Work?” Hansen echoes and glances at Fowler, “is that what she calls you?” 

Fowler’s jaw squares. Hansen chuckles and turns to strut up to the other man. He swings his arm back and slaps his ass, giving a squeeze, “relax, I’m having some fun. Not much chance to beat the meat in a convoy full of trigger-happy dudes.” 

You almost laugh at Fowler’s reaction. He recoils and shoves the other man away. He slaps his shoulder and coughs, flabbergasted by the assault. 

“Fuck,” Fowler exclaims. 

“What kinda glute workout you do? Those are tight.” Hansen says. 

“What the...” Fowler mutters then sends you a look. He gestures to you. Better you go. “Hands to yourself.” 

“Fine,” Hansen raises his palms and splays his fingers wide. “Goddamn, what’s a guy gotta do to get off around here?” 

[milliesfishes]

Hi was listening to special death and I CANNOT stop thinking of billy with an x witch reader please 🥺🥺🥺

౨ৎ꣑ৎSpellbound౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: talk of witchcraft, trauma pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: witch reader x billy the kid author’s note: anon, this has been on my mind forever since you sent it I hope you enjoy! Open to doing a part 2 btw let me know <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Billy had always taken a liking to those on the outcast side of society.

Since he himself fell into that category, he paid special attention to the ones those with exorbitant amounts of money declared misfits. They were a curious subject to him since he often discovered them not to be what everyone declared.

When there were whisperings of a new face in town, one passerby pronounced as strange, his attention was piqued. Billy wasn't a gossip by any means, but he leaned in a little whenever he heard someone talking about said soul.

"She's very odd," one woman said as she examined a bushel of apples, not bothering to quiet her tone. "Moved into a little cottage over the glen and hasn't spoken to anyone yet."

"I saw her one morning," her companion said, nodding along. "Out in the hills shamelessly, shoulders uncovered, gathering plants. I'm so glad she hasn't come into town. Although it'd give us a good laugh, I suppose."

Billy stopped listening after that, their facts trickling into fiction. He was used to the way women in the marketplace spoke about each other, and usually he paid them no mind. But this was interesting. Most folks didn't move to this little corner of the world, willingly or not.

As the weeks passed, the whispers about the new woman in town grew louder. When he heard a few men in the saloon talking about her, his interest was really captured. Usually, the only thing they talked about was work or the game at hand. Now the only topic on their tongues was the woman with long hair who did strange things in the woods.

"She's a witch," one older man said earnestly, setting his hand down. "Ain't never seen anythin' like it. Someone oughtta drive 'er out before she curses us all."

"Nah, she won't hurt anyone," another man chortled. "Saw 'er myself the other morning. Timid little thing. The second she saw me she bolted. Doubt we'll hear from her much."

"Gives our wives somethin' new to talk about," the cowboy across from him said, tossing a few coins into the pot. "Good thing too. I was sick of hearin' 'bout who's doin' what at the inn."

A witch? That was a new one. Billy had been told tales of spellcasters both good and evil in his mother's Irish fairy tales, but he'd never heard of one existing. It was a far-fetched notion. One he was keen to discover the truth of. One he didn't know he would stumble upon.

The morning was was misty and cloudy, the sun barely risen over the hills. He hummed to himself as he guided his horse to a forest-y part of the hills. Now was the best time to be out. The world was quiet, the chatter of everything quieted by a required action of unconsciousness.

He peered through the thick branches, dismounting and tying his horse when he saw something moving. There was a little clearing nearby, and he wondered if a deer had wandered in to graze.

But when he got closer, he realized the presence was human. He could make out long hair and a white dress between the leaves. Then when he pushed willow leaves aside, he finally saw you clearly.

Graceful and lithe, you pushed your hair aside as you gathered a purple flower from a bush he recognized as lavender. The thin strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, and he found himself staring at the expanse of skin exposed. As you bent over, he could see the tops of your breasts, a single pendant on a ribbon tucked between them.

Instantly he knew you were the woman everyone was talking about. When they said witch he'd pictured an old crone with gray hair and time worn skin. But here you were, youthful and smooth and lovely.

The way you moved was mesmerizing. There was an air about you that made it impossible to look away. It was more than being attracted; Billy had certainly felt that before. This was something different. This was being drawn like a magnet, being helpless to the pull of your gravity. And you were in your own world, unaware of him, of anything at all.

He watched, captivated, as you tied your lavender with a ribbon, sticking it into a little bag so the purple poked out. Now you were climbing a tree expertly, crawling across a branch that hung over a tall patch of wild roses.

Cocking his head, Billy observed you turn upside down, still hanging from the branch like a sloth. Your hair fell like a curtain he longed to part. You stretched your neck to see below you, squinting a bit. Positioned right over the middle of the large patch, he was confused at what exactly you were doing.

Then in an instant you let go.

Billy's hand stretched out as if he could reach you from where he was standing. His jaw dropped, eyes wider than saucers as he watched you fall like a ragdoll into the mess of brambles and blooms.

He jumped into action, running before he knew what he was doing. Thorns gnawed at him when he pushed through the stems in an attempt to get to you. The result was sharp bouts of pain that made him wince, and he had to stop halfway there, grunting and touching the scratches on his face and arms. His fingers came back bloody.

There was a rustling sound, and your head popped up, eyes wide, plants coming up to your shoulders. With a furrowed brow, you called, "Are you okay?"

Oh, your voice was musical. A song he wished he could sing, a song that wouldn't sound as lovely unless it was coming from your mouth. He managed a half smile. "Ah...little tangled up."

You were moving closer with worried eyes. "Did you fall in?"

"N-no," he managed, disarmed as you came near. Being close to you was like drinking too much whiskey- it sent his head into a buzz. "But you did."

Pausing, your lips parted in realization. Now you knew what he had been trying to do. "I see."

"But you're-" Now you were reaching out a smooth hand, touching his face and turning it to the side so you could presumably see the battle scars from the sharp vines. The feel of your touch cut him off for a moment. He could see your eyes more clearly, and there was a spark in them he couldn't place. Maybe if you stood like this forever, he'd spend an equal amount of time drowning in them.

As you studied him, he studied you. Despite the fact you'd fallen right into the roses, there wasn't a single scratch on you. You were utterly untouched. He opened his mouth to ask, but you frowned, turning his cheek to the side. You took off his hat, so the shadow of the brim didn't disturb your view.

Clicking your tongue regretfully, you looked at him apologetically. "Come with me. I'll get you something for all these..." you gestured at the mess of his bodily afflictions.

Billy didn't think he'd ever be able to say no to you. He merely nodded as you put his hat back on his head, moving elegantly through the bush. The thorns slid over your skin like it was made of glass. He followed you, wincing as the same plants re-scratched him.

Once you were both out, he noticed you were holding a bunch of the wild roses, tied with a ribbon just like the lavender had been. You shoved it into your bag, picking it up and smiling a little at him. "C'mon. I can help you if you want."

A little wistfully, he nodded, looking back behind him. "My horse-"

Like clockwork, his horse appeared from the thicket from where he'd left it. Billy shook his head, sure he was seeing things. You didn't seem surprised by it, however, merely reaching out to the creature.

"Be careful, he-" Billy's warning was lost as he saw his normally finnicky horse nuzzle against your hand. He was baffled.

You handed him the reins. "I don't live very far away."

Powerless to stop your draw, he followed you.

You were quiet on the short journey, facing forward. The sun was higher now in the sky, and it illuminated you beautifully. He had a feeling any element would suit you. Practically one of the earth's daughters, you glowed here as if you were born directly to it.

The cottage in which you resided was simple, surrounded by wildflowers. Vines crept up the walls, kissing the roof. It was quaint and charming, just like you.

He tied his horse at the fence, and you produced a carrot from your bag, feeding it to the animal before leading Billy inside.

The walls were lined with shelves of old books. There were vases of flowers on every surface, but they weren't filled with water as expected. Instead, mounds of little shells held them in place. He could see jars full of herbs and liquids, lit candles lighting the space. You set your bag down on a table in the center, beckoning him to sit.

He did, watching you flit around the room, reading the labels on jars until you found the perfect one, popping the cork and peering inside. Nodding once, you came back over to him. "Here-" you removed his hat once again and dipped your fingers in the jarred substance, dabbing it where the thorn scratches must be.

The paste wasn't unpleasant smelling, and he liked that you were so close. Billy could see clearly your silky hair and smooth body. He wanted to run his fingers over it, see if it was as soft as it looked.

You knelt at his side, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm to put substance over the wounds there too. He smiled at the sight. "Are you a healer?" He didn't know if witch was the correct term.

Looking up at him, you offered him a little tilt upward of your lips. "Is that what they say in town about me?"

"Well..." he squinted as he thought. "Not exactly."

"I figured," you resumed your task, and he enjoyed the feel of your fingers on his skin. "For what it's worth, I do not wish to hurt anyone."

With your kind eyes and seemingly gentle demeanor, he hadn't thought you would. He told you so. Now your smile was wider. "That's nice of you to say. It seems I'm a danger to everybody else."

He shook his head. "You're helpin' me."

You looked up at him with doe eyes, and his heart fluttered. "Do you know what I am?"

Billy was lost in the universe of your eyes for a second. He thought of the way you'd glided through the thorns, retaining nary a remnant. The way you seemed to have such a way about you that was nearly magical. His tone was light when he guessed. "You're a witch?"

Your eyes were unchanging, when he half expected a rain of fire to engulf him. "It's funny. I've had that term lobbed at me in anger a thousand times. But you say it so casually. You say it the way I do."

"My mama used to tell me stories about witches," he nodded, noticing with awe that his scratches were fading into his skin as if he'd never been grazed. "Not all of 'em were bad."

Tilting your head, your smile grew. "She was right about that. It's just like people. Not everyone is fully good or evil. But majority rules."

The way you spoke was so lilted. He could listen for hours. "And you're good."

"I hope so," you said, and he caught a hint of melancholy in your eyes. But you shook it off as quickly as it appeared, rolling his other sleeve up and leaning over his slightly parted knees to put your salve on that arm.

"Did ya live near here before?" he asked, eager for information about you.

You resumed dabbing. "No. I used to live by the ocean."

He caught sight of the shells in the vases again. "'S far from here."

"It is." Standing up, you examined his face again, soft fingers gracing his jaw and positioning his head to the side. Tracing his jawline, you examined the area, fingers ghosting his stubble. "I miss it a lot. It was very beautiful."

"I can imagine," he nodded lightly, careful to keep his head in place. "And have ya always...ah...practiced witchcraft?"

A little giggle escaped your lips at his hesitation. "You can say it. It's okay." Then you shook your head. "No. Not always. But I was in a bad way and a different witch took me in. She healed me. And in exchange she spellbound me."

"Spellbound?" Billy felt like he was pressing for information, but he couldn't help it. You were so fascinating to him.

You either didn't see it that way or didn't mind. "Very few witches are born. They're nearly always spellbound." Now your fingers were in his hair, pushing it back to check for any more injuries. It felt wonderful, and he slightly leaned into your touch. Delicately, you sat on his knee, leaning in to check closer. You smelled like lavender. His hand twitched, wanting to rest on your waist, but he resisted.

"When a witch finds a successor, she gives her powers to someone else," you explained, eyes roving over his face. "Then that someone else is spellbound. They take up the burden of witchcraft and practice it to keep the magic alive until they find their successor. Usually when someone is spellbound, they've been an apprentice to that witch for a while. But she was getting older, and she hadn't found anyone and..." you trailed off, looking away. "It was easier to trade favors."

"There's no way to get out of it otherwise?" Billy questioned, searching your eyes.

"It's dangerous," you confessed. "That's when you give the power back to the earth, where it came from. I've looked into it. But in order for the current vessel of power to remain living afterward, the powers have to be more good than evil. And since they're passed down so many generations, and the vessel often doesn't know by who..."

"You can never know how much good there really was," Billy finished, guessing at it. You nodded, and a spark of pride lit in him.

"It's safer to give them to someone else," you concluded. "I haven't found anyone yet. The last town ousted me out before I could. And by the looks of things, I'm not sure I'll find anyone here either."

Billy could feel the deep sorrow in you like a tangible thing. He wanted to ask you more about it, about what had happened for the other witch to find you, about what exactly you did with your possessed power.

Instead, he reached up tentatively, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "You don't want the burden?"

"It's a heavy thing to carry," you said softly, and it tugged at his heart.

"'F course," he whispered, looking between your eyes. His fingers were still on your face. He couldn't resist drawing a line from your cheek to your chin. You let him, staring into his eyes.

"You're beautiful." Billy said it like a prayer.

"That'll be the magic," you half smiled.

He shook his head, thumb tilting your chin up. "No. It's you."

Before he knew it, he was leaning in, lips ghosting yours, almost like a question. And you responded, hands sliding over his shoulders, leaning into him. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, and the sensation sent him reeling.

You were nothing short of enchanting.

Lips moving, he could feel the magic running through your veins. There was something electric in your touch, something about you that made him need you like water. It was like there was an ocean roaring inside you that he wanted to drown in.

His fingers grasped the ribbon around your neck, finding the pendant between your breasts and grasping it, using it to gently pull you closer. The ribbon untied, and fell from your neck.

Lips separating, you drew back, leaning your forehead to press against his. "Is this how you treat everyone who heals you?"

Billy was drunk off you, and he wanted another hit. "No." He chased your lips, catching them in another searing kiss. Splaying his fingers on your back, he found a fistful of your dress.

You let him kiss you lazily for a moment, lips dragging down to your neck, then your collarbone. Oh how he loved your collarbone. Nosing against it, he showered a series of soft kisses there.

Then he felt something brush against his leg. Pulling back, he looked down to find a black cat purring as it pawed at his shin. You followed his eyes, smiling slightly. "Sorry...that's Fish. He likes people."

Keeping the hand holding your pendant around your waist, Billy reached the other hand down and scratched Fish's head. "'S alright. Seems like a good fella'."

He could feel you watching him interact with the cat, and you didn't sway your eyes when he lifted his own to meet them. Smiling, he leaned in, pecking your lips once, then twice. That made you smile in turn, and you nudged your nose against him, hands on the sides of his face.

Noticing he was holding your pendant, you uncurled his fingers, tracing the shape of it against his palm. It was an oval, framed by gold. There were three little stars in the center, and you touched each one before folding his fingers over it again. "Keep it."

Billy looked up at you again. "You-?"

Both your hands came to clasp around his. "It's a witch's symbol. How we know each other. But I've been here for weeks and haven't found anybody. And I'm not going to find a successor. Keep it."

He wanted to protest the hopelessness of the statement, your resignation to the fact that you'd be weighed under your powers forever. But you seemed determined.

So, he intertwined your fingers, the pendant pressing between palms. Then he lifted them to his lips, kissing your knuckles. A promise to keep it safe.

Billy kissed your nose, and then breathed, "D'ya feel it?" The pulsing hypnotism that overwhelmed him whenever he looked at you, that sensation that he knew wasn't just the magic residing within you.

You traced runes into the skin of his cheek, pressing your lips there when you were done. "I feel it. This is real power."

Next part

[agirlwholovesrockstars]

don't you forget about me

☆ EDDIE MUNSON'S MASTERLIST ☆

❣ AGATHA'S MAIN PAGE ❣

๑ Summary : will you be true to your word that you won't forget about Eddie when both of you stood on your ground with your hopes and dreams succeeded?

๑ Word Count : idk if y'all like longer fics, but I'm just eyeballing it on the right amount, I'm so excited for this one hehe

๑ Warnings : 18+ Songwriter!Eddie Munson x Popstar!FEM!reader, cursing, use of y/n, highschool classmates, set in modern era (but with 80's aesthetics) Eddie is (21), reader is (20), Eddie is also very shy doesn't know how to express he feels but he cares, reader is jittery and rambles when she's nervous! VERY CUTE! I promise :))

๑ What to Expect : friends to lovers, unrequited feelings, FLUFF! this can be slightly awkward but I am a woman of my word it would be absolutely adorable!

๑ Note To Reader : I just had this idea that Eddie and reader while reunite after so many years later and they both can't handle that their friendship has never changed! it's still pretty rock solid! 😭🫶🏻✨

๑ Author Note : I worship John Hughes films, so, you know the drill! 😉 and um- sorry if I'm bringing myself some of my fics in this but the beginning happened to me in real life, so, yes, I miss that specific person (yeah the same guy that had a crush on for 10 fucking years 😃👍🏻) I haven't seen him since 2018 👀

"Stop- what are you doing?!" you said to him while having a breathy laugh

He smirks as he looks at you within his eyelashes as he tries to hold you still while writing something down on the back of your hand

"Eddie, this is ridiculous" you say to him as you shook your head sideways but a fond smile is sitting on your lips as you glanced at your back a bunch of students are hollering in excitement for the school year end because knowing damn well that whatever he is written down on your hand it will not stay, it would be easily removed once you took a bath when you get home

But, you don't mind it anyways, you smile at him as you watch him curiously as you can see his lips muttering different words under his breath as he writes

"You're the one who is being ridiculous" he says to you not looking at your eyes yet

You chuckle at his reply as you playfully roll your eyes at him

"There" he says as he brings back the cap of his blue ballpen, you heard it with a click

You bring your hand close to your face as you read what it says

"Don't let anyone else stop you for following your dream"

you lightly giggle when some of the words are not aligned as it goes wonky down on the back of your hand but still it's nice and you liked it

"Don't forget about me when you get famous with your singing career" he leans forward to get close to you, so, you could hear him clearly

The hallways are filled with whooping and screaming in excitement of students that are cheering for the school year end, Eddie chortled at the sight of it

You missed the way he looks at you

You raised your head as you flash him a sweet adoring smile as you nod

You shyly taken a back from his words of encouragement that really meant true as you judge by his tone

You snort "Okay, Eddie"

A smile tugs to his lips as he leans his back on the railing as he spoke again "I mean it, Y/N"

You look back at him and you directly look into his eyes

"Just don't ever forget about me, okay?"

It's very heartwarming to you that he is so kind "Of course, I will never forget about you, Eddie"

How would you ever forget Eddie Munson?

When he's the only one guy in your school campus who is so respectful towards you?

That was 2016, nine years ago

You've been classmates since 7th grade and even though you don't both have the same section from 8th grade and 9th grade

You still see each other and interacted a little

You kinda wish that he was still your classmates all those years

Sometimes, though, you winced at the memories when you're with him, you cringe at it at how you make things weird and awkward

You hate it when you get all so jumpy and nervous around him, I mean- it's just Eddie but the problem is that he doesn't know that you just realized it back in 8th grade that you finally figured it out that you developed feelings for him

You both weren't exactly close

Yeah, both of you tease each other and make fun and silly jokes sometimes

Yes, you both have a few conversations and slightly deeper talks about both of your families when your teacher on P.E class partnered the both of you together for the dance project

That's the only time that you ever both talked real to each other

That little moment, until now is still vivid to you

But still, you're not that close to him

He was just a good friend or maybe just a good classmate that you had

You encountered him again back in 2018 when both of your paths crossed while being on the escalators

You noticed him first but before you call out to him, you made sure that it was him because you moved on to another school after 9th grade, so, pretty much something's have changed but him?

He never did, he is still stylish as ever and so are you

But of course, both of you grew up

You're now already looking at him and you expect him to notice you, so, you didn't do anything at first and when you both finally met in the middle of the escalator and he is still doesn't saw you on the other side and he is mere inches close to you and you're too fucking shy to call his name out, you tried to tap on the handles to make a sound but no to avail, as you had no choice but to say his name

"Eddie!"

He whipped his head around the second you call him

He smiles and leans back forward as the both of you stare at each other

You shyly wave at him as you duck your head down to look at where you're going

From the corner of your eye, you saw him reached at the end of the escalator, his eyes still locked on you

But goddamn, it's 2024, you're 20 and he's 21

Both of you are college students now

Your feelings for him remained the same way and all of the crushes that you had from elementary to highschool

He's the only one ever to take over your heart this long

So long that sometimes, you wonder, if you try to confess it, so, it will be all over

But isn't that embarrassing? since well....

You haven't seen him since what?!? 2018???

2018 was the last time you ever saw him

You also haven't talked to him for years

Besides, seeing him on his Instagram profile but that doesn't count

But you did some risky stuff and you made such a big deal out of it because you're too overreacting with your giddy feelings for him

Like for instance

You complimented him on his Instagram stories in 2021 and he only heart reacted on it

You greeted him on his birthday for the first time ever in 2022 (you're wishing that he won't find it weird that you know his birthday and you hoped that he still remembers that he also wrote on your slambook back in 7th grade, that's why you knew) you also send your pictures with him from the field trip that you both had in 8th grade

And that right there, you received a message

A message that is so short but so endearing and it really means a lot to you

He says that he is sorry for not reaching out to you after all of those years passed and he is glad that you hadn't changed ever since then and he appreciates and he is so grateful for the highschool memories that you both had together

Even it's just a short amount of period at that time

2023, you greeted him again on his birthday but he only said thank you

You kinda hoped that he'll message you

But, girl- thank god that you aware of the term called "reality check" because why would he message you all of the sudden since that you both didn't knew very well

You sigh in hopelessly romantic manner wishing that he'll talk to you someday

Yeah, a smile grows on your lips all the time when you always receive a notification that he likes your posts

Damn, only a notification from him already lightens up your day

How fucking great, that's how pathetic it is

"5 minutes then you're good to go!"

Okay, fast forward from your train of thoughts, right- you got a show to run

You're a popstar now and you made it like you always wanted to be

Despite, everyone from your school bullies tries to pull you down

Eddie

Eddie is the only one who believed in you and supported you all the way even both of your lives are different now than before

While in the autograph signing table

"You're such an inspiration!" A young girl said as she beams up as she watches you sign up of your portraits photograph

"Thank you so much, sweetie! I'm very happy to hear that, did you had fun?"

She aggressively nods as she starts bopping up and down on her heels in excitement, you chuckled at that and you gave back the signed picture of yours to her as she gives you huge smile as she takes her leave

You didn't noticed the next person as you start signing

"As you walk on by, will you call my name?"

The sound of the person's voice is too unreal for you to hear and to register of what you just heard as you paused on what you're doing as you slowly raise your head up at the person who is standing in front of the table across from you as you gasp that you thought you're not going to see him again after 2018

But, now, here, he is finally once again

You've always dreamed about this

You've always wanted this to happen

It's unbelievable

You know that face and voice and that iconic smirk on him as you take him in

"Eddie?" You're still gasping in shock as you cupped your mouth in surprise as you look around you and your eyes are twinkling as he looks down on you in adoration and now the other fans that are waiting in line are getting curious and they flash you a smile as they relished and witness the reunion of the both of you

He grins as he nods as he shoved his hands onto his pockets "Ah- she remembers me!" You giggled to his classic antics

He hasn't changed

You could hear everyone who is asking, the buzzing "who is he?" "omg- they knew each other?!?" "wait- maybe he is the guy from her songs!"

You're too overwhelmed from all of this that you almost forget that you have to sign all of the pictures

You motion for him to lean down as you say "Can you wait for me backstage?"

He smiles "Yeah, sweetheart- I'll meet you there"

You sheepishly smile at him again as you gave him access that made everyone eyes goes wild, the crowd seems to go nuts over it

And by that the following question had been like this

"Who is the lucky guy?"

"Why is he getting the special treatment?"

"Is he your boyfriend?"

You don't give them all the personal information from your life and all the details but you confirmed that he is the guy from your songs and you love how your fans squealed and get thrilled from this

After an hour, the show is over and you bid goodbye to your fans and thank them for attending, you stretch your arms out and massage your neck as you exhale as you headed into the backstage

"Y/N's a star now" he leans his back on the wall as he smiles at you

He says the moment you moved the curtains on the side as you snort at his comment

You went into the small comfort room as you change your clothes into much more relaxing attire

"Hey, Eddie, I hope you didn't get bored for waiting"

"Nah, I don't mind it- sweets"

Once you get dressed, you open the door, so, you can talk to each other as you start to remove your makeup with a cotton pad as you double cleanse with rinsing it thoroughly

He watches you put a tinted lip balm on your lips, he swallows as he hangs his head low for a while

You groan at the hairstyle that you had earlier but you absolutely loved it getting all glammed up but you're just so tired and wanting to get this everything off so you can get to rest

Both of you kept talking but you didn't notice how he looks at you and watches your every move from removing the pins and hair ties from your hair from brushing it and you let your hair down as you grab your shoulder bag

He is so entranced by you like as you do too

Only if he knew

And only if you knew

His daze has cut off the time when you're literally now in front of him, he snapped out of it when he tries to recall of what you just asked him

"Do you want to walk outside?"

"Y-Yeah sure, come on, let's go"

You told your crew that you'll be back and you look out for them and always saying thank you for getting the job done

The walk was.....pleasing....but too quiet for you

It seems like Eddie can read your thoughts as he finally spoke up

"How many years had passed?"

A knowing smile is showing onto your features as you glanced at him

"9 years"

He raises both of his eyebrows "Damn" as he chuckles in disbelief

"Yeah" the smile still lingers on your lips

"Did you get to do it?"

"Do what?"

"Your band? Corroded Coffin?"

There's a glint on his eyes as he stops to his tracks as he stares at you for a moment

"What?" You ask him in confusion

"Nothing, it's just- you still remember that?" He tilts his head at you as he squints his eyes

"Well, of course! you told me not to forget about you, right?"

"You're always true to your word, sweetheart, I like that for you"

You both sat down on the bench in front of the fountain as you watch random kids playing

He sighs but he notices that you're awaiting for his answer as you quirk an eyebrow at him as he snorts

"Uh, no- Jeff, Gareth and Me, played for 4 to 5 years, I think? We had a blast but I realized that being a rockstar, it's not for me permanently"

"But, I thought you always wanted to be rockstar"

"Yeah, well, we got a record deal for a while-"

"What?!? Really?!?"

He chuckles to your excitement as you turn your whole body facing to him

"Yup, and we- uh- did a little tour here and there but, it just felt like that's not what I was looking for" he shrugs as he looks down as he starts to fidget his rings

You notice that, you always do, it's his nervous habit, you smile at him sadly

"How about Jeff and Gareth?"

"They got all their own ambitions and all of us took the same thing and we agree to not totally disband but, maybe, someday I don't know in the future, we'll get back to where we started"

You nod at him in understanding "I still feel superior to be one of the very first audience" you smirk

He whips his around at you at that and he blinks slowly like he just had a flashback

Yeah, if he's supportive to you and so do you

"the most loud cheerier ever, I gotta say" he laughs as you facepalmed as you can remember all of it

"So, what do you do now?"

"Uh, I'm a songwriter"

You react in delightful way and he chuckles at your face that you make

Both of you reminiscence your highschool memories as both of you look back at it

"Y/N, you-"

"Yeah?"

He hesitates for a few seconds as he chuckles as he dismissive his hand at you

"It's getting late" he says as he clears his throat

Your smile slightly falls as you glanced on your watch

It's been 2 in half hours

"I guess, we better get going then"

You both stand up as he walk you through the parking lot

You dig your nails through your palms as you think twice if you should tell him right away how you really feel about him

You can't chicken out now

You're not a kid anymore, you can take the rejection and well....

At least you tried, so, it will bring you peace

You've been fighting for your whole life not to ask him before, it's plaguing every year passed

Only a few more steps, you can sight your van

You took a deep breath, you know you'll make a rambling mess out of a speech but you don't care

"Eddie" you say as you turn around to look at him

He raises his head the moment you call his name

You walked closer to him as he looks at you as he waits for you to speak

"I know this is going to sound so out of place but uh- I have feelings for you since we we're 7th grade, I didn't know that I had it since I just suddenly realized it when we we're in 8th grade and ever since then and now I still have it for almost 10 years and it's okay, you don't have to-"

"I know"

You're stunned, you can't function to speak anymore

"I-I'm sorry?"

"I know and I'm aware of it"

He can't just say that to you like it was nothing

You're definitely screaming inside to this mind-blowing revelation

Your cheeks starts to glowing red as you feel all bashful to his gaze

Your eyes suddenly can't manage the hold to look in his anymore

"Even before?" You whisper as you wrap your arms to yourself

He's now the one who moves towards you

You're appalled and you didn't even noticed that your mouth is hanging agape as you shut it and swallow

"How did you find out?" You ask without looking at his eyes

He runs his tongue over his lips "from Gareth, and you know him he's got a big mouth and all that"

You close your eyes in humiliation as you bite down your lip

Fuck

You shouldn't have been talking to him or giving a clue

But, sometimes though, you give hints when you're having a conversation with him

Gareth, somehow, finds the missing puzzles and figures it all out

Traitor

You couldn't stand here and you feel ashamed of what you just did, my god, what are you thinking?

"Listen, uh- it's good to see you, I gotta go" you say as your drag your heels to walk away from him as fast as your feet can take you

But, he reaches out and holds your wrist making you stop

"Y/N, don't go"

"Why?"

"Because-" he sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair

"I'm no expert in showcasing my feelings, okay? I-I'm shy"

Your entire discomfort of being flustered has completely washed away

You find it amusing, well, Eddie has always been shy but really???

There's nothing to be mousy about when he's with you

"You're shy?" You echoed what he just said as you pursed your lips together

He scratches the back of his neck as he clicks his tongue as he nods his head slowly

You exhale "Well, fuck- Eddie, I'm shy too! I can't even blurt it out loud of what I've been carrying for what?!? 10 years?!?"

You start pacing back and forth in front of him as he breathes through his nose

"See, Eddie, I've always liked you, okay? or maybe I took your kindness way out of line" you throw hands up

He gave you that doe eye look and you avoid looking at it as you continue rambling at him

"I can't even comprehend why? Why am I still clinging onto you for all these years? I hate that you still made me swoon over you and make me feel things!"

His mouth starts to slowly hanging open to your subtle confession

"You know what's unbelievable to me? Is that you don't know me and I don't know anything about you but still it feels like I knew you even though we don't talk a lot back then and it hurts, it hurts that you're so big-hearted and it pains me that you're just so mellow person" your voice cracks and that's where the time the water works starts to fill up in your eyes

You sniffle as you quickly wipe your tears from your cheeks "You're the only guy that has ever been so nice to me, the only who cared, the only one who hasn't changed towards me since highschool, I don't even know what's the reason why"

He is still remains silent, probably still processing every information that you just told him

His eyes softens and his heart is begging to leap forward outside of his chest

"Y/N" he holds your forearm softly as he runs his thumbs over it, you shivered from his touch

"Have you ever wondered why I still don't have a girl beside me?"

He is still single?!? What?!?

You gulped as you look at him with hopeful eyes and tear-stained cheeks

He smiles down at you as you scrunch up your face in a shameful way that you don't like him to see you crying like this

Oh

That's right

You haven't seen anyone with him since elementary or highschool

He had a couple of silly crushes that you heard from your classmates before but still

You don't saw anyone else with him

And that alone made you think a lot since Eddie is not an asshole, it's mind-boggling

You're still in denial that you might think he has the same feelings for you

As if

"Eddie- I think you're a great human being, anyone is lucky to have you"

He chuckles slightly as you dodged his point

"I didn't date because why?"

You take all the courage that's left inside of you as you look at him

"You already have my heart, darling"

Your eyes flutters to his admission, your heartbeats faster that it might burst any second

He likes you?!?

"A-Are you sure? I don't u-understand- why didn't you m-make a move before?" You stuttered, your voice sounds so small and it makes his heartache

"I was a coward" he pulls you closer to him your eyes widen but you melt to his touch

"W-What about the messages that I sent you? Does that mean anything to you?" A sprinkle of insecurity is showing through your tone and he catches it, he reassures you that it means a lot to him

He grins at the birthday wishes that you make before

"I appreciate them all, I-I just didn't know how to express it in there, so, when I found out that you're have a show in here, maybe it's time to take it to the next level, it feels it's the right thing to do in person"

He embraces you for the first time and the only time that you ever became this much closer to him, you feel his warmth enveloping you his arms surrounding you in the most cozy way possible, you sigh in content as you squeeze him

"Feel better?" He asks as he still holds you tightly

"Yes" you whisper softly as you smile against his chest inhaling on his scent, it's intoxicating

The moment you pushed yourself away from him, you slipped on the thin ice as his reflexes are fast enough to catch you before you can hit the icy cold ground

You gasp as your eyes goes everywhere to his face as you held on him to stabilize you to get back up on your feet

He's so mere inches close, his eyes sparkle as he stares at you

He slowly lifts you back on, both of you didn't break eye contact

He can't help himself as his hand crawls at your waist to flush your body against his, you fight for your breath for the idea that he's about to do

His eyes flits through your eyes and to your lips, he goes for it as you close your eyes as you kissed him back

"Is it too late?" The smugness is radiating off of him when you chase his lips to peck on it

"I think we both waited on the right time" you say as you kissed his cheek

His cheeks blooms red as he dramatically freaked out as you let out a fit of giggles

"I'm relieved that you're patient to finally let me get out of my shell"

"Oh, be thankful that I have a wide patience or else I'll fucking lose it"

He laughs as he rest his forehead against yours

"You're the most perfect girl ever"

You smile brightly "And you're the most perfect boy ever"

Your crew call out to you saying that you have interview tomorrow morning

"Be with me?"

"Forever?"

You snort as you elbowed him as he catches you off guard pressing another kiss to your lips

"I love you, Y/N- you have absolutely no idea"

彡★

[yeehawbvby]

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun | Ch. 5

March x F!Farmer

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: Juniper being a little shit leads into March and the farmer taking a bath together

Author’s Note: This isn't as spicy as the description makes it out to be kaelikgnvr it's actually a very silly chapter imo :3c

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

December knew she was screwed from the moment she locked eyes with Juniper the next day.

She wasn’t a fan of the witch, knowing that she could barely be trusted. She was like March in that she seemed to hide compassion beneath a rough exterior, but she was so self-centered, not stopping to think of the consequences her concoctions could have on people before handing them over. Where March used mean words to protect himself, Juniper used mean words and magic. A lethal combo — quite literally, considering one of her first interactions with December nearly killed her.

One near-death experience was enough for the former athlete. On that day, her typically calm demeanor had shattered and she went into a panicked fit of rage, baffled that the alchemist could be so careless.

The farmer couldn’t deny the entertainment that came from hanging out with her though. So as she entered the facility, made a bee-line to pet Dozy, and greeted Juniper and Celine — who were sat with cups of tea on the nearby couch — she was content. 

But then she looked up, and her stomach dropped at the mischievous glint in Juniper's eyes.

Her tone dripped with annoyance as she asked, “What?” while claiming a floor cushion and leaving Dozy to continue his nap.

“You’ve been a naughty girl.”

“I—” December blinked a few times, as if to buffer. “What?”

“What do you mean?” Celine wondered too.

“Pheromones are nothing to be ashamed of, December.”

“What are you, a dog?”

“Don’t be silly. Many mammals can sense these things!”

“And bugs,” Celine chimed in. 

”For fuck’s sake,” December mumbled, placing her face in her hands. 

“So, how was March? I assume he has good stamina…”

The farmer heard a tiny gasp from the blonde. “Caldarus save me,” she whined under her breath, extending the last word. It was barely audible, but Juniper heard it, her signature chortle booming in the wake of the farmer’s prayer. “I did not have sex with March.”

“Well, I suppose you do have plenty of Mistria’s residents wrapped around your dirty little farmer fingers…”

“What do y— ah!” As December lifted her view to ask what Juniper meant by that, she was startled by a delighted Celine seated next to her, leaning into her space.

She’d just been on Juniper’s couch a second ago. How did she move so quickly and quietly?

“You had sex with March?” she teased.

“No!” December nearly shouted.

Celine stared wide-eyed, feeling tickled as she viewed such strong emotions from her friend for the first time.

This wasn’t Juniper’s first rodeo.

December noted, though, that while she denied the accusation her voice seemed to… echo? 

She looked up at Juniper, who was looking at the bathhouse’s entrance, an incredulous, dangerous smile painting her features.

December and Celine both kneeled tall to peek over the lockers behind them, laughter bubbling in Celine’s throat and December’s face color-matching the pink crystal nearby as they saw a shocked March at the door.

“Wh-what did you tell them?!” he asked, briskly joining the three women. 

“Nothing! Juniper… smelled my pheromones, or something?” 

March furrowed his brows and shot a cold look at the purple-haired woman. “What are you, a fucking dog?”

“Aww,” Celine cooed, “December said the same thing!”

Juniper snickered. “A match made in heaven.”

“Mind if I go drown myself?” December asked while March groaned.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Juniper waved dismissively. “You know what? Why don’t you two enjoy a bath together, on the house!”

December and March stared deadpan at her, Celine struggling to stifle her mischievous little laughs next to them.

March thought, fuck it. Why not? A free bath is a free bath.

“Okay.”

As he answered, he crouched down to grab December’s hand, then pulled her to her feet.

“Wait, what?”

“Have fun, you two,” Celine waved, going back to her spot near Juniper while March tugged a frazzled December alongside him.

As the pair passed through the curtain to the locker room, December’s head swam. What did he mean by this? Was he just trying to prove a point? Was he mad at her for talking about him with others, even if she didn’t actually tell them anything?

They came to a stop, and December immediately decided to clarify, “Juniper started it…” She mentally slapped herself for sounding so childish.

March raised a brow, entirely unbothered. “You think I don’t know that?” He unclasped her hand and went to his locker, telling her as he put in the combination, “She likes to instigate. Of course she started it.”

His locker now open, March removed his shirt and tossed it in. December’s eyes widened before she averted them, trying to look anywhere but the man in front of her; and noticing this, he felt a little proud.

Deciding not to say anything about that — and wondering, was this character development? — he shifted his thoughts, scanning her fully clothed body. “So? Are you coming in or what?”

Her mouth opened and closed. She repeated the action. Pursed her lips, zoned out on nothing in particular. Then, she tied her hair up, preparing to keep it out of the water — because just as March had thought in front of the others, she figured, why not.

December went to her own locker, just two left of March’s, and began to undress too once it was open, not caring if he saw her in her underwear. She’d seen him topless at the beach a few times over the summer, and likewise, he’d seen her in a bikini. What was underwear, she thought to herself, if not a socially unacceptable bathing suit?

It wasn’t like she had anything fancy on, either: just an old grey bra with some loose threading on the left strap, and equally old black panties with lace along the top edge that had torn in several places from years of wear. She was pretty sure it had a small ribbon on the front too at some point, but it was long gone if so.

March, remembering how December responded to his brief praise the night prior, decided to mess with her a little. It was rare he had something to hold over her anymore, so he figured he might as well take the chance. 

“Atta girl,” he settled on. 

It has his desired effect — because oh gods, she did not need to hear that while they were taking their clothes off — but she hid it well. Turning away to hide her blush and grab a towel, December mumbled, “Shut up,” before wrapping the fabric around her.

She wiggled out of the rest of her garments within the confines of the lavender terry cloth, praying to the gods, the priestess, whoever was out there that it wouldn’t slip down. After a successfully completed mission, she turned back around. 

March was leaning back against the lockers, his strong arms crossed against his torso and wearing nothing but the towel tied around his waist. His hair fell slightly different without his headband holding it in place. It had a handsome messiness to it. And he hadn’t been looking at her, instead busying himself with inspecting the new plants and crystals Juniper decorated the room with for the new season; but he could practically feel the holes December’s gaze had been drilling into him while she ogled, her brain short circuiting entirely.

He smirked on the side of his face she couldn’t see before turning his head towards her, giving it away immediately. Seeing him smile made her smile, and at that sight, he immediately dropped it. 

March was still March, after all.

He nodded to the other curtain that led to the bath and started walking. December, wanting to lighten things up a bit, shouldered him to the side a smidge and walked ahead, stealing the lead. 

“Are we racing now?” March scoffed. “What is this?”

“In a bathhouse?” December looked at him over her shoulder. “I’d never do something so irresponsible.”

“Yeah? Get back here then.”

She picked up her pace to a brisk shuffle (well, more of a waddle) until she got to the cubbies where bathers could leave their towels, sandals, and whatever else they brought with them while they soaked. March couldn’t help but laugh a little while her half-assed bun threatened to evade the security of its hair tie with each bounce.

“You’re a goblin, you know.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Does it?” he questioned, unconvinced.

“Don’t know, I’m not a goblin,” the farmer quipped, then ordered, “Turn around.”

He shot her a glare before doing as he was told. Sure, he was stubborn, but he wasn’t going to violate her for the sake of it. 

Thanks to whatever salts and serums Juniper enchanted the water with, the bath had an ethereal blue glow that made it nearly impossible to see anything below the surface. It wasn’t uncommon for villagers to bathe together for this reason. Before now, though, December had rarely shared the space, and it had only ever been with other women to boot.

A few times were with Elsie, who seemed to be here so often, but she was always a delight in December’s eyes with her dramatic yet adorable love for love itself. She was happy to relax with the older woman and listen to the tales of her past suitors and scandals, whether they were true or not. The only other occasion was after completing the General Store’s upgrade: Adeline treated herself, December, Nora, and Celine all to a long soak with some face and hair masks to celebrate their hard work. She’d extended the offer to Ryis and Holt too, but they shyly declined.

The nerves were high for a moment as December kicked off her slides and unwrapped her towel, but that was quickly replaced by peace as she slipped into the water, almost immediately feeling its rejuvenating effects on her weary body. While she felt lightyears better than the previous day, it was incredibly rare for her to be fully pain-free. In Juniper’s weird, magical healing water, though, she always was. She’d live out the rest of her days on this very bench if she could.

“You’re good,” she told March once she was safely situated. 

He noticed as he turned that she’d leaned on the outer trim and kept her face in her arms so that he could join her comfortably, so he made quick work of removing his own towel to do so. 

Feeling a bit dastardly, he entered the water as gently as he could, hoping to not indicate that he was in yet. After that success, he announced his presence with a splash to December’s back and neck.

She startled at the feeling while wondering why she was being snuck up on for the second time since arriving here. It didn’t seem very fair.

She whipped around, carrying a small wave of water with her arm and sending it his way. It hit him square in the face… thus beginning a war.

They spent a solid ten minutes of their bath just splashing back and forth, trying to get the other to forfeit. Several times throughout this they forgot where they were, nearly turning the fun altercation into a wrestle that was only stopped by a single touch of skin on skin and an apologetic swear.

December’s hair tie was eventually abandoned as she felt her bun grow heavy, the hair soaked despite her best efforts to prevent that; and, taking that as a victory, March snatched it from her to put his own hair up into a tiny, pathetic ponytail directly on top of his head.

“Looks stupid,” December chided.

“You look stupid.”

She furrowed her brows and gave him another splash aimed at his eyes.

The baths were full enough to cover the body but shallow enough to stand in, so March still had a height advantage over December. That said, while the smith wiped his face with his hands, she made a move to snatch her accessory back. She was careful to keep a forearm over the center of her breasts while she lifted herself to reach it — they couldn’t be considered that large in the grand scheme, but in comparison to her small frame they were. She did her best to hide what she could.

The brief sight of so much of her porcelain skin, which glistened like dew on snowdrop anemones in the wake of their battle, obscured only by more of her skin, unlocked something carnal in March. He wanted to keep things light and fun, and assumed she did as well; but he couldn’t bring himself to bother hiding his face, which was now bright enough to rival his hair dye. 

When the farmer looked back over at her friend, she snorted out a laugh. He looked like he was keeping something at bay, with his cheeks red, forehead crinkled, brows furrowed and mouth straightened.

She was clueless. To her, it looked like he was holding in a fart.

“What are you doing?”

“N-nothing, shut up.”

She made a move to smooth his wrinkles away but was rejected with a light swat. Trying to distract himself, March made a move to poke at her face too. Rather than just pushing his hand away in return, though, December reacted quickly, biting down on the digit. 

Through the incredulous laugh that made its way out despite his best efforts, March exclaimed, “Ow?!”

He hadn’t moved his finger though, so December stood her ground. “Y’know,” she said to the best of her ability, “All y’haveta do ish take it out.” She maintained eye contact and a shit-eating grin the entire time

Deciding to fight back, March poked further in. The abrupt motion forced December’s mouth open and away while she coughed, trying not to gag at the sudden prod to her tonsils.

While reaping his rewards — the sound of the farmer’s joy (if he ignored the coughing fit he’d sent her into, at least), as well as having his finger back from the prison that was her teeth — March realized just how comfortable they’d gotten with each other. He enjoyed getting to be so silly with her. To be able to mess around and be this, for lack of a better word, stupid with her without worrying about things being strange. He’d never really had this with anyone before. He had friends, but rarely got close enough with anyone for them to break down his facade so naturally.

It was amazing, but it also worried him a little. As his companion’s struggle died down, he wasn’t sure if he felt more lucky or terrified. He couldn’t put his finger on why the idea of all this was so intimidating...

The farmer’s smile dropped upon seeing the concern that coated March’s face. “What’s up?”

He couldn’t just tell her that he felt scared by their friendship, their relationship, whatever was happening. He couldn’t possibly admit to being that goddamn cowardly, especially when she was looking at him so expectantly. With so much care.

Maybe even with love of her own.

So, he did what he does best — other than caging in his emotions behind a veil of grumpiness, that is.

He reacted physically.

While he didn’t have the ability to take out his feelings on some metal, he could kiss them aside, given that bridge had now been crossed; so the blacksmith answered wordlessly, scooping December closer to him by the back with one hand and tilting her head up with the other. He paid no mind to their bare bodies grazing beneath the water, even letting himself smile amusedly against her lips as she breathed a surprised gasp through her nose and balled her fists against his chest. 

December went through a variety of emotions. 

Was she flustered? Absolutely.

Embarrassed? The tips of her naked chest were skimming his lower ribs, of course she was embarrassed.

Confused? For sure. 

Scared? Yes, but only at the prospect of getting caught. 

But as March deepened their kiss, as December wrapped her arms around his neck, as March wrapped the hand that was on her back around to her opposite oblique to pull her completely flush to him, all of those racing thoughts fizzled away, becoming nothing but static in the back of her mind. 

The kiss was sweet. It would be easy to think of it as erotically charged, but it was gentle and passionate and full of so much love that it didn’t matter if they were undressed. They were just existing together — and happily, at that.

They pulled apart for a moment, and December could’ve melted away upon seeing the amount of care in March’s gaze. The same could be said for him. Hearts racing and minds blank, they watched each other, as if waiting to see who would make the next move, and what that next move would even be…

Unfortunately, the next move was December turning away with a yelp and submerging herself underwater to hide. The next move was March jumping slightly and walking in the opposite direction of her, running a hand through his wet hair and placing the other on his hip.

Because just as the blacksmith was going to try gathering his thoughts to put into words, the duo heard an elated gasp from none other than the romantic expert of Mistria herself. 

“Oh, I knew it was only a matter of time!” 

March rubbed his temples, his head hanging low. December began to make herself visible, the water bubbling as she slowly rose, releasing air from her nostrils. She reluctantly met Elsie’s eyes, looking like a dog who’d been caught doing something naughty, but received a wide smile rather than a scolding and finger wag in return.

They were never beating those sex allegations.

[suhjihanma]

☩ 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕱𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 ☩

☩Kink (3) : Omorashi ☩Word Count: 915 words ☩Pairing: Kento Nanami / Female Reader ☩Content Warning: Heavy mentions of omorashi, bedwetting, slight mentions of ab//dl, heavy dominance, humiliation, moderate use of OOC, hinting of dumbification, age play, mentions of wearing diapers as humiliation, dd//lg. ☩Author's Note: Do not read this if you are a minor or kinkshame. If you find this story to be tasteful, then by all means ignore this writing piece. It's day three now, so why write up something that's more on the borderlines of taboo? I might had a little bit too fun playing with this prompt, but to hell with it, we ball.

Appreciating dawn was always the best moment.

Granted, it was amusing for Nanami to see you waken from a deep sleep in the soft, fitted mattress. A dragged groan was let out in the process as you stretched your sore muscles, eyes slowly opening from the disturbance of the sun's rays that crossed your face.

The gentle rays decorated your skin, back arched up as you looked at Nanami, stretching the sore muscles under developed kinks. 

Nanami gulped quietly to himself as he looked at your body, most notably vulnerable in the position that you were in. He pondered about the numerous times you were held in that position underneath his power. The bedroom was a challenge of the dynamics, yet he overruled everything inside its four walls. From overwriting the weakened nerves that sung out in ecstasy, Nanami appreciated how submissive you get under his strong hands. Inappropriate thoughts were clouding his mind of judgment as he chaste a kiss on your forehead. Besides acting upon prude thoughts, your mind could only wonder about him waking you this early in the morning. Yet, from shared times with Nanami, this was just another day basking in comfort.

“It is impolite to stare, daddy.” You sheepishly say, rubbing your eyes out of exhaustion. Nanami softly chortled as he placed another kiss on your forehead. The covers that were draped around your thighs were now replaced with warm, rough hands, slowly caressing the warmness that your thighs were carrying. 

“Can’t help it, baby.” He calmly said before looking at you with a gentle smile. Nanami studied you with his gaze, eyelids heavily covering themselves with sleepiness. “Do you know what you want to do today, or do I need to help my baby with her plans?” His stoic voice became filled with playfulness, his hands now reaching to your exposed hip frame as his fingers playfully guided themselves along the small love handles. Redden cheeks formed across your face as embarrassment presented itself. Nanami was right‌. Difficult as it may seem, you always found him to help you with dubious errands, especially for errands that ‘big girls’ like yourself find difficulty in completing. 

Still, you always complained that you could get them done with your poor time management. 

Pouting, you looked at Nanami with a tongue poking out, afterwards blowing out a raspberry. “I can do it, daddy! I can do things myself.” Nanami chuckled as he looked down at your legs, not knowing the small puddle that sat underneath you. A questionable expression formed across his face. 

“And not going to the bathroom is one of them.” Sighing, he throws the covers that were still on the bed before his palms felt the wet stain underneath you. Thankfully, it wasn’t a hassle to clean up yet, the continuous lectures of bedwetting grew to be tiring. You knew Nanami grew to have short patience when it comes to misbehaving yet, the patience that this man had with you was mainly forgiving, in a sense. He could be cruel as the next man by spanking in retaliation. He overweighted the power dynamic, yet when it comes to occasional accidents, you thanked your submissive self that he was more than less lenient. 

“I’m sorry, daddy. I couldn’t make it in time.” You cried out as you held your head down in shame. Tears were slightly forming in the corners of your eyes as you sniffled quietly. Embarrassing that Nanami could see you in your crying state, the smallness within you wanted to grab your nearest plush animal and hold on to it with dear life. A special coping mechanic, you wanted to ease your crippling embarrassment. Humiliation was getting the best of you until Nanami’s voice broke your sulking moment, your attention was now focused towards the man with a concerned face. 

“I’m not having that.” He continues to look at your sadden face, still expression present. “I wonder what your punishment will be, baby, hm?” Your eyes watered, Nanami now looking over at you with a smirk. “I tried making you write several sentences on not wetting the bed again. I might need to up my ante.” Looking at the puddle again underneath, Nanami sighed in disbelief.

 “Then again, wearing a diaper would be more fitting for girls like you who love to make messes.” Your eyes widened as you were about to protest his suggestion. Not only could he choose something so embarrassing yet shameful, but something that teases your bodily functions. Wearing a diaper was a bit too much, but with Nanami’s suggestion, this was all for your own humiliation. How adorable would it be for you waddling about in your daddy’s home? You actually get to be embarrassed like a little girl. Little girls like yourself are only subjective to be pacified and babied under dominant daddies like Nanami.

Simply because you couldn’t control your bladder. 

“No daddy, that’s for babies.” Your endless pitiful whines reached Nanami’s deafen ears as you squirmed, acknowledging the feeling of cooled wetness now seeping in your soiled panties. Nanami’s smirk never left his face as he looked over you, tutting his teeth as he looked over at you with a mischievous smile. You questioned yourself as you didn’t know what’s going to happen next, yet the dominance that leaked around Nanami grew to be enticing as the words spilled from his mouth grew nothing but alluring to your ears.

“Remind yourself that you are daddy’s baby, baby.”

[deadheaddaisy]

For the fic author ask game—1, 6, 12, and 17? :D

1 - What is your favorite trope to write?

Canon divergence, often - not always - in the form of secret agents/BAMF OTP/pretend relationship. I like to try and stay within the bounds of canon, but I've realised that much of what I write either pulls events/people out of the canon timeline. Oh, and also, crack. Give me all the crack, thanks.

6 - The fic you’re least proud of writing?

I don't really have one I'm least proud of writing because even the crackiest of my fics makes me snort and chortle to myself.

Okay, I tried to look at my fics objectively and choose one but no luck, I'm afraid. I love 'em all.

12 - First ever fic written?

Like, ever? It was almost 40 years ago and was a Robotech self-insert Mary Sue (I was 12 and it was written by hand, okay?).

First ever written and published would be On The Edge Of Dreaming.

17 - Favorite AU to write?

Spy/Secret Agent/Assassin, for sure. Lends itself to BAMF moments, the adrenaline rush of action, fake relationship shenanigans, accidental marriage, meet cutes/awkwards, angst, hurt/comfort, and possible crossovers, to name but a few.

Considering that I have 3 WIPs based on this premise, I'd say I have a bit of a problem...

Thanks for the ask!

[carlos-in-glasses]

🥤🪲🦷 please <3

Michelle!! Hey!!!

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Oh there are so many. But I'm going to have to say.... Michelle I'd like you to check out the remarkable First Aid by @heartstringsduet Look at what this author is capable of. Look at all this beauty and the palpable love between TK and Carlos. Look at the metaphors, the similies, the dialogue. Look at it and feel pride to your core.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

Haha I just did this for this ask but ok.... gahhhh let's try again:

“You came up from St. Joseph’s, right, that Catholic place?”

“Uh huh.”

Scott pointed at himself proudly, said, “Murchison,” like a middle-aged guy at a party chortling about Ivy League nostalgia and Hamptons summers. Then he slapped Carlos on the shoulder and instantly became fourteen again. “See you around, dude.”

This is EXACTLY 50!! Woo!!

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

Wisdom isn't my strong point lol. But I once saw a text post on tumblr that said "I hold myself to a standard of grace, not perfection" and that has stayed with me. Being gracious is something I aspire to and would encourage others to. It's not always easy by any means, but I think it makes everyone feel good to be on the receiving end of grace and to give it out.

[spiritus-malum]

Grachiel

Thus follows a dream, on Grachiel, Archdemon of the Dying Times.

I opened my eyes to a darkened alleyway. The night had fallen hard and fast as my bleary tear-filled eyes adjusted to the light, or rather lack thereof. I saw along the walls of the alley a million scrawlings of the mad; "The end is nigh." "All is lost." "Mankind is a plague." "Rot of creation grows and lingers." "You have failed, as have I." "Jesus cannot save us now." And at the end of the alley, backlit by the glow of the streetlamp, I saw him.

Tall and fair, with long hair and a rippling body of perfect physique, the Angel stood against the dark. As he turned to face me it held aloft a banner of tattered and tarnished white cloth. It was dripping from one end with blood, and it read in ghastly ink of the same make, "Tempus Mutat Omnia."

He approached me and held out his free hand for a shake, "A pleasure, Maarika. Earthly devil, creature of chaos and disordered logic. A grand pleasure to make the acquaintance of someone so lacking in remorse and inhibition towards evil."

I coughed out a reply, barely, "Grachiel."

He threw his head backwards in laughter, the sound was as the cawing of a murder of every corvid all at once, a theatre of madness stretched out before me, "Right you are! Are you oft beset by demons in your sleep, little one?"

"You are an Angel." I rebutted.

He looked me up and down, searching for some frailty of the mind to pounce upon and manipulate. He was seeing my every decision, judging my worth as a tool.

"I'm amused, it has been long since I've been called an Angel by any." His golden eyes pierced the core of my being, even in the safety of my own personal oneiros, "You seem to be fond of my presence here, does it bode well for you?"

I swallowed hard, the statement was frightening to consider, why did he come here?

"I believe it does, one of the tides of change. You bring positive change as well you do negative, do you not?"

The look of relief on his face was palpable, powerful, potent, "You say true I say thank ya!" He said in a mock New Yawk accent, "And what a lovely thanks it is, lil lady~" He said in a Clint Eastwood impression.

I laughed nervously, and suddenly thought to look down at myself. I saw a fully feminine form, not the awkward in-between I see in the mirror now, something I would consider goals in my transition.

"Ahhh, there you go, silly young thing." Grachiel chortled as he said, "You liven up the experience by being so enrapted in the presence of an Angel. That's not why I'm here though." He said more seriously.

"So, it's bad, huh?" I asked, less nervous now, more willing to hear what he had to tell me.

"Hardly, for you. For plenty of folks? Yes, awful, terrible, death, destruction, plague, suffering, woe be unto the world that wakes upon that fateful morning.... but...." He trailed slightly, turning around and seeing another figure at the end of the alley where he formerly stood.

She was radiant and pure, the glow of her clothes shined against the stark contrast of the night with perfect clarity and brightness. It was as if she were her own lightsource.

I saw Grachiel straighten his back a bit, and stand with more command and authority, "You bring your comfort here to guard yourself from my truth, but it is by the hand of this comfort you will be spared from death." He spoke the words towards her, but directed to me.

She held out her hands to me, the light of her halo burned against the darkness of night, a perfect circle of infinite brightness that shone out of the dark like the sun. Save that this light did not burn my eyes to behold directly.

She opened her wings and they fluttered out in a storm of white feathers. She flapped them twice, filling the air with a gust of sweet smells. As she did, they lifted her off the ground just enough to let her feet hang down in a gently repose above the concrete.

She opened her eyes to me as she smiled, the light of her halo was dwarfed by the brilliance of her soul shining behind those eyes. She beckoned me with her hands, not making a huge show of it, just calling out to me.

"My love, come to me, all is calm, all is well. You will make it through the fire, you will make it through the night. We will part this world together, but not for many, many years." She spoke in a sweet voice my heart new perfectly.

I turned to Grachiel and said, "Explain to me what we will miss together, please."

He shook his head, solemnly, and said, "No can do, I can't tell you anything about your own future and you know it."

I nodded in understanding, but then puzzled aloud, "Then why bother coming at all?" I asked.

"You have free will, if you make the choices that will lead to her not being salvation for you, I want you with me." He said, matter-of-factly, and with authority unmatched by any mortal ruler, "If she is out of your life, I will keep you, and you will live throu-" A shattering silence fell out of his mouth.

"She will be with me," My love spoke in her own voice, not authoritative, not insistent, not demanding of me. But understanding, loving, caring, wishing only the best for us both, "of that you can be assured Grachiel." She finished.

Grachiel looked perturbed that interruption was even within consideration by her. But when he looked down at me as saw my eyes shining with the same golden halo that filled hers, he understood.

"I am impressed with her, do not fail her, earthly devil." He said, with a final word, departed.

I ran to her, and embraced her. When I did, she sank to the ground again, wrapping her arms around me, her wings vanished. I ran my fingers through her soft curly hair, and she embraced my face with her hands and kissed me deeply as I did.

We stood enraptured by eachother for centuries, as the world around us was warped and destroyed. The buildings that made up the alleyway crumbled to dust. The concrete below out feet joining it, nearly instantly.

The air grew heavy, hot, painful to breath, but we kissed on. The world filled with black smog that choked us and brought us no end of pain, but we kissed on. The dark of night extended into day, and the burning heat of day extended into the night, but we kissed on.

We heard the cry of people in the distance, first raiders, survivors, the pained and starving. But then, the sounds of order, law, systems of government being ratified by the fools who set themselves only to repeat what had occurred already, but we kissed on.

Finally the stillness of a long night, longer than the nights previous, and a few words spoken by close friends from just the other end of the alleyway, "Look I found them! Yeah, they're making out again! Come the fuck on you two, we're looking for medicine and canned goods for winter, not eachothers fucking tongues." The voice teased.

I looked into her eyes, lovingly as I had what felt like a million times before, I took her hand and started towards our friends.

"Come now, my princess. We have a world to keep." I finished.

The return from sleep to waking was painful, I felt as though every muscle in my body had been stiffened. I lept up and looked at myself in the mirror, and there I swear I saw the seal of Grachiel fading from my skin.

Where a knife had whitened the flesh, but not broken any. Where offers had been made, but not struck. Where fate was decided, but not by myself alone.

Fata volente, Tempus Mutat Omnia.

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Picky Eater

Book: Mother Of The Year Pairing: Thomas Mendez x MC (Ayla) Rating: T Word count: 1197 Reading time: 5 min Summary: Ayla will have to face her own limitations as she tries to teach her daughter how to be an open-minded eater.

Author's note:

I got an ask from @peonierose with some lovely pictures a while ago and decided to write this story.

Why Thomas x Ayla of all my OTPs? I don't know. Only heaven knows lol

Ayla Day is a creation of this author. The others characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios.

Stephanie and Luz run across the park, crunching dry leaves and stems with their boots as Ayla watches them from a bench nearby. She then glances at Thomas in the street market, chatting with a pumpkin vendor, probably sharing tips and recipes for Thanksgiving dishes.

Being raised most of her life in Brazil, she is a bit indifferent to most American traditions and never saw any reason to look forward to the holiday during her relationship with Guy. But since Thomas and Luz are so excited to celebrate Thanksgiving, she didn't feel like saying no to joining them for the festivities. Stephanie is half American too. It's only fair that she partakes in Thanksgiving dinners once in a while.

"Found it!" Thomas beams as he saunters over carrying a large pumpkin in one hand.

"I can see that..." Her brows shoot in response, but she tries her best not to undermine his excitement. "But don't you think that one is too big for us?"

"Not at all! Levi, Eiko and Alma are coming over. We can do so many dishes with this baby right here. Plus, it's like your mother always says..."

"It’s better to err on the side of generosity than to appear too stingy?"

"Exactly."

"If you say so..." Ayla gives her shoulders.

Thomas then places the pumpkin down and sits next to her. "Everything okay, darling?"

"Yeah... It's just a dumb thought that crossed my mind..."

"About what?"

"Pumpkins... I'm not exactly a fan..."

"Really? Why not?"

"I don't know... The taste and the texture after it's cooked aren't appealing to me."

"Pumpkins aren't appealing to you in every single dish you've tried?"

She wrinkles her nose.

Thomas chortles.

"I know it's childish of me to be picky. I'm trying to teach my own kid not to be picky about food so she can adapt easily to any situation."

"I understand..."

"Do you?"

He nods. "Your secret is safe with me, darling."

"Thank you."

"However..." He grins.

She purses her lips and stares at him deadpan.

"Hear me out first. You can complain all about it later."

"Okay, what is it?"

"If you really want to set a good example for Stephanie, you'll have to show her you're an open-minded eater."

Ayla makes a face. "Yeah... But how do I do that without twisting my nose at a pumpkin pie?"

He grins. "I'm so glad you asked."

One hour later

The scent of coffee roast, nuts and milk spread in the air as Ayla adds the cheesecake filling to the pre-baked crust to place it back in the oven. To her, the idea of adding pumpkin puree to the cheesecake is outrageous. But it's okay. She'll have it with wine anyway. Plus, everything will be fine as soon as she gets a large mug of that fancy and delicious strong coffee Thomas buys especially for her.

"Alright, cheesecake is in the oven, potatoes are ready, turkey is almost done. Did you check on the girls?”

“They’re watching NFL game.”

“Really? I thought Luz preferred soccer.”

“And hopefully she’ll stick to it. She’s intense enough even when she’s watching the game from the living room.”

“Okay…” Ayla giggles. “What’s next?”

"How about we take a break for coffee?"

"Now we're talking! It'll definitely help me with my article later."

"Will I have to sleep by myself all night again while you finish work again? Man..." He nags.

"Not all night." She steps closer to kiss his cheek and gives him her best smile. "Just some of it..."

Thomas fakes pouting.

"Don't give me those puppy eyes. You leave alone in bed almost every night." She folds her arms, feigning annoyance.

"I know and I'm grateful you understand, darling." He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek. "Just don't tire yourself too much."

"Yeah, yeah... This is all cute and very lovey-dovey of you, but where's my coffee?"

"How about a latte instead?"

A smile forms on her lips again. "I'm listening."

"Sit tight. I'll take care of everything, darling."

"Mmm..." She then sits on a stool by the kitchen island, resting her chin on one elbow. "I love when you talk dirty to me..."

Chuckling, he turns off the coffee machine, pours the coffee into a mug, adds a spoon of pumpkin puree and whisks them together with a mixer.

"Hey! What was that orange goo in my rich people coffee?"

"Didn't we talk about you setting up a good example for Stephanie by being an open-minded eater?"

"Yes! But coffee isn't a dish! Coffee is coffee and it’s perfect the way it is!" She scowls.

"It's easier to enjoy something you don't like when you include other things you like with it."

Ayla folds her arms.

"I know you're still skeptical, but I'm going to prove you wrong," he says, slowly adding hot milk to the mug.

"You'd better. Because right now you're only showing me the atrocities American people do by adding pumpkin to latte and cheesecake."

Thomas shakes his head and grins. Once the coffee is ready, he covers the mug with whipped cream then adds cinnamon powder and a glass straw with a flourish.

"Here you go."

Ayla inspects the mug for a moment then takes a sip of coffee.

"So?"

"It's better than I expected it to be..." She replies, toying with the straw before drinking it again.

"Wait until you take a bite of the cheesecake."

She instinctively wrinkles her nose.

"I don't think that's the best attitude if you really want Stephanie to be open-minded about food," he points out.

"What? I didn't say anything!"

"Ayla, it's all over your face. And for the record, that's the same face you made when Luz and I had pumpkin ice cream."

Her shoulders slump as she places down the mug. "I'm ruining this, aren't I?"

"No, you're not." He moves closer to kiss her forehead. "And it's okay if Stephanie doesn't like pumpkin after all. Many people don't. Besides, you managed to make her eat most vegetables kids hate."

She gives her shoulders slightly.

"She's a smart and healthy kid who is incredibly lucky to be your daughter, darling. Whether she becomes a picky eater or not."

"Plus, I didn't lie about Thanksgiving, Santa Claus, tooth fairy..."

"You did better in that department than I ever did, by the way."

"I still do."

“Are you still going to call me out about not mentioning the real story of Thanksgiving until she was nine?”

“Yes! Steph knows it since she was six! And may I add, Luz was tough enough to not only hear the full story but also gather money from all white students in the school and donate to indigenous communities because — to quote her…”

“The natives Americans deserve historical reparation.”

They chuckle.

"You're a wonderful mother, Ayla. I'm glad Luz and I have someone like you in our lives."

"Thank you… You're a great parent too, darling," she says resting her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

"Hey, maybe you can be the good influence on Steph about food."

"Why? You're almost halfway through the pumpkin-spiced latte."

"Yeah, but there's the cheesecake."

"Darling, just face it. You're going to love it.”

“You’re so wrong about that…” She scoffs.

“You will eat a big fat slice of pumpkin cheesecake and have seconds. You just don't know it yet,” he jokes.

"If I dump enough whipped cream to disguise the pumpkin in it, sure!"

Between laughter and a few sips of latte, the couple begins to set up the table for dinner.

[coffee-at-annies]

Enemies to lovers, amnesia, oops you fell into an alternate dimension!, there’s a cat!, one bed

Enemies to lovers: C+/B- it really depends on canon, the author, and the pairing. Sometimes it works (grilled cheesby), sometimes I have a new notp (drarry). Sometimes they’re enemies in the fic but not canon (flyers!geno) and that can be more palatable. Idk this one is a weird one where it’s incredibly subjective.

Amnesia: Solid B right there. This is another one that depends on what I’m in the mood for and how much miscommunication I want but amnesia+assumed we were together is just some *chef’s kiss* of shenanigans

Oops you fell into an alternate dimension: ??? I’m genuinely trying to remember if I’ve read this in fic. I don’t read a lot of isekai mangas (western portal fantasy is similar but different) I’ve seen accidentally trading places with yourself from another dimension. And now that I think about it the standard dimension hopping trope in dc comics fanfic is maybe this? C or B depending on the fandom

There’s a cat!: ??? Is this just inclusion of a cat in fics? Cause if so A+ no notes. Otherwise idk.

One bed: B+. Am I going to comb ao3 for fics where there’s only one bed? No. However if I am reading a fic and the characters have to share a room I will be on the edge of my seat wondering if there’s only one bed and chortling to myself and munching on popcorn when they reluctantly agree to share and start off all stiff and on opposite sides of the bed only for character A to wake up with no feeling in their arm because both of them migrated to the center of the bed in the middle of the night and the weight of character B is currently cutting off their circulation but they wouldn’t dare think of moving and waking them.

Also surprise! There’s a cat! Lark says hello!

[fragmcntedsouls]

Others didn’t usually step closer as Klaus’ tone became harsher; not when they valued their lives. But if anybody was going to challenge authority, he knew it to be her. Gianna's well rehearsed response sounded confidently as if the words were Klaus' own, but he had to admit there was a sentiment behind them that he could relate to. “Hm. Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned in that.” It wasn’t clear which one of them he was reminding. His lips twitched as she enclosed their distance further, but his eyes remained stern, almost if warning her; a warning that he was the one to tell the lies, not be fed them. 

“Then perhaps I haven’t made myself clear” he countered, “whilst those benefits are indeed mutual, an invitation into my home provokes honesty where my family and your intentions with such are concerned.” Klaus didn’t trust Gianna, nor would he. He’d said it himself that politics was a dirty game and he’d been burned one too many times in the past to ever trust her. In his eyes, her intentions had been false and he had fallen for it.

A smirk formed against his lips, their frames inches from each other as both stood their ground within this battle for dominance. She was good, arguably too good. “Rather a hypocrite than a fool, love – which you would be to underestimate the lengths that I would go to protect all that is mine. Our arrangement is strictly for business purposes, but alas you have gone and turned it into something personal" and had from the moment that she had given into curiosity and asked about Briggs. "Which, makes for quite the mistake on your part.” His index finger tapped against his glass after having taken a sip, stifling a chortle of laughter in response to her comment, as she walked away from him, clearly satisfied with her efforts. Her parting words however, did appear to be genuine as was Klaus' answer. “Then you are certainly playing the wrong game if you believe for a second, that there is room for being tired of it. Reveal weakness and they will devour you -- and not in the way that you so indiscreetly desire.”

"I have no friends. And I don't keep my enemies as close as I should" Gianna had allies. She had enemies. And the only person outside either of those bounds was Billie. -- She steps closer to him now, as his tone gets sharper with her. Not something she was particularly used to. Although it did cause a chill to go down her spine. She felt confused, by the sheer audacity of the other, to hold it against her that she'd not been entirely forthcoming.

"Forgive me, Klaus. I was under the impression our partnership was based on something else entirely. Like, the benefits we could extract from one another, as opposed to...honesty." she was a politician after all, she was...herself. And she'd always thought Klaus was smart enough, having lived a thousand lives, to know not to trust anyone. Least of all someone like her. And for the most part, she had never lied to him. Not really. She just chose to reveal information at its appropriate times.

"You keep no secrets from me? None? Because if you don't you're a fool, and if you do, well then, you're a hypocrite. -- So? Which is it?" she places the cup of warm liquor atop her lips and pulls in a sip, and she tries not to roll her eyes at the threat. "I'm kind of into choking, ya know, since we're being honest." there's a smile, a wink, and she'll walk away from him at last. If it was honesty he wanted, it was a small price to pay for keeping Billie safe. "I'm tired Klaus. I'm tired of this. All of it..."

[pastafossa]

Okay wait

We discussed Jane being able to see threads through the fourth wall so would that mean she’d be able to see the love we hold for her too

Please say yes, she deserves to know how adored she is, even by those she’s never met

OF COURSE SHE CAN!

-x-

"You've learned of the multiverse before. It is an endless array of dimension, some in which we exist, some in which we do not." Wong reached down and tugged up the glittering, rippling mass of threads at his own chest, the colors made from shades that didn't even exist in your reality. The shape of those threads were so thick you could almost see the shape of grins, hear the bark of laughter and eager gasps, letters in a multitude of languages flowing past. "And some... in which we are story."

You rubbed your fingers against your eye, still not quite getting it. "A... a story."

"Yes."

"So these are... what? Threads to... to storytellers?" "Sometimes. But they also connect us to those who hear our stories in other dimensions. Those who enjoy our tales." There was the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. "The story of Jane Hind, in your case. It seems the tale of the Devil and the Hound has been told somewhere beyond our realm."

You blinked in disbelief at the flowing threads at your chest. Not as many, as thick as Wong's, perhaps, but still... bigger than you expected, burning bright and joyful beneath your fingers. "So it's true. I'm..." "You are a character, yes. And you are not." He shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the revelation that you were, in fact, both real and not.

"So someone's... writing me. What I'm doing right now."

"Potentially. Or you are having a background moment. A moment off camera, perhaps."

"But like... if they get really horny, they could make me-"

"We do our best not to think of that."

"I've fucked Matt a lot." You squinted up at the ceiling, as if you could see the invisible eye watching. "Either this is fanfic, or you, author, are filthy. Then again, maybe you do a fade to black."

"If it helps, think of it less that they are controlling your actions. They are instead a chronicler of your history, creating a documentary. A biography." Wong waved a hand. "Someone in a dimension, somewhere, has managed to tell exactly your story, with a few artistic adjustments here and there. I tell myself this when I am on yet another rewatch of Breaking Bad. Naturally they would show me watching something new."

"But..." You lifted up the threads and shook them. "But these, Wong. What do I-"

"They clearly care about you, and what happens to you. Is that so hard to believe?"

"I am a formerly-murderous, dumpster-diving possum, Wong. I'm still surprised my husband doesn't use a catchpole on me when he finds me feral and scarfing marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms box at two in the morning."

"And if my etsy feed is to be believed, there are plenty of people who adore possums, murderous or not. Possum mugs, possum shirts, pictures of little possums in flower crowns. So be a happy one. Maybe they will put you on a mug, too."

"Ha," you said sarcastically, as he chortled to himself and turned to walk away. "You're hilarious."

"Accept it, Ms. Hind. We're all stories in the end." "You got that from Doctor Who, asshole."

He waved you off, an orange portal appearing for him to step through.

And as he left, you stared down at the threads... and then up.

Over.

Down.

Are they watching right now?

"So... hi." You reached up and scratched your chin thoughtfully. "So, if you're listening and this isn't a fever dream... In truth, I have no idea why you care. I'm a mess, or I feel like one nine times out of ten, which you... likely already know depending on what point of view my story's in and whether my internal monologues are included. But I'm pretty sure Foggy would advocate self-love, so even though I'm still confused... thank you. I'm..." You stared down at the threads. "Thank you. For caring about me and... and Matt, because if you're still here, then I have a feeling you care about him, too. I hope I don't give you too much grief. I hope you know it ends well. We're happy, even if we had to go through a lot of shit to get there."

A realization hit you and you scowled up at the ceiling. "Wait, was that you?"

Silence.

"I know you're up there behind that fourth wall."

A slightly more guilty silence.

"If you're writing this, you could at least give me an apology. One for me and all the people who care. You put them through hell too, making them read all that angst after the building collapse. What the fuck is wrong with you? I deserve compensation for my-"

You suddenly noticed a box of chocolates on the nearby dresser, a box of chocolates that very much hadn't been there before.

"Chocolate? Really?" You crossed your arms. "After what Matt and me went through, we deserve better. Something fun."

A long, thin piece of plastic connected to a series of leather straps suddenly fell from the ceiling.

"Very funny."

Your phone rang, tinkling notes chosen for the Devil.

"Seriously?"

Amused silence.

"Fine. Be that way. But you better show them happy shit after this. They deserve it, and so do me and Matt."

And somehow, the silence felt... agreeable and fond after that, and you reached down one last time to brush against the little bundle of strange new threads at your chest, a strange warmth filling you that almost made your chest hitch a little. There was... almost something a little reassuring about knowing you had people rooting for you and Matt, and hopefully for all your other friends, too.

"Me and all of you, ride or die," you whispered. "Let's do this."

[koutaroulogy]

DRABBLE TWO ♡ COURTSHIP (DILUC R.)

details : he envies kaeya's ability to be as smooth as ice.

contains : sfw! fluff, fluff! lol he jealous but dw he still cute.

more : never expected it to blow up like holee shit?? but thank you so much loves ♡ especially to the people who fuelled this author's diluc obsession movement.

taglist: @melkxsh @celestair @mochiimilq @catinneedofcaffeine @glowmiko @childe-support + join the taglist here!

you were now a couple.

he won you over by talking with you until you were close enough, and confession from him involving venti, kaeya, a bottle of wine and a box of jueyun chilis that somehow worked when you said yes to dating him.

so you were now a couple, but the both of you were more like friends than lovers. at least that seemed to be for him, who agonized at the thought of not kissing you or hugging you but had to because he wanted to give you time to try and initiate some form of affection (he's too shy to initiate it first).

however,

if there was one person diluc would be jealous of, it would be nobody. nobody at all.

scratch that. he wants to pummel his half-brother into next week when he found the both of you close to each other while laughing and talking.

kaeya was so charismatic. so smooth with both men and women. it's what he envies about him sometimes.

(diluc cares about him more than you think he does but you don't have to know that fact.)

diluc glowered and almost lost it when he kissed the back of your hand in farewell.

once you left angel's share, the redhaired ragnvindr moved in for the kill.

"kaeya..." his voice lowed with a warning growl while the blue haired man held his hands up in mock surrender.

"i was just being friendly. calm down, dear brother," he grinned. diluc did not like that grin at all.

"that was anything but friendly."

the pair sat at the counter, diluc burning a hole through the blue haired captain's head. after downing a swig of dandelion wine, kaeya licked his lips and spoke,

"you are thinking about y/n, aren't you?"

"what about them?"

"you're holding back. just kiss them already."

"as to whether i will kiss y/n or not is none of your business," diluc's throat gave a rumble. kaeya shrugged and went back to finishing his dandelion wine.

okay, so what if diluc was holding back?

cherishing you meant he had to keep his distance. and he can hold back just fine.

lies, the voice in his mind hissed.

he wants to hug you in public, spoonfeed you and treat you like royalty everyday even when other people were watching you. he wants to be called yours and he wants to call you his. he wants to kiss you and be kissed and do the things that were sappily and ever so disgustingly romantic.

when he sees you smiling and laughing again beside kaeya the next night at the tavern, his self control waned almost instantly.

fuck holding back. fuck distance. i want you all to myself.

he strode over, dragged you over to one of the empty tables and sat you down roughly while you protested.

"what is with you?!"

"you mean what was up with that!" diluc shouted back. he didn't even register that everyone in the bar had gone quiet. you were both too cooped up in an argument to notice anything else.

"i was just messing around with kaeya!"

"don't try and mess around! especially with him!"

"what? you jealous of him or something?"

when he did not reply, you looked at him in disbelief, "you ... you're actually jealous?"

"yes! i was jealous, damn it!"

"pfft!"

he looked down, flushed while you burst into laughter.

"stop laughing!" he growled and your laughter grew louder.

he's so cute. oh my fucking god.

"i was just talking to him about you." (more like you were asking him for his baby pictures. he doesn't have to know either)

"that's what you were doing with him the past days?"

"yeah, and for you to take it in wrongly is just-" you started giggling again. diluc's ears reddened and waited until your chortles subsided.

"i'm saying that you shouldn't hold yourself back," you stated, wiping the tears that puddled in your eyelids from all the laughing, "we're in a relationship aren't we?"

simple as that.

"there's nothing to worry about as long as we trust each other, 'luc."

he sighs.

fine, let's be greedy. fuck it all. i really want you all to myself.

he kissed you in front of the people of angel's share. your eyelids fluttered and your lips melted into each other like wax.

you were sweeter than anything he's ever tasted.

i want to taste you again.

you let go, and diluc licks his lips in satisfaction. forehead leaned against forehead, and the both of you looked at each other with matching smiles on your lips and eyes- ignoring the throng of people cheering you on.

"despite their opposite personalities, they really do suit each other," lisa smiled.

sitting beside her, the cavalier captain sighed.

"i could have a matchmaking job now, could i?"

"you'd be out of it for seducing the women out of their infatuation for their significant others almost instantly," rosaria butted in from the other table and the customers nearby roared with laughter. even diluc had to smile as he lead you through the throng of people and towards the broom closet.

no matter, he'll forgive kaeya just this once, diluc thought as he held your hand in his wrist, pinning you against the wall of the broom closet for a prompt makeout session.

just this once.

[justices-blade]

Edward doesn't quite startle, but his steps do slow to a halt, hand dropping out of his field of vision, gold affixing wide steel. The grin's replaced with a furrowed brow, realising he's stepped on a line, if not crossed it — Right, he's all tall and imposing right now, probably. Not coming across like usual.

How not-usual, though? Right thumbnail begins to idly scratch at the callous at the crook of the index finger on the same finger, a slower motion than his usual fidgeting. Come to think of it, he generally feels less wound, taut rather than wired, quieter and colder, not just in temperature but in disposition. In that pause, he watches himself, Lloyd-in-his-body, freak it.

It's funny; He's never had to swing around any authority, never really wanted to hold and use it. Didn't realise his voice lacked the steel someone like Micaiah, Nolan or Leonardo could have, maybe from lack of that experience. Hadn't realised his eyes were so big and expressive, either, clear alarm ringing like thunder through the grey. Looking at himself like this, he expects being called a child to make him snap back, maybe sound petulant to boot.

"I'm no child." Is what he says, but it's entirely even. There's a shake of the head; His other hand waves dismissively.

"Look, sorry, I didn't mean it like that. If it did mean anything, I'm serious about it." He sighs where there would ordinarily be a huff, stepping once-twice-thrice past Lloyd-in-his-body towards the infirmary before stopping, turning on his heel, swaying lightly like a willow in the wind. "You've obviously gone through some stuff in however-older-you-are-than me, but I'm stronger and drier behind the ears than I look."

Yeah — The fact he can look at someone else in his body, all its youth and energy, and still say that with all seriousness — That should prove it more than enough.

"Either way, I promise I'm seriously not interested in digging around, much less telling anyone." As often as he lets things slide from his apparent notice, he's not blind, he can tell Lloyd doesn't want him to. "Even if anything happens, I can fend for myself — us — no problem."

A pause. He leans down, just a fraction, levity returning to his tone with a chortle. "Actually, I'd be more worried about you keeping me safe!"

So, You Wanna Explain That Skillset?

One day, you find yourself waking up thoroughly sore, scraping yourself off the floor of a Monastery classroom. As you strain to remember how you wound up there, you catch sight of your hand – except it’s not yours. Nor are the clothes you now wear, or the body beneath them. Your actual self is standing opposite you, staring back in shock and… covered in dust? Before things spiral further, the professor attempts to quell the growing chorus of unrest with an explanation, which also serves to jog your memory. This was supposed to be a seminar showcasing the magical properties of a magic tool from Tellius known as Warp Powder. Unfortunately, its volatile nature lends itself to many potential side-effects if mishandled… one of which is ripping people’s souls out and depositing them into the nearest acceptable vessel. The unbothered professor assures everyone that this “minor inconvenience” will wear off on its own eventually, and that the Monastery will still be expecting the completion of your usual assignments and duties in the meantime. [Grants Any Weapon +1]